Survival Romance Books Novels & Stories

My heart stuttered. I quickly pulled my hand back, cheeks burning. “Sorry about that, I didn’t—” Before I could finish the sentence, Ezekiel grabbed my wrist gently but firmly. In the next breath, he leaned in and kissed me. The world stopped. His lips were warm and surprisingly soft against mine, despite the cut. The kiss started slow, almost hesitant, but quickly deepened. He tilted his head slightly, pressing harder, his mouth moving against mine with a hunger that made my knees weak. I felt the faint metallic taste of the cut on his lip, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the way he was kissing me deeply and urgently, like he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

The urge to know more about her spurs me forward as I spin and face the rest of her room. Bare beige walls and a bookshelf that is full of books staring back at me. Most of the books look brand new and have never been touched except for three. As I move closer to the shelf, fingering along the three well-loved books with fraying spines, I realize Sarah was a romantic. Each book describes a girl whose life altered drastically and who was saved by a handsome prince or man of status. All stories are morbidly opposite to the life she is living with a mate who couldn’t save her from her living nightmares.

"This isn’t a romance novel, Nanny. This is my life, and I’m just trying to do my job without embarrassing myself." Nanny laughs, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, Isa. You’re making it sound like it’s the worst thing in the world. Just imagine it—a forbidden workplace romance, secret glances, and the tension! Oh, how thrilling! The babysitter and the boss. You’ve already got the perfect setup." I glare at her. "Nanny, stop. He’s my boss, and he has a child. A cute child, by the way, who is clearly going through something. I’m not about to entertain any fantasies about him."

I’m damn proud of it, and I’m glad I didn’t give up after the first fail. I’ve discovered that I get into those fantasy stories where one person knows who his or her soul mate is upon meeting them, or even before that, as what happened in the A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas, A Kinda Fairy Tale series by Cassandra Gannon, and many of the shifter books by Eve Langlais that I have loved so much. So that’s where I came up with the Love Mark idea.

My father could take as many women as he desired, but they could never take the place of my mother, whom he had murdered. The Moon Goddess gave our mates to us, though some considered her a pesky meddler. My father had been mated to my mother when he was rather young, and they had grown up side by side. My mother, the Lycan Luna, was graceful and submissive to her alpha, never challenging me in public or causing him any reason to be ashamed of her. My mother adored my father and lived her life each day to please him. She was mostly successful until the day tragedy struck.

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Damien noticed the change in her expression. "Something wrong?" She quickly locked the screen. "No. Nothing at all." But the knot forming in her stomach told her that this charade was spiraling into something far more perilous than she had ever imagined. "I care about you, Serena," he said, eyes lifting, voice soft. "But not in the way you deserve." The memory looped in her mind like a broken record. She had begged him not to leave that night. And yet, he did. Now, as she stared at Damien's contract, she realized that was the night she stopped believing in love- and began learning to survive without it.

“That’s all I ask. For now.” Amina was strong, but strength wasn’t enough in this world. She needed to be smart, calculated. And as much as I admired her fiery resistance, I needed her to stay alive long enough to understand the rules of the game. If she couldn’t do that, she wouldn’t last long. 9 AMINA "Survive." That word kept echoing in my head, like a warning I couldn’t ignore. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t want to be here.

2 VIKTOR Seraphina had been different. More intense. She didn’t try to poison me; she tried to burn me. She thought fire could destroy me, but fire only fueled my rage. I remembered her face, her grin as she watched the flames spread, confident that I’d be consumed by them, that she would be free. But I didn’t burn. I survived. I walked straight through the flames, each step deliberate, each breath steady. By the time I reached her, her satisfaction had turned to dread. She thought she had all the time in the world to watch me burn, but it had taken her too long to realize I was already a step ahead.

I was pretty good at it and at the urging of my then girlfriend Julie, had submitted a few to a story site named Erotic escapes where under the pen name hotforteacher I'd gotten some pretty good reviews. Most of my stories were about older women with guys my age and Miss Ross had been the inspiration for many of them. Most of my female leads had the same long dark hair, big brown eyes and perfect full lips as my favorite English teacher. Yes Miss Ross had been the nasty little cougar in my mind and in print many times over the last few months. Shit, I'd even joined her writing discussion group because it met every other Sunday at her house.