Spooky Romance Books Novels & Stories

I searched the werewolf research database on my phone for a while, hunting for anything I could find on one sided mate bonds or small wolf forms. When my search was once again fruitless — as I should have known it would be — I switched to those paranormal romance stories I found that first night after I met Taryn. I needed something to distract me from the ache caused by our distance. I’d had to weed through a lot of terrible books, but I eventually found a few authors who seemed to know what they were writing about. Maybe those authors are supernaturals in disguise. I lift my phone and tap the button that snoozes my alarm, setting it back down on my chest all without even opening my eyes. B

The books here were faintly covered in dust. As he reached out to the top shelf, his eyes fell on a familiar thick black book lying on the floor. The Art Of The Body. Before he could stop himself, his eyes flicked up and locked with Scarlett. She didn't look away, but a deep blush gradually spread across her cheeks. That book brought back memories, and for a moment, he forgot the unspoken tension between them. He looked away finally and pulled out several dusty books from the shelf. Two were about old werewolves, one about vampires, and the last one was about witches.

she cocked her brow, her tone matter of fact. “Obviously not, but there has to be a middle ground between bed rest and insanity.” “There isn’t. That’s why bed rest sucks.” She settled into the chair beside the bed. “Want me to read to you? I found this absolutely terrible supernatural romance where the werewolf heroine falls for a vampire—” “That sounds awful.” “It’s amazingly awful. That’s the point.” She opened the book, clearing her throat dramatically. “Chapter One: The night I met Aire was the night everything changed…”

She pushed that down deep, sipping from stored bags in the fridge. Rain hammered the windows that Tuesday night. Lydia sat at her desk, sorting through a box of new books. One caught her eye: Spirits of the Wild: Bindings and Releases. The cover was cracked leather, smelling like dirt and old forests. She flipped it open, her fingers brushing over faded words in some ancient tongue. "Just a peek," she told herself. Curiosity burned in her chest. She read the spell aloud, soft and quick, like testing a locked door. The air changed. It got heavy, like before a storm. Candles on the shelves flickered wild, shadows dancing on the walls. A rumble started low, from the book itself. Lydia's hands s

Sam said, trying to ease the tension. “That is apparent,” she said, coldly. They walked down a long row of perfectly trimmed hedges, workers all around them, hard at work trimming and pruning, tending to an endless row of roses. “The only thing that brings life to our party is your kind,” she said, as they turned down yet another trail, and passed a huge bubbling fountain. So, Sam realized. At least she knew he was a vampire. That was a relief. It meant less explaining for him.

It was scorching like a flame and if auras could be tasted, hers would definitely be bitter. I shuddered, walking over to the first aisle to check it out. The first book that caught my attention was Blood, Pawns and Obsession. It was a dark romance by Rylie Martin. I had one of my projects on hold because I wanted to read this book and get into the head of the psychotic male lead, so I would understand him better and be able to execute my plotline to my taste. The grin on my face unconsciously widened, and I brought the book to my nose, sniffing it in.

Feeling amazed that the Alpha will read something like this, especially knowing that most wolves hate vampires for its history. As Brianna began to slowly crouch and check more, finding other books that are similar to Twilight, like vampire club, vampire moon, and other things, suddenly Brianna felt a sudden wind behind her. ‘A wind?’ she muttered, automatically turning around to find no source as the room had no window. There’s just an old bookcase with a creepy vibe behind her.

muttered Sumico excitedly. Sumico went on taking a look at Hanny’s other romance novels one by one until she reached a book – not a novel, but it got the similar size with a novel. The title was tickling, somewhat queer, strange, and scary. Sumico turned the book back to read the synopsis for a while.

Not the first-edition, obscure ones she collected. To his constant amusement, her guilty little pleasure was binge-reading supernatural romance stories. Real trash—about werewolves, ghosts, vampires and the like. Books that were shockingly racy and nevertheless a total waste of paper and ink. She bought them online, so that even her husband didn’t know, and disposed of them discreetly in a public trash on her way to work once she’d finished them a scant few hours later. Of course, Duke had also read them.

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