The Sacred Romance Novels & Stories

"So, I'd like to ask, what kind of mentor-mentee relationship involves using a girlfriend's supplementary card to buy the mentee a Tiffany necklace? What kind of mentor-mentee relationship involves booking a king-size room together at a hot spring hotel?" The room erupted in murmurs. Everly's face turned pale. She instinctively grabbed onto Jeremy's sleeve. "You... You're lying! That was for work!" she screamed. I gestured for Justin Orson to play the projection. On the screen appeared a list of transactions alongside corresponding social media posts. [December 1: Thank you for the necklace, Jeremy. I love it.] [Transaction: 2000 dollars charged to Jeremy's supplementary card.] [December 24:

"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."

“That is why I am giving you this. These herbs, when mixed with wine, will help her have dreams of her fated mate. Once she finds him, then you will be free. If someone without a fated mate drinks the wine, they will have nightmares, though. So I caution you not to consume them yourself because we can not be certain.” I take the herbs from my mother and kiss her cheek, thanking her before heading home. Then tell Sheila that I will cook her a romantic dinner that we can enjoy in my basement studio together. I pour a bottle of red wine into a carafe where I steep the herbs while I prepare herb roasted lamb and new potatoes with a mixed green and goat cheese salad. Dressed in a modernized versi

“I am really glad, Lily. I am. It looks like things are finally starting to look up for you too.” I smiled at her shakily. “I am scared, Salome,” I confessed as I held the roses to my chest like a shield. “It always happens like this for me. The moment I start to believe in the good, I let my self be happy, and then…..something always comes along to spoil it. Something bad always happens.” She reached out and took my free hand and held on tightly. “Not this time,” she said earnestly, “this union is different. It is already ordained by the Moon Goddess herself. A mate bond is a sacred thing. Nothing and no one can spoil what she had put together.”

Asher’s hand closed around mine, firm and unyielding, yet his warmth seeped through my skin, sending a tremor through my chest. When our palms touched upon the sacred stone, a spark leapt between us—sharp, blinding, and impossibly intimate. My breath hitched, my body swayed as if the moon itself had claimed me. “As our ancestors once vowed beneath this light,” Asher whispered, his voice low and rough, “so do we.” The words tangled with the heat in his gaze, making my pulse race faster than I could control. In that moment, the ritual was no longer just holy—it was alive, burning, and unbearably close.

Alois Devaraux, the first Emperor of Heaven who is known for his excellency in crafting weapons, set his own foot on the land of mortals to bring peace and execute the wolves using his very own hands. Meanwhile, in a far away mountain located in the land of mortals home a woman who fell in love with a wolf, Callista Cournellier. Upon searching for a Comfrey amidst the forest, she stumbled upon a man whom she thought of as a hunter, Louis Valentine. Their meetings did not end in this and they eventually got married. The woman soon bore a child in her womb. The gender is still unknown but a decision has been made to call the baby Anastasia if it’s a female, or Gavin if it is of the opposite ge

“Yes, my love. It’s a communion of our beings, a sacred ritual that heightens our connection and solidifies our eternal bond. I cherish these moments with you.” I brushed my thumb along his jawline, admiration shining in my eyes. “And I, too, cherish every moment we spend together. There’s an indescribable intimacy in these shared experiences, an intimacy that only we can understand.” He nodded, his expression filled with a mixture of love and gratitude. “You have given me a gift beyond measure, Mia. Not only your blood, but your unwavering trust and unconditional love. I am forever grateful for your presence in my immortal life.”

I, without moving my gaze while continuing my work, replied to her, "Yes Sophie" "Who is your prom Dia?" Then I moved my gaze and looked at her, "No one". She said with a shocked expression, "Are you serious Dia? For God's sake today is prom". "So what?", I said while raising my one eyebrow. "So you should come with your prom". "Sophie you know that I'm not interested in it". After saying I again began to continue my work. "O come on Dia don't be like Ananya. Prom comes once in a year and you should come and enjoy it with your special one". "But Sophie I haven't found someone special yet". Then I turned towards her and asked her, "Anyways what about you? With whom you are coming?" "Ofcourse

I froze. He hesitated. “Not all of it. But I know enough to treat it with reverence.” “And what is she, to you?” the last question came. He paused. Then said softly, “A sacred kind of grief and grace.” The silence in the hall said more than words could. And I, standing behind the curtain, felt my heart do that strange, old ache again—the one that made me feel like both a ghost and a girl. Because the truth was, no one in Rome knew the full story. No one except me.

“Please enlighten us.” The entire class turned and looked in Scarlet’s direction, at Sage. She was relieved to realize he wasn’t calling on her. She couldn’t help turning just a bit, too, looking behind her, at Sage. Instead of looking at the teacher, oddly, Sage looked at her as he spoke. “Romeo and Juliet was based on a poem by Arthur Brooke: The Tragicall Historye of Romeus and Iuliet.” “Very good!” Mr. Sparrow said, sounding impressed. “And for extra points, might you know the year it was written?”