Timeless Romance Novels Novels & Stories

It's either history, military, or supernatural romances. I've never understood why so many people preferred such kinds of novels and genres all that much. Though, I meant that for the latter part. They're basically the same every single time. An average lady meets one sexy, handsome, extraordinary man, or two hot males battle over her, and there's usually some ridiculous drama that brings her further and deeper together with the men, and then she has to choose the obvious decision. Everyone had predicted her decision since the very beginning of the chapter. "And they're usually sequels or fantasy epics," I mumbled to myself.

she said with a wink, settling beside me on the couch and pulling a fuzzy blanket over us both. She queued up the movie on her TV, the opening credits filling the room with upbeat music. As the story unfolded lighthearted banter, stolen glances, the kind of sweet romance that made your heart flutter—I tried to lose myself in it. Mira laughed at the jokes, nudging me with her elbow, but I could only manage faint smiles. My mind wandered back to Zayden, to the way his touch had once felt like safety, now tainted by blood.

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.

I kept my voice flat, but my pulse was already sprinting. She leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Come to the roof in ten minutes. Bring the coat you hate wearing.” Then she was gone, swallowed by the crowd, leaving nothing but that scent….the scent of jasmine and warm skin and the memory of her breath on my neck. I lasted eight minutes. The rooftop door opened onto a private terrace strung with white fairy lights and fake snow. A single heat lamp glowed red in the corner. The city sparkled below us like spilled diamonds.

Susan blushed, and Alexei tilted his head, curious. “Weird books? Now I’m interested.” “They’re just fiction. Suspense, mystery… Sometimes romance.” She shrugged modestly. “Romance?” He raised an eyebrow. “The sugary kind or the ones that keep you up all night reading?” She bit her lip, thoughtful. “The ones that make you think. I like imperfect characters. Relationships that are built over time. Real feelings, you know?” Alexei’s smile remained, but his eyes grew more attentive. “You don’t believe much in instant passions?”

Things had been put in place and in a few years’ time, when Gian took over, he would be free to enjoy his life and live as a normal man, on his rose farm. Lorenzo thought of his home in Chicago, deep in the middle of nowhere, a mansion surrounded by nothing but woods and roses. He missed it, his other home. New York was the thoroughbred of life, the blood veins of businesses, but Chicago was where he felt the most at peace.

The car was silent for almost a minute before Anthony started to speak. “The fourth rule shall be; us displaying public affection but being ourselves in private.” “PDAs? Like what?” “Hugging, holding hands, and kissing.” I almost choked on my spit at the last thing he said. He wanted to actually do romantic things in public, with me. “K-kissing?” Anthony nodded with a look as if I was supposed to know about the rule. “We will need to do those things in public to deceive people. People on social media are smart, babe. They can sense bullshit from just posting one word. I said this before, Sandy. So, yes. The fourth rule will be; romance in public, friendship in private.”

Most of them were what I expected—books on strategy, history, a few on Italian mafia politics. And then, tucked on the bottom shelf, almost hidden— "You weren't kidding about these?" I pulled one out, raising an eyebrow. "Really?" "Put that back." "The Duke's Dangerous Desire," I read aloud, grinning. "A Rake's Redemption. The Highlander's Captive Bride—" "Jameson." Her voice was sharp, but I could hear the embarrassment underneath. "Put them back." "I'm not judging," I said, turning to face her. "I'm just surprised. You kill people for a living, but you read romance novels?"

25 March 1820 Rome, Italy Jacob was lounging on a chair and Mrs. Valentina Lombardi, the most sought after courtesan in Rome was sprawled on his lap, her lush body pressed to his as she tried to coax a reaction out of him. He knew all the other men watching him envied him. But for the life of him, he couldn't muster any enthusiasm for the act. Instead of finding her perfume enticing, he found it cloying. The smoke from the cigars made him feel suffocated.

She heard Irene scream in excitement, "what the hell are you guys doing?" "Oh, oh," Tasha and Irene turned to face her, "This is so good, Elle!" Irene ran to her and hugged her, "This is awesome!" "what are you talking about?" She frowned. "The book, who said you can't write romance? This book is so good! I can't even explain it in words," Irene squealed. "You liked it?" Elle smiled at her. "I loved it!" "I didn't know you could write a romance novel," Tasha blinked in surprise. "Dude, it's like you've poured your heart out," Tasha couldn't believe her eyes.