The Best Romantic Novel Novels & Stories

How I met him was quite a meet-cute, never have I been in a relationship this passionate. He was everything and supported me, he gave me all I ever asked for. Since I first met him at the club, where I turned from a waitress to a striper, he had always hovered around me. He made me felt special, I could see his love for me in his eyes. We never had any problems, just small irrelevant arguments. I have been dreaming about the day he would propose to me, to be sincere, I have never been this patient in my life.

I told him about the bookstore, about the customers who came in looking for very specific recommendations. "There was this woman yesterday who wanted a romance where the hero is a villain but not in a sexy way. Just actually terrible." Daemon's lips twitched. "Did you find her one?" "I recommended Wuthering Heights. She looked horrified." "Accurate, though." "Right? Heathcliff is the worst. But people romanticize him anyway." "People romanticize a lot of things they shouldn't." The way he said it made me look at him more closely. There was something in his expression—something almost vulnerable beneath the usual control.

*** We spent the afternoon at the bookstore down the street, because of course Alessio had to prove that he could, in fact, pick a better novel than I could. He was wrong. Obviously. “You can’t seriously think this is better than Austen,” I said, holding up my book in triumph. Alessio crossed his arms, giving me that infuriating smirk. “Rosa, The Count of Monte Cristo is a masterpiece.” “It’s long.” “It’s revenge.” I snorted. “Why am I not surprised?” His smirk widened. “What can I say? I have a type.” I arched a brow. “And what type is that?”

Sleep would most definitely be eluding me tonight. But I didn’t particularly care. My big vice was romance novels. I just loved them. And the cheesier and sappier and more unrealistic they got, the more I invested myself in them because, by that point, it was pretty much only the emotions they seemed to evoke that mattered. They were just so yummy and fulfilling and...and amazing. I devoured them like potato chips, damning any sleepless-night consequences that might follow. So basically, I was pretty much determined to finish this entire book tonight.

“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.

His warm hands on my face and his closeness set my body ablaze with my feelings for him, coupled with the soft words he was uttering. “Sandy,” he said softly and rubbed my cheekbones with his thumb. “I… After understanding what my heart is feeling… Sandy… I…” My heart hammered faster every second. Blood rushed through my body at a speed that my head started to get light. I was anxious to hear what he had to say. A part of me dreaded separation and the other part of me remained positive. “I know I’m the worst at romance, but this is me pouring my heart out.” He gulped. “Sandy… I… I love you.”

I whisper not wanting to disturb other people in the store "Jane Austin again!" Lexi laughs. "look she kinda ruled the classics era, you know," I say with a shrug. I take a look at the books Lexi was caressing a minute back." any good read in the modern romance?" I point at the books assembled in the rack right in front of her. "oh yeah, I am a big collen hover fan. I mean verity and ugly love are my favorites of all," she reaches for a book and hands it over to me.

It was obvious he wanted Marsha to be jealous. Carrie pulled slightly away. ^Almost} Maybe you were right when you said there is no such thing as love. It is an overrated feeling connected with sexual compatibility. One thing you have in your favour though, if I get tired of sex, maybe Marsha will oblige!’ It had started out as a romantic conversation, but now Carrie felt Alexis stiffen.

“Um ok, you really are amazing.” “I am, it’s part of the charm.” “Favourite author then?” “V.E. Schwab her fantasy writing is fucking out of this world amazing.” “Addie LaRue was spectacular.” “Yes it was, ok who’s your favourite author?” I ask then. “Colleen Hoover, she has me crying for days. Ugly Love had me staring at the wall at 3am. November 9 had me in tears and Verity I was just so fucking shocked by that book I didn’t know what to do.”

My publisher announced. "Give me that." Amara Keener. An exquisitely stunning woman. Everything about her is so perfect, and I can see myself spending longer time with her. I have to make her mine, even for a while. Because I want my next novel to be the best novel I have ever written. She will be the best protagonist in literary history. People will be crazy about this novel, and I will be acclaimed once again. "Hi, Amara. How are you? I'm sorry if I came on too strong last night. I am so glad that you reached out."