Western Historical Romance Novels Novels & Stories

“Treason, Nana. Treason." “It does not matter. We need to find where I belong or what I am.” She goes on again, rambling. I wish I could exchange her for a more understanding wolf. Pushing my hair to the back of my ear, I flip the page of the new book and read through each line. I roll my eyes and scoff. Romance. How can a character’s first interest be about a man? Doesn’t she love coins? Food? Fashion, or even education? Why must it be a man?

SELENE She was an avid reader. Especially if it was a romance novel, be it with the mafia genre, sports romance, chick-lit, or her favorite was historical romance. She dabbled a bit in fantasy romance like the vampire-werewolf stories as well. What just came from the mouth of the most handsome person on earth was like the premise of a fantasy romance novel. “Come again?” Selene made sure she heard that right. “How was your coming-of-age celebration, Selene? Where is your pack and your Alpha? I couldn’t sense your wolf,” he continued to interrogate her.

N/B: This chapter contains Somnophilia/NonCon. Somnophilia: sexual fantasy involving someone who’s asleep or unconscious. If this isn’t your vibe, please skip. Cole Pacing in front of her door, I exhale a nervous breath. It’s early in the morning. I had gone for a long run to burn off the anger and shock from last night. Once it faded, I realized she was right. I was a coward. Harper had done the one thing I’d dreamt about from the first day I met her, she’d been brave enough to reach for what she wanted, and I had shamed her for it.

I scoffed at his silliness. Reaching a spot that Xander found suitable, he directed me to stand by the stump of a tree, then disappeared behind another tree to start his shift. Patiently, I waited, my thoughts consuming me once again. I have read countless romance novels, and werewolf stories are among the hottest genres, filled with passion and mystery. While I know some of the terms, it's hard to believe they could be real. Yet now, I confront the reality that what once seemed like fiction is now a part of my life.

Love replied. “Okay love, what about me? Huh?” Belle asked wondering. “What do you mean, what about you?” Love replied. “Well I mean, do I also not strike you as a romantic? Do i strike you as the sexual type?” Belle asked eagerly. “Well Belle, if you must know, you’re never open about these things. You always talk about how much you hate and despise guys. How you think they are all so disgusting and disrespectful. Literally, no guy who has ever had a crush on you, didn’t end up getting crushed by you.

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.”

Then, as I scrolled further, a suggestion caught my eye: "Read romance novels to understand what love looks like in action." It sounded ridiculous, but desperation overrode pride. I clicked onto a bookstore website and began scrolling through its romance section. The titles and covers differed-some sweet, others fiery-but they all promised the same thing: a vision of what love might look like. I put a stack of them into my cart, trying to block out that nagging little voice inside my head, which questioned what I was doing. As I finished placing the order, I caught my reflection in the screen. Garrett Cullen, crime lord, feared by most, now rummaging through romance novels for answers. The t

Today, their warnings seemed especially poignant. "The references are scattered," Liza said, her finger tracing a line of ancient text, "but they're consistent. There have been attempts throughout history to control wolves, to strip them of their free will." Her voice carried the weight of centuries of recorded suffering. "The Romans tried it. Various medieval orders attempted it. But none succeeded - at least, not like this." I paused in my grinding, the sharp scent of crushed herbs burning my sensitive nose. As a healer, I had seen countless wounds - both physical and spiritual. But something about these augmented wolves felt different. Wrong in a way that made my very soul recoil. "What m

Francesca knew this was a no-brainer, of the two men, one was a fifty-one-year-old widow and the other a twenty-eight-year-old bachelor. "Ah, Asher Evans it is then, I'll set a date for your first meet with him," Francesca declared when Joan picks the twenty-eight-year-old bachelor. Although Francesca thought it was quite unfortunate that her niece should go on a date with the wicked rascal, she had to concede, desperate times, desperate measures. "I don't understand, why would I go on a date with him?" "I told you it's an old tradition, it's an alliance between families, a marriage of opportunity, but who knows, it might spark some romance you desperately need in your life," Francesca state

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