Results 1 - 10 of All formats available for PC, Mac, eBook Readers and other mobile A love story that is both sweet and sad - Seventeen-year-old Amy was. eBooks - Category: Romance - Download free eBooks or read books online for free. Discover new Free eBooks - Romance Keywords: cute, love, story. download free romance books, novels and women’s fiction. In this category you will find a wealth of free romance novels in a wide range of romantic fiction genres. Read the best romance novels and free romance books online, available in pdf, epub and site formats.
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Christian Romance Fiction Novels With a Purpose--By Best Selling Author Staci Stallings. Do you love to read novel romance, this app for you. There are numerous novel romance, which you fell from your heart. Novel stories is all you need. Each and. Fiction» Romance . Join Cole, Oakley and their family for Christmas day in this 7, word short story. Can their budding romance survive the beast?.
P, as most of the youth referred to her was a large, African-American woman with a personality to match her girth. She had never met a stranger because according to her, once you hug a person, they are no longer a stranger, and Ms. P hugged everybody—whether they needed one or not. In fact, Luke had had his fair share of hugs from Ms. P because next to introducing herself with a hug, she also paid with them as well. As president of the youth group, he was often tasked with… well, tasks.
P really came after you good then.
Pulling five large bags of spaghetti off the shelf, he added them to the growing mound in his cart. Only bread remained on the list, and he pushed his way around the aisle cap to get it.
As soon as he finished here, he needed to get over to the church. The last thing he wanted was for Ms. P to show up and have to do it. She did enough. Grabbing loaves of bread, he thought again of Jaycee. Normally she would be here, meeting up with him with another cart about now.
But not today. Today, she was re-meeting her sister, and Luke had to admit he was glad he was here rather than there. From her seat in the aging family minivan, Sage did her best to check her adverse reaction to practically everything as they rolled through the little town and out into the country.
Not that the town would have been any better. She was quite sure the newest home there was at least a decade old and had not weathered its age very well. Sage smiled, but it was forced. Had it not been for his efforts, no one would have even spoken on the ride. The smile got swallowed in her fight to cushion the truth. I kind of remember going to the church. With the wooden floors?
Why had she agreed to this? The second she got the chance to text her mother, she was going to find another option and take it because this was a bad idea.
A very, very bad idea. It took more than one wrench of the doorknob to get it open after she fluffed and fretted about her own appearance. When her mother turned and caught sight of her, she scowled. We want to make a good impression. With a deep sigh and a roll of her eyes, Jaycee straightened.
This was going to be a long three months. The house was small, tiny in fact, and as Sage exited the vehicle, she took it all in, wondering how many rooms it could even have.
And that was being generous. That felt so off-kilter, him standing there waiting for her, looking at her like she was an angel fallen from Heaven. Fighting every horrible thought in her, Sage squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and put her head back.
Somehow she managed to smile at him brightly. The nod was kind of sideways, but she did get her head to go down. Her heels clicked on the concrete sidewalk as they passed the modest flowerbed that was filled with growing things and a few flowers all the way to the front door.
He took a step back to let her enter first. Stepping up and into the home was a challenge mostly because it seemed so very dark and dim inside.
The last thing she wanted to do was trip. Without warning, she was pulled into a hug that lasted mere seconds but felt much longer than that. Thank you. Lawrence or Emily or… Stepmom if you would like. And these are our children. Lawrence went over to the two figures on the other side of the room.
You probably remember her from last time, and this is Ryder. Nodding and trying to smile at both of them, Sage willed her polite training to overtake her judgment of everyone and everything.
Then Jaycee looked over at her mom.
Lawrence glanced over at Sage with an apology in her eyes and then leveled her gaze at her daughter. Maybe she could go with you afterward. Lawrence looked down at Ryder who was still staring at Sage with a goofy look on his face.
Lovely it was not. Cramped, crumpled and befuddled came much closer. The bedspread was lime-green and white striped with small pink flowers on it. Her skin crawled just thinking about sleeping there. Lawrence stepped back to show Sage who wondered what she was going to do with the eight suitcases of stuff waiting in the van.
Lawrence said when they were gone. It was how her voice sounded, and she was having great difficulty trying to force it not to crack right down the center. Sage was still a little fuzzy on the details of how her banishment had come to be, but she smiled and nodded as if she knew every fact by heart.
Horror and surprise coursed across Mrs. She looks like a Barbie doll. Perfect hair, perfect nails, perfect makeup. And you should have seen Ryder. His tongue was practically hanging out. Finished with the lettuce, she turned and put her hands over the back pockets of her jeans. The smile that crossed his heart was sad and futile. What did he have to offer in the boyfriend department anyway? Truth was, he admired her taste in not choosing him. Pushing those thoughts back and away, he finished up at the sink and went to take care of the trash on his own.
Ten seconds after they left her to the room, Sage yanked out her cell and typed like her life depended on it, which it almost certainly did. She had to get out of here. She could act with the best of them, but this place would require more than acting. I made it. I know we talked about me going to stay with Aunt Anna as well this summer. Can we talk about doing that sooner rather than later? She hit send and sat very gently on the edge of the bed. It squeaked with the movement. Pulling up the next number in her phone, she sent a text to Patelyn and then one to McKenzie.
Desperation texts, meant to explain the horrible plight she now found herself in. There was no mall here, no shopping centers that she had seen. There was one grocery store that they passed on the way through town, and it had cars with actual dents in them sitting there. Her fingers told the sad, sad tale of just how far she had fallen in the world, and the more she typed, the worse it got. First off, they would surely ruin her makeup.
She would put on the Wentworth charm until she could escape this disaster, and then she would leave and all things Lawrence would be forever behind her, a sad chapter in her life that she would never have to think of again. With that thought, she glanced across the room at her luggage stacked there. It was pointless to unpack.
As much as he hated washing dishes, Luke was having an immense amount of fun watching her walk in and out. He began to notice that each time she came back, she would say something to him. Each time he retorted the comment, but each one brushed across his heart like the gentle wing of an angel.
The Romantic Story of the Mayflower Pilgrims, and Its Place in the Life of To-
By the time she brought the final items from the line, he was sad to see her reason for coming back here go. He could hardly hold the laugh as he watched her go through the other door. In seconds she was back, hefting the tea dispenser.
Just then he realized she was going to have the thing all over the floor if she tried to get it up onto that counter by herself. Manual labor. P said, bustling about as she stacked more pans on the other side of the counter. Never would she have thought she would feel that way immersed in dirty pots and pans, but every time she went into that kitchen, her spirit said it was filled with warmth and safety. Maybe the first real safety she had felt since landing here three weeks before.
Stepping back, she put her hands on her hips. His gaze fell to hers, and he shook his head.
Sarcastic, you know how to use a dish towel? From anyone else, she probably would have taken the moniker as an insult. She got one of the towels, trying not to notice all the holes in it.
Back at his side, she picked up one small pan from the top of the new stack he was creating in the draining sink. Running it back and forth to dry the pan, she let out a breath. Strange how a month ago she never would have pictured herself doing such a thing. P even let me in the kitchen today. The people. With a shrug she pulled up another pan. Believe me, I have a new appreciation for the torture of solitary confinement. She retrieved another pan as he replenished her stack. At least I finally got that back.
Defensively and trying to figure out what that laugh meant, he plunged his hands back in the soapy water.
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The best. If Luke had had any air in his system, he would have yelled Fire to get out of this conversation. Now, no lying over dishes. Lifting his eyebrows, he let his gaze slide over her face. This was not a conversation he wanted to be in.
Suddenly her word from before, surreal pounded through his mind. I like Jaycee. Sage shook her head, looking imminently more comfortable than she had 20 minutes before, which did nothing for his nerves. Not like you mean. Not like dating. That backed Luke up. How do I look at her? However, instead of getting sarcastic or mischievous, she grew pensive. The shotgun blast was beginning to sound merciful.
He let his gaze fall to the dish water that was getting greasy instead of soapy. He pulled his sleeve up to his face and rubbed it there, sensing moisture there. No way was he going to ask what was causing it to be there. Sage continued to dry the pans, and remarkably there were now more on her side than on his. His heart was really starting to hurt, and the shake of his head did nothing to stop the pain.
The Long Way Home. You would think he could at least try to be reasonable… for once in his miserable life.
Carefully cutting the thread away, Ami pulled the lacey material free. The curtains were turning out nicely— even Mrs. With one more snip she freed it from the thread and held the finished product up next to the chair to inspect her work. Then she stepped back to examine her handiwork. It was times like this that she believed somehow she was going to make this work. She was going to make it by September, and she would show her father and prove to him he had been wrong about her and her grandfather and this farm the whole time.
She tried not to notice as he appeared at her door and leaned there. Horror hit her square. The floor was covered with white dust and crumbs from the wall. She closed her eyes to the stinging in the backs of her eyes, pushing back at it with her eyelids and her hand. She should have known. She should just give up now. Why was she even doing this? He was right. She would never be able to make this work. However, she shook her head, fighting to keep the tears from spilling over.
The only thing left was surrender. Surrender to the utter hopelessness of it all. No, I thought I knew better. I thought I could make it work. What a joke. Still, the fury made her come back at him.
They might as well knock this place down, and put it out of its misery. He put his hands on his beltline and licked his lips as he stared down at her. Always has been. But he held her firmly. However, he never stopped as he pulled her down the hallway and into the library. And with that, he flipped the handle and flung the doors open. Never releasing her, he pulled her out onto the balcony. In annoyance, Ami shook her head and pushed the beauty of the day and the way he looked enjoying it away from her.
Just you and the wind. People need this. She wanted to be mad. She wanted to be frustrated. She wanted to give up, and she knew if she let herself feel the peace of that balcony, she would find a way to talk herself out of it. His gaze slid down and rested on her. She felt it thought she never looked up. With a shake of her head, believing she could hang on to the anger no matter what, she closed her eyes.
She pushed the pain in her chest down and squeezed her eyes closed to keep it there. She was so incredibly beautiful. For once, just breathe and let it go. His heart broke for her, for the struggle and the deck that was stacked against her. That touch brought her back from keeping the pain down, and she looked up, right through the depths of his eyes. He had never felt anything like that moment.
A second and he had to admit the truth. What if you did what you had to to make this happen? A little time? He knew you could do it. With no hesitation, Jaxton enveloped her with his.
His gaze sank to the planks at their feet as the question raked through him. But then he knew, and he picked his gaze up to meet hers. Then she closed her eyes.
So, what do we do about that sheet rock? The phone hit the cradle with a clang, and Phillip shook his more-salt-than-pepper head before looking across the expanse of mahogany desk into the questioning eyes of his son. Jaxton nodded. Grandfather Snyder. More than one conversation about him had bounced across the phone lines from Los Angeles to Chicago during the past three months.
Phillip leaned forward in his chair and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his finger. Phillip sighed and shook his head, looking like his ulcer might be getting the better of him. Jaxton nodded his understanding of the situation that had his whole family vexed although sympathy for anyone in the situation came nowhere near his consciousness. He tapped his pen on his notebook a few times and then moved back to the real reason he was in the office on Memorial Day weekend. Did you get a chance to look at them yet?
Over the rolling green of the Kansas Flint Hills, the sky hung in painted color combinations only God could get away with.
Periodically the scene outside the balcony doors caught her gaze, and Ami Martin paused to take in its beauty for a moment. Even now with life devoid of any real family, the safety of those hills enveloped her like a warm hug. She returned to her task, pulling books off the shelves and stacking them onto the little coffee table. How many times had she and her grandfather sat in this very room with the balcony doors opened, reading the works of the great ones?
Emerson, Twain, Frost. Although he was a simple farm boy, raised in this very house by the generation before him, she knew in her heart that he had been much more than that. And that was why she was here at this moment, lovingly removing dust from the old, yellowed pages.
She brushed the tendrils of wavy almond-colored hair from her face as tears weaved into and over her heart. He had stayed. Not even her own mother had done so much. She pushed that thought away as she ran the cloth over the shelf.
Not here. Not now. She pulled the black-bound Emerson anthology from the shelf and ran a loving, sad hand over it. She could almost hear his low baritone lilting over the words.
The sunset beyond the doors blurred as she slowly dropped the volume to the table with the others. But with the money dwindling and her father calling every other day to ask if she was ready to give up and simply sell the place, her determination to make this work was waning quickly. She pulled the Poe volume off the next shelf and laughed softly. Yes, this was the only place that had ever been home for her.
The others could keep their high-stress lives and their gazillion neighbors. This was where true happiness resided, and whether they agreed or not, this was where she intended to make a home for herself— right here in Rayland, Kansas. Elizabeth sat silently for a moment. Coming back into the room, Phillip reached for the remote and flipped on the television though it made no sound. Why had he felt that coming in on Memorial Day was a good idea again? He should have taken that vacation he was always saying he was going to.
Anything to get out of this surreal discussion. You know how he feels about women. Fowler called me again last night— you know, Mr. A week or two— tops. Jaxton put a heavy hand against the wall, set his jaw, and examined the painting hanging there without even seeing it.
A long pause settled in the room between them. Jaxton never heard the rest of the itinerary. His mind was alternating between red hot flashes of anger and trying to figure out the quickest way to get this job done so he could get back to his real life— back to something other than fields full of nothing but dust and old, worthless dreams.
Over her sandwich Ami surveyed her to-do list, marking each entry with a one through ten and trying to decide what needed attention most. By the time she got to the end of the list, she was already exhausted. There was so much to do. So much to get ready before she could even think about putting her plan into action. She pulled out her calendar and checkbook and laid them on the table next to the to-do list.
September 1, circled in purple, stared back at her.
Just the sight took her breath away. She had less than three months to get the place in order, and a rapidly dwindling amount of funds to accomplish that. It was clear sitting here staring at the numbers that she would have to start watching the budget more closely. Sighing as she brushed back the strands of hair that had escaped from the loose braids cascading down her shoulders, she slid the to-do list into the calendar and closed the checkbook.
She carried her lunch dishes to the sink and ran water on them. But this time was worse. Reaching up, he ran his hand over the hard-gelled sticks of brown hair lying perfectly on his head. Then he snorted. He swiped at the right turn signal of the new red sports car angrily.
How dare they send him to do what they should be doing. The tires kicked up dust billows behind him. If anything happens to my accounts, heads are going to roll. How many times had she watched her grandfather do this? How many times? Apparently not enough. Finally letting it go, she raked both hands onto her head and squinted into the problem. The cables are connected. What else could be wrong? Carefully she leaned over the hood of the pickup and examined the maze of wires and metal.
She traced the battery cable away from the starter. There was a trick to this, and Grandfather knew it. All she had to do was figure out what that trick was, and she was home free. But the trip from here to home free was looking more and more impassable by the second.
Jaxton had always prided himself for being able to find any address in Chicago— no matter how bad the directions were, but after driving up and down identical farm roads for 45 minutes, he knew he was lost. The farmhouse just beyond the trees looked like it was about a hundred years old as did every other building on the place, and as he killed the engine and looked around, he wondered if anyone even lived here anymore.
In fact, the thought crossed his mind that the whole place would probably be better off if a wrecking ball just took it out of its misery. Putting his fists on his hip where his slacks met his belt, he arched his neck and waited, looked around and waited some more. He knocked once more. When no one appeared, he backed up and peeked through the window. He could vaguely make out a sofa and a chair sitting by the far wall, but as for people, he saw no one.
This whole rotten day was just another notch to add to his whole rotten life.
It must be the stress. The graying boards were clearly visible under the peeling red paint of the old garage, and Jaxton could see the decrepit green pickup sitting forlornly in the middle of it.
How backward can these people be? He looked around the small expanse, but there was no sign of anyone— only the small radio sitting on the workbench crackling something about a broken heart. Before Jaxton could react to the sound, a wrench flew out from underneath the pickup and hit the cinderblock wall next to his foot with a clang. Instantly he jumped out of the way although another couple of inches and the thing would have nailed him before he saw it coming.
For one, brief moment his head said he should run— just get out of there before the farmer had a chance to turn that wrench on him, but then he thought better of the crazy thought. All he needed was some information. Heart, body, and soul Ami froze the instant she heard the voice. Her mind spun through who it might be and what they might want.
After all she lived more than a mile from the highway. Quickly she looked out from under the metal pickup body, and all she could see was a pair of black slacks ending in a set of shiny black shoes. Gray tank top, denim shorts, and a face that was at once young and heart-stopping, she was the epitome backwoods country, and for one second too long, Jaxton forgot he was supposed to be asking for directions.
At the fender she regarded him as she leaned there. He had slightly wavy dark brown hair clipped and cut just so, a multi-hued blue striped tie over a crisp light blue button down. Still, Ami fought not to notice or to let the intimidation of his presence rattle her. She brushed one strand of hair back off her face. When she looked at him and tilted her head with a half-confused smile, he tried to clarify that statement even as he retrieved his hand.
Ami smiled then, knowing the best defense was a good, strong, full-on offense. How can you tell? He looked down at his shoes but never saw them, and when he looked up again, the only thing his mind could concentrate on was the curve of her face under the wisps of hair trailing down the two braids.
The Romance of Words (4th ed.) by Ernest Weekley
Gorgeous did not do her justice. The pickup would have to wait. Right now, her main priority was figuring out exactly what this guy was doing in her garage, and then getting him out of there as fast as possible. Having tools within reach if he tried anything was a very good idea. For some reason the tone in her voice and the look in her eye made his nerves jump to attention, and the mere thought that this farm girl was getting to him unnerved him further.
He smoothed his tie down as if to emphasize his station in life compared to hers. Her brown braids twisted side-to-side with her head as she worked cleaning and replacing the tools. For his part, Jaxton was left trying desperately to keep his mind away from the long, tanned legs curving below the denim shorts that were making thinking straight increasingly difficult.
However, he felt every syllable of the challenge. Next to her grandfather, Mr. She knew more about Mr. That tone was beginning to grate his nerves as he ripped his gaze from her and glued it to the old pickup. And these people think city people are unfriendly , he thought as the anger rose to his clenched fists. His chest might explode at any second with the rage clawing through him. Who was this person, this girl , to question him anyway?
What had he done that was so wrong? He was just following orders— trying to be the good son. He kicked the wrench and sent it flying back into the cinderblock wall with a clang before stomping out of the garage. She had no right to make him feel like a jerk.
There was nothing to do here anyway. Situated a million miles from nowhere, Rayland was the most boring, backward place on the whole earth, and the second he got the estate in order, he was gone. It took next to nothing for Ami to hear the car roar out of the driveway, and she wondered with easy loathing which one he was. She could still hear them mimicking the townspeople and joking about how backward their grandfather was. Snyder had never been anything but kind to her and her family.
When her grandfather had died, it was Mr. Snyder who tended the trees and kept them alive. It was Mr. Snyder who had encouraged her to take what her grandfather had given her and chase her dream. Snyder who showed up every day for the first month she was here just to check on her. She was sure his visits would have continued, but then the heart attack had almost taken him out two months before. But her assurances had made little difference to him.
He said more than once that she was the only real family he had left and that the others were just waiting for him to die so they could split up the inheritance. Even thinking about it now made her head pound and her heart ache. It was the same way her grandfather had felt, and regardless of how accurate it was, it still made her furious. The two most incredible men in her life, and everyone else thought they were trash. The zero score 'Love' in tennis dates back to the late 18th century and means 'playing for love' or playing for nothing.
Other suggestions claim the use of 'love' as a score derives from its similarity to the French word for egg 'L'oeuf. There is nothing like a good romance novel from obooko if you don't like sport! Apparently the knot is established in many cultures around the world as a way to signify eternal love that is without a beginning or an end.
Make sure your knot is tied well and doesn't come undone! In novels, especially historical romance novels, you will ofen find reference to finding a four-leaf clover, which is believed to bring good luck.
It is also part of an ancient love ritual in some parts of Ireland: We think her green teeth might put him off though. You will often find scary action in our paranormal romance books but did you know that studies have shown that if a man meets a woman in a scary or dangerous environment such as on a shaky bridge, he is more likely to fall in love with her than if he met her in a regular setting like a shop or office.
This goes for women meeting men too. Now where did I see that bridge?
Romance novels may usually refer to engagement and wedding rings being worn on the fourth finger of the left hand. Apparently, someone in ancient times claimed this finger contains the Vena Amoris, or the 'vein of love,' and that it runs straight to the heart.
It's nonsense though because all fingers contain similar veins. Did you know that Antidepressant drugs are likely to have an adverse effect on romantic love? This is because antidepressants increase serotonin levels. High serotonin levels can suppress emotions and restrict obsessive thoughts about the lover. When men fall in love there is more activity in the part of the brain that handles visual stimulation.
Women in love however show greater activity in the area that controls memory. Experts suggest that men form an opinion about a woman visually to determine if she can bear babies. All this factual stuff puts a damper on reading romantic stories though! Romance is an essential element of every thriving and passionate relationship.
Usually relationships start with romance but life has a tendency to interfere with the amount of romance in our lives. I have listed below what I believe to be the 10 biggest misconceptions that people have about Romance:. Romance and Sex are the Same Thing: This could not be any further from the truth. Although romance can lead to sex, a person being romantic just for sex will be completely transparent and usually end up completely different than you imagined.
Between our jobs, hobbies, and all the other things that life throws at us, our relationship with our partner tends to take a back seat to those things we perceive as more important in life. The reality is that the relationship with our partner is the glue that holds everything else in our life together.
Adding Romance to your relationship will not only make it more exciting but also more enjoyable. And only her childhood best friend can keep her alive. Home to help care for his sick mother, Jason is determined his stay is just temporary. Lieutenant Nolan Murphy returns from overseas deployment expecting to find his home and canine companion just as he left them.
Instead, an emergency storm evacuation has gotten his dog caught up in the chaos! Will the once-lonely soldier find a new home—and his forever family—in Sugar Falls?
As their irresistible chemistry reignites, can Felicia find the courage to tell this brooding billionaire everything…including how much she still loves him? Until an encounter with a sexy gardener leads to a red-hot fling that promises to make the wedding preparations more pleasurable. Ashton agrees to keep their sexy secret and wants to continue enjoying their mind-blowing chemistry behind closed bedroom doors.
Since his divorce, Ashton has earned himself a playboy reputation, and when it seems like having Kiara on his arm could be good for business, he proposes a fake relationship until the wedding is over. But when their arrangement goes from a few hours to a few days, will Felicity be left out in the cold this Christmas? But will this chance hookup turn into something more? Or will fate keep their paths from crossing again?
Her plan? Prince Zain, the dangerously seductive owner of the world-famous Desert Oasis Hotel and Spa, is the only person Angelique can turn to. But, this rebellious New Yorker will not be controlled—this is her deal to make. Her proposition is simple.The man who was practically a household name with more women than she cared to count in their many travels.
Her eyes jerked up so quickly, they almost came loose from her body. And with that, she pulled out her notebook and set about choosing the pictures he would have chosen if he was actually choosing them himself.
Lane was now sleeping peacefully in his arms, and the man across the abyss of the seat next to him had long since ceased the dirty looks. Two weeks was too long to be gone from a private medical practice, but the downtime had done him good. Mary got married young, gave birth to two children and she was very happy. Valerie Maarten Goodreads Author.
The farmhouse just beyond the trees looked like it was about a hundred years old as did every other building on the place, and as he killed the engine and looked around, he wondered if anyone even lived here anymore.
Romance is contagious, as time goes on you want to be more and more romantic towards your partner.
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