The Best Romance Novels Novels & Stories

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.

"Mine is supernatural and mystery." "Am guessing you must like romance novels.... I mean all girls does...... " I shut the book am reading with a loud thud, cutting him shut. raising my head to give him a glare, I growl out in frustration. "I don't like romance novels, they are so cheeky and so unreal, I prefer supernaturals, especially were wolves. Satisfied." "Umh.... Almost." He smiles sheepishly. I rub on the tip on my nose with my fingers, massaging it softly.

"You like mysteries?" "Sometimes." "Better than romance novels?" My face heated. Had he seen me looking at that shelf? Had he been watching? "Much better," I said firmly. "Romance novels are... unrealistic." Something flickered in his eyes. Amusement maybe. "Are they?" "Yes. All that instant attraction and forbidden desire and enemies becoming lovers. It doesn't work like that in real life." "Doesn't it?" The way he said it—the slight emphasis, the look in his eyes—made my stomach flip.

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“If it’s the one person who makes your heart race and your blood feel like it’s on fire, then yes. Common sense doesn’t stand much of a chance.” “But what if that person is the worst possible choice?” I asked. “What if he doesn’t respect her, doesn’t love her back, treats her like crap?” “Why are you so worked up?” She snatched the book out of my hands and glanced at the cover. Then she snorted. “Oh. I get it now. You’ve been reading again. A historical romance? Honestly, that’s still an improvement over those creepy occult books you used to read. What, you didn’t like the hero?”

“One thing, to write a romance novel.” “Me too. Never liked those types of novels.” “There is one more type that I don't like.” “What type is that?” “Where the husband cheats his wife, and she faithfully prays that he will return to her and that they will live happily ever after.” “Just, look at our Lady Vertina.” “What's with her?” “The last time, I heard about her, she had three lovers and two husbands.” “Three lovers and two husbands? ” “Yes. Do you know, what's the best part?”

My house seemed the perfect fit for me, and I liked that it was a bit tucked away from things so I could enjoy my privacy somewhat as well, without hearing the hustle and bustle of the pack house even after hours. Washing my face quickly I grabbed my latest read, a romance novel of course because what girl doesn't desire some romance in her life? Even if it can only be found in the pages of a book. The cover displayed the typical damsel in distress in the arms of a rugged looking man, your usual romance trope if you will. Still, I could easily get lost in these sorts of novels for hours, fantasizing about a man I had yet to meet and wondering when I would. Not having a mate at my age (24) wa

Shadow raised her head to smell it, her big brown eyes curious, but upon finding it to be nothing other than frustrating ideas, she resettled. It had seemed so easy at first glance. Audrey and Ray had fallen in love once; I knew they could do it again. I had buzzed through my shift, sprinted home, and hopped on the computer for research. Fast forward two hours and I had no results. Everything I found was either too complex or too reminiscent of “The Parent Trap”. I had no idea how to get these two people to fall in love, let alone how to get them in the same room. My balloon of hope and excitement was quickly deflating, reality a slow leak sinking it. My phone chimed, and the noise startled

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. Men think wiggling their eyebrows at us or doing what you were doing is sexy, but really, it isn’t, especially when you’re dressed like that.” I shrug and slump on the bed next to her. “I just thought it was romantic, you know?” She leans over to the side of the bed and pulls out a romance book from under the pillow. “Use this. It’s the best manual for what girls really like.” I take the book and study the cover. A man is kissing the neck of a woman whose blouse is slightly off her shoulder. “Blah,” I say and toss the book to the side. I actually think I’ve read it before.

“She’ll probably spend the whole holiday in here if you let her.” I walked the aisles slowly, trailing my fingers over the books. Classics. Thrillers. A whole section of contemporary romance—Mirabel’s doing, mostly. She’d started collecting them in high school, said they were “escapist but smart.” I’d never read them. Too many happy endings. Too much hope wrapped in pretty words. I pulled one down at random. Dark cover, brooding man in a suit, and title written in gold foil: Claimed by the Billionaire. I snorted softly, then slid it back.