Romans & histoires Spicy Holiday Romance Books

“Even with chips! The sweetness hits first, then that little kick… it’s like my mouth is dancing!” I laughed, watching her with sparkling eyes. “I know, right?” We kept eating like that — crossing arms, feeding each other chips dipped in the hot sauce, laughing every time one of us made a funny face from the spice. It felt so silly and sweet at the same time. For a few minutes, the whole world outside my room disappeared. It was just us, the crunchy chips, the addictive sauce, and the warmth of being close to each other. We had just finished the last few chips when Nyla suddenly started fanning her mouth with her hand, tongue sticking out slightly as she tried to cool it down.

Jana's desk was across the aisle - she was responsible for tracking product shipments while Shelby coordinated accounts receivable. Shelby nodded. "None of us want to go, but Mr. Holiday, Senior, still insists we show up, tug our forelocks and get presented with a new set of livery." "That's it, I'm cutting you off from historical romance novels," Jana said with a laugh. "Although, god, that's just about what it feels like sometimes. Wouldn't it be nice if they'd just hand us the bonus check and kick us out the door early?" "Face it, girlfriend." Shelby wrinkled her nose. "We work for a greeting card manufacturer, run by a family named Holiday. We gotta make a big deal out of the Christmas p

At least it’s warm in here. Soft Christmas music plays through overhead speakers, and there aren’t many people here. I head straight for the service counter. There’s only one other person on the last stool here, but my eyes are too blurry to notice past that. “Your strongest cocktail, please,” I say, ignoring the bartender’s greetings. He does as I ask, and the second my lips connect with the salty glass, I down the entire thing in three big gulps. It burns. “Arrggghh!” I wince, squeezing my lips with how shitty it tastes, but I immediately feel warm inside.

Elena’s POV I was curled up on the comfortable outdoor sofa on the deck, completely lost in my book. The afternoon sun was warm on my skin, and a gentle breeze carried the fresh scent of the lake. This was one of my favorite spicy romance novels — the kind where the cold, powerful hero finally breaks down and confesses his undying love in the middle of a storm. I was smiling like a fool, biting my lower lip as I turned the page, my heart racing with the characters.

Olivia didn't know why she was pleased, she'd wished to avoid him entirely, hadn't she? But just because she knew he spelled trouble didn't mean that she didn't want to bask in his smiles, rare as they were. He sat down next to her without leave, scandalously close. So close that it felt like he was towering over her, so close that she felt the spicy scent of his body tickle her nose. She had to make a conscious effort to not melt into a puddle of mush. And he wasn't even touching her! He looked so at ease, his legs crossed casually while she was having trouble breathing.

I’m conjuring up thoughts on whether to shove whatever's in there inside the trash bin or just devour it. I pick it up and open the lid, a fresh aroma of chicken spaghetti and salad fills the air and I couldn't hold onto my anger anymore. I find the fork attached to the food box and start eating like a madwoman. I can't believe what a wild mess my life has turned into, or worse, how to handle the two men in my life. One is my infuriating husband, and the other is this dangerously tempting stranger who thinks I’m his ex girlfriend. And he's refused to leave me alone.

Up in Chloe's room, she was glued to her phone screen, her face lit by the glow of whatever rom-com she had queued up. The door was open, so I walked in without knocking. She didn't notice. "What rom-com are we watching?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. She pointed at the screen, grinning. "When Christmas Gets Romantic!" My breath caught. Of course. A movie about falling for someone you shouldn't. About crossing lines you can't uncross. Just like me and Silas. Except I wasn't some innocent heroine stumbling into love. I was the girl getting finger-fucked in a wine cellar by her best friend's father—and going back for more.

“And I had to fix my hair. It got a little messed up.” Molly grinned at the mirror and smoothed down her hair. That ten minutes in the car had been hard to stop. She could still feel his fingertips on her skin and the heat of his kisses. It was all she could do not to go out to the dining room table, grab him by that red silk tie, and drag him back into that backseat for more of what he started. Ten minutes was not nearly enough. “Oh, right. The-Night-Before-The-Night-Before-Christmas. Aw, man. I wish I could’ve gone to that. I love Mrs. Kerstman’s cooking,” Hannah said with a longing sigh. “BakeTown strikes again.”

He followed, groaning my name, hips jerking as he spilled inside the condom. We collapsed together, breaths ragged, his arms wrapping around me protectively. The snow outside thickened, but warmth bloomed in my chest. "That was... us," I said softly, tracing his jaw. No roles, just two people finding solace. He kissed my temple. "Yeah. And it's not ending here. Merry Christmas, Joyce." In that quiet lounge, amid forgotten eggnog and twinkling lights, the holiday transformed from lonely duty to shared intimacy, raw and real, binding us beyond the office walls.

Hot tongues of flame licked through him, scorching him inside and out, making him so hard he couldn’t think about anything but getting her to the nearest flat surface so he could drive himself into her honeyed warmth. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this,’ he groaned as he pulled his mouth off hers to nibble on the soft skin of her neck. ‘Neither should I,’ she whispered back huskily as she gently nipped at his bottom lip, her tongue flicking where her teeth had caught him. ‘I’m not supposed to dating.’ ‘This wasn’t a date,’ he said returning to her mouth to press a series of kisses to its cushioned surface. ‘We just went out to dinner with my kid sister as chaperone.’