Victorian Romance Books Novels & Stories

"What are you reading?" "None of your business." I came around behind her chair, leaning over her shoulder to see the title. My arm brushed against hers, and I felt her tense. "Victorian poetry," I read aloud. "Didn't take you for the romantic type." "I'm not." She snapped the book closed. "I was just killing time." "There are better ways to kill time." My lips were close to her ear, and I saw the goosebumps rise on her skin. "We could—"

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his chest heaving violently against hers as the echoes of their breaths filled the vast, quiet library. Grace held him just as tightly, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. In the absolute isolation of the East Wing library, under the shadow of the basalt wall, the clinical boundaries holding their marriage together had been completely reduced to ashes, leaving nothing behind but the raw, undeniable truth of the man who had built a fortress to keep her alive.

His hand rested possessively on her bare lower back, thumb stroking the sensitive skin there, sending shivers through her. Whispers followed them. “Damien Blackwood married? In secret?” “Who is she?” Damien introduced her simply as “my wife,” his tone brooking no questions. During the seated dinner, Victoria Lang, a stunning raven-haired business rival, leaned far too close to Damien, laughing at his dry wit and brushing his arm repeatedly.

Or a library on steroids. When she reached the romance section, she had to restrain a squeal of delight when she found an array of old-school romances from the seventies and eighties in their bodice-ripping glory: in rainbow hues, the covers depicted men with bulging arms, their shirts open to the wind as women swooned in their arms. Some of the women stood in the strangest poses; Lucy had to cover her mouth to keep from giggling like an idiot.

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.

Marco added before he dropped the call. I guess it was time to unbury the hatchet. Even if it has rotten in the ground, we don't have a choice. //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// Dear Readers, Vampire and the Siren is now available on A****n, you can get a copy for an affordable price. Same book title and book cover by Musa Anastasia. Thank you.

We could have had biological children of our own with our vampire mates all along! We walked into the small library and I realized that this was where they had kept Viktoria. My eyes went to Fynn and I could feel a hiss in the back of my throat as he walked over to a shelf and pulled out three books. I recognized the backs since they were exactly the same as the ones in our library that contained the history of the ancient. I wanted to read them. I wanted to read all of them, but I couldn’t show my excitement just yet. I didn’t know what the beasts would want in return for the books and I sure as hell wasn’t going to hang around here every night reading.

“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.

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.

I needed to cut her off. "Look, they're doing the walking around the fire thing." She said. I hummed non committal. "I read about it in this book by Drethi Anis. Five thousand nights of obsession. The book was so good." "You read?" I asked. I had never seen any book in her apartment or caught her with a book. "Yes." She blushed, then quietly. "Romance books." "You don't strike me as the romance type." I looked at her intently. "Is it one of those raunchy books with shirtless men carrying scabbards on the cover."