Silhouette Romance Novels & Stories

Her tears fell freely now, rolling down her cheeks, dripping onto the marble. Damon didn’t deny it. He didn’t correct her. That silence spoke louder than any word. To Rhian, that silence meant everything. It meant betrayal. It meant her marriage had been nothing but a cruel illusion. It meant her love was nothing compared to Cynthia’s presence in his life. Cynthia continued, her tone playful but edged with possession. “Stay with me tonight, Damon. Just like before.” Rhian’s entire body froze. Her world spun. “Cynthia—” Damon began, his tone unreadable.

A place built from silence and persistence and hope and love that refused to disappear even when circumstances suggested it should. Perhaps that was why the title had always fit. The silenced bride. The relentless love. Not opposites. Not separate stories. The silence had taught them how to listen. The love had taught them how to stay. And somewhere between those two lessons they had built a life larger than either of them had ever imagined possible.

it felt so new to you since it's Genesis the man I love and I never had sex with him. you looked into his eyes. you were turned on by his face; the raised eyebrow, the seductive eyes, the little smirk plastered on his face. oh goodness. I thought that I already moved on but I was wrong. All this time I'm still in love with him. you didn't realize that he loosened your red lace brassiere. your breath hitched, he was that damn fast. you let your straps fall to your shoulder as he slowly removes the cloth from your chest.

A worthless, low-tier shadow? The Disguise of Romance "What's the matter? Are you angry?" Silas watched the color drain from Lulu’s face piece by piece until her skin was a deathly, pale mask. The faint, mocking smirk playing at the corners of his lips never wavered. He reached into the bouquet once more, carelessly snapped two additional stems from the bunch, and thrust all three roses directly toward her face. "Take them. Aren't they beautiful?" Sitting right beside her, Chloe Bishop’s expression darkened into a fierce, dangerous scowl. What did Silas think he was doing? Was he systematically torturing a person for his own amusement?

It was a tradition of the High North, a dance that required absolute trust and physical proximity. Julian stepped toward her, his hand extended once again. "May I, Lyra? One last dance before the moon reaches its zenith?" Before Lyra could answer, a hand caught Julian’s wrist. Silas had moved from the shadows. He didn't look like a laborer now. He looked like a predator. His gold-and-sapphire scars were glowing with a violent intensity, and his aura was a suffocating wall of shadow that pushed Julian back. "She’s had enough of your 'Arctic Charm' for one night, Julian," Silas said, his voice a low, lethal vibration that silenced the room.

Worse, she might become greedy enough to want his heart as well. He was too gentle. Too different from the men she had been with before. There was something undeniably special about him. The irony was that she had only wanted his body. Silvana had never gone after men for love. She enjoyed excitement, enjoyed freedom, enjoyed fleeting moments of pleasure. As for romance, she had always believed she could live perfectly well without it. Yet now, she was no longer so certain.

Will she be the same? The memory wraps itself around me and suddenly I am standing in a clearing within the pine forest. A night when the moon is waxing but not full and a breeze shimmers a tender shushing through the trees around us. Somewhere in the branches, an owl hoots softly to her mate. It is the perfect night. The sort that feels more like a dream, set apart from the world. Silvia is in my arms looking up at me, her damp skin pressed to mine. She shivers and I feel the gooseflesh on her naked body. There are still drops of water on her eyelashes from our night swim and I lean down to kiss them away. 'Silvia Ironwolf,' I say after each kiss, 'Do you solemnly swear to be my mate forev

Book 3: Silken Whispers Riley Pov The soft lighting in the private suite felt different tonight — warmer, more intimate, with silk scarves draped over the furniture and the faint scent of jasmine in the air. I stood in the center of the room, heart racing, wearing nothing but a short silk robe that barely covered my ass. My nipples were already hard against the fabric.

she whispered, her voice thick with a need that went far beyond the kitchen, "I need inspiration for the amuse-bouche." A slow, genuine smile, devoid of its former predatory edge, touched Silas's lips. He leaned down, brushing his mouth against hers in a kiss that was startlingly soft, a silent renegotiation of their contract. "Consider it summoned, Chef," he breathed against her lips, before vanishing, leaving behind the scent of ozone, passion, and the lingering warmth of something that felt dangerously like the beginning. Ava leaned back against the cold steel, trembling, utterly spent, and utterly claimed by a fire far more potent than any Michelin star.

The only sound in the room their breathing. “The dream appears to be romantic but I can feel the darkness just lurking behind the wall in my mind. I want to look beyond the wall, but I am afraid.” “Leave the wall alone for now. Tell me the rest.” “He appeared to be gone.” Her body stay coiled, but her hands reached out to her lover. Her fingers closed; her arms stayed empty. Sylvia sees the twisting of her eyes. She seems troubled by what is to come next. “I start to wonder one touch…one whisper…one kiss. I am his for eternity. I know that for certain.”