Side Effects Of Reading Romance Novels Novels & Stories

The rest of the class goes by in a blur, and I do my best to focus, but I’m way off my game. My mind is teeming, my body strangely energized, and I make a vow right then and there that I need to stop reading so many damn romance novels. I read one or two a day, fully immersed in the escapism it brings me, and I think they’re getting to my fucking head. I’ve always been a hopeless romantic, but it wasn’t until I hit my senior year in high school I discovered romance. I’ve been a complete addict ever since. But this obsession has not served me well, especially since my particular tastes these days are always the kinky variety involving handcuffs and safewords and dominants.

But worst of all of that was that I had asked him for it. The morning after is always exciting in the secret erotic novels I normally read in my E-reader. The books make it sound like an instant magical transformation. They never write about the sticky heavy reality. The way your skin feels hypersensitive to rough cabin sheets. The lingering scent of sex and ocean salt coating the entire room.

I'd made love to her, I'd loved her with my body, and every single day after that, I asked myself the same question. What was wrong with me? I mean, I certainly must have had a screw loose in my brain when I called Jay Ives and bought her those novels. I literally hated romance novels. They gave women unrealistic expectations of romance and relationships that men couldn't live up to. And I didn't get the whole point of drooling over overly endowed men and detailed sex scenes.

Oh shut up brain. “I didn’t know if Rosa was home, besides…” he cages me against him by my waist. Forcing me to inhale him. His spicy and woodsy delicious scent. “Girls love those things. Don’t you read those scenes over and over in your romance novels?” I gasp. How did he…? Oh he’s been watching me. I spend nights reading romance novels and erotica from my kindle. Squirming in my bed as he watched in the theater room. Like a movie.

I felt his leg spread my legs to accommodate his size. My heart thrummed and my cheeks flushed. I could feel the heat of his body against mine and it was making me hot all the more. A sweet sensation slithered its way to my throat and for seconds I stopped breathing. His fingers were so close to my core that I felt like he was already touching me there, even though he wasn't. Yet.

I asked and she laughed. "What's wrong with you Alex, you are becoming extremely cheesy for your personality" she said. "I know right, what's wrong me." "But I kinda like this new side of you" she said and I smiled. "So, about that passionate hug in the morning..." I said but she quickly interrupted me. "I am suddenly feeling sleepy, I should probably go to sleep." She quickly said as she tried to lay down but I held her hand arm. "You don't want to talk about the lovely hug?" I asked.

Was it from a novel Paige had read before? "What? Do you also think I'm right?" Chris asked with a smile. Paige refuted, "You should read fewer messy novels." Who would have thought that someone like Chris, a CEO, actually liked reading all sorts of romance novels? Did he ever imagine himself in those novels, fantasizing about being the male lead? Chris said, "I don't read any messy novels. I read the painstaking works of the authors." Paige was at a loss for words. Did she also not read the authors' painstaking works? Such double standards.

Calvin looked at her and smiled, "I'll take a look later." "Forget it, what's there to see?" She was a little anxious. He didn't really like reading romance novels, so what was there to see? Plus, there were explicit scenes in it. What would he think of her after reading it? Would he think that she pretended to be pure and innocent but was actually thirsty?

But soon, things shifted. One night, when I caught him frowning at his book, I couldn’t help myself. “Why do you look like someone just betrayed you?” I asked. He didn’t glance up. “Because this protagonist makes poor decisions.” I blinked. “You’re reading a romance novel, Alaric. It’s about emotions, not logic.” “That’s precisely the problem,” he said flatly. “No one communicates. They assume and spiral. It’s inefficient.” I stared at him, then burst out laughing so hard my stomach hurt. “You’re unbelievable!”

Alex sat down at his desk, turned on the light, and began reading. Eight hours later, he finished the final chapter. Alex was no expert on romance novels, but Rachel’s writing could convince him to become an avid fan. She was good. Damn good, he thought, but an important element seemed to be lacking. Rachel’s descriptions and dialogue were colorful and dramatic, but, in Alex’s opinion, the leading male character was a bit bland, and he lacked any real emotional depth for a romantic hero. The main female character was a strong, independent and highly sensual woman, but there was no believable chemistry between the two of them. Alex could also tell by her description of the country setting tha