Romance takes a stroll through the genres.
A collection of Romance Stories by Substack Writers.
Welcome to 🌹Thorny Thursday💗. Romance is in the air, and it has been known to dance across all Genres of Writing. This is the first time I’ve hosted an event, and I hope we find some great stories.
We’ll start with this one by
entitled:
This is chapter four in a new series by the creator of The Mrdreigiau Chronicles. I think it’s worthwhile to the Grael Storyline.
Although E.F. Ortega initially did not consider his Chronicles of The Tale-Keeper a romance, I believe that it is a love story of Creation. Just as no story can start anywhere but the beginning, it’s worth going back to the first chapter.
At heart,
’s stories are romances. Even though they are set in future worlds that he calls dystopian, his characters love each other. In the latest episode, the young couples remember what brought them together.
Even though I don’t know if
would consider stories set on Ferris Island to be romantic, Captain Reyville and Caroline Phelan came to care deeply for each other, and that’s the essence of Romance, even if it’s in a suspense setting.
In
’s words, “This story is true. Only the names have been changed.” It’s a heartwarming story. You’ll love it. If you don’t, then you don’t have a heart.
The ever-talented
gives us the latest episode of her “Rise of Sirius,” wherein Reid and Aphrodite go visit Cleopatra. I’m not gonna tell you what happens. You’ll have to read it for yourself. Trust me, it’s worth it.
The Great purveyor of Gibberesh, the artist known only as
, is set to release the thirteenth letter from Armin Tolor. What will happen? It’s a secret that will be revealed Saturday Morning at 7 am.
The lovely
cast her words upon the aether, and I heard them as a sigh of wind.He missed her. The way she moved through the heather, the hem of her dress skimming the edge of the tall grass, sunbeams gleaming through her hair, each strand flowing in stride, taking her lead. Her eyes echoed the daylight, outpacing the sun herself. The wind loved her almost as much as he did, beckoning her to dance every time she came near. And dance she did. Among the flowers and the butterflies, she danced until the sun approached the horizon. He would stand in awe, a stillness to her wild ways.
When her dancing was spent, she would return here to his arms, her head nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder, arm across his chest. He loved to kiss her. Her wrist, her hair, her forehead, her lips. The air around her smelled sweetly of magnolias and irises. There they would lay, surrendered to each other's embrace. Sometimes, making love under the blanket of stars, entwined together, bringing the universe into their world, if however briefly. Other times, they would just stay frozen in time.
When he awoke, she was gone again. His tears filled their well every morning. His pillow damp. He forced his eyes shut, hoping it would bring her back, even though it would be just for a moment. His agony consumed him, the pain of her departure leaving an empty cavern in his heart, threatening to swallow him whole. Without her, every muscle moving, every breath brought a sword's thrust to the deepest corners of his chest.
But he had to keep moving, he knew that. Staying here would only prolong his suffering. Determined enough to live for her, he made small efforts every day, learning to greet her nightly visits not with sorrow but with bittersweet gratefulness. As the time passed, someone else entered his life. She would never fill the void, for no one could do that, but she eased the pain and showed him a new path forward, taking his hand to guide him.
Soon, the dreams of her had faded, memories remaining, but no longer filled with the anger that once possessed his every thought. And he emerged from the darkness, still caped with her presence. Only now, she became a piece of his armor, strengthening him, drawing her energy into his very soul. Peace had finally come, not in forgetting, but in accepting her into him, carrying her, letting her live through him.
The enchanting
sends us a short story of a witchy storekeeper who chases after the thief who stole a grimoire from her, only to run into a steamy romance.Caliente…oh muy caliente….
In the article, she references an article written by Caroline Furlong, which is a good read in and of itself.
The mysterious
gives us a preview of the continuing romance between Gaiur the Wolfmother and the Jarl’s Son, Marten, in the upcoming chapter of The Jarl’s Son, set to debut Saturday Morning.A smile drew up the corners of Gaiur’s lips. Marten held her tighter now, wordlessly trying to resist wakefulness by clutching her even closer against him. Reaching back, she placed her hand against his neck and rubbed. He groaned, and she felt his lips press into the crown of her head.
“Good sleep?” she asked him.
“Best in years,” he responded, his voice gravelly from his grogginess. “You?”
“Best in years,” she repeated.
They stayed like that for a while longer, with Gaiur holding Marten’s large and calloused paw against her with one hand, while reaching back to rub at his neck with the other. Marten, meanwhile, leaned into her. His nose and lips pressed into her thick and disheveled blue-black hair and soon he was amorously kissing his way down her neck. She didn’t stop him. Instead, she tilted her head slightly to the side and pulled her long hair away to give him easier access. How wonderful those lips felt against her skin!
“Last night was good, neh?” Marten’s voice vibrated into her shoulder as he spoke.
“Yes, it was,” Gaiur murmured in return, leaning into his affections.
“I wonder how the Wolfmother and I should spend our day, then?” he hummed playfully.
A tempting prospect. Gaiur would’ve told him as much, too, had they not been interrupted by a sudden and boisterous roar from Marten’s stomach, one which was so loud that it stopped them both dead in their tracks. For a long moment, they stared at each other, the ghosts of goofy grins lingering upon their lips. Those grins grew in full as Gaiur snorted out a laugh, which was immediately followed by a bellow from Marten. Just like that, they had their answer.
Making it just under the wire,
slid their article about Damsels in distress under the door.While it’s not strictly speaking Romance in nature,
gives a bit of writing advice in his very short piece called:
Thank you for this great roundup, Joseph. Great job!
I love the thumbnail to this one! Great job with the descriptions and what not Joseph! Next time I'll submit my TT addition earlier in the day.