Category Archives: Romance

Signs of Love

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Elle A Rose

Chantel heard a new kid was starting today. In the small mundane town, she lived in her entire life, anything outside of the everyday norm was exciting news. Entering her second period class, she assumed the tall muscular male who stood next to the teacher’s desk was in fact the new kid. She wondered for a moment why Lynn, the sign language interpreter who typically worked with her older brother, Eddie, was also standing at the desk. When Lynn and Mr. Weston both frantically waved her over, she had a feeling she was about to find out.

“Oh, good, I’m glad you’re here.” Lynn exclaimed.

Stress was written all over her face. As Lynn spoke, she also used sign language. In an instant, Chantel understood what was wrong.

“Good morning, Lynn,” she signed back and looked to her new classmate. She found a beautiful set of hazel brown eyes staring back at her.

“Chantel, there seems to have been some confusion. This is Oliver Barton, the newest member of the student body,” Mr. Weston said. While he spoke, Lynn, in her agitated state translated. “The issue,” Mr. Weston continued, “is they’ve assigned Lynn as his interpreter.

“Which is going to leave Eddie without a translator,” Lynn cut in to say.

Chantel smiled and glanced back at Oliver.

“Hey,” she signed. “It’s nice to meet you.”

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Claire and Ronan – A Rook’s Mill Romance

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The wind was kicking up something fierce as Claire Wallis grabbed the last of the sheets from the clothesline. Fat droplets of rain were beginning to fall as she rushed for the door of the old Victorian that she’d turned into a bed and breakfast.

Once inside, Claire stepped into the sitting room, grateful to find it empty. Sometimes, guests would gather there, and she would have felt obligated to sit down for a chat. She quickly folded the sheets, stopping a few times to bury her nose in the folds to breathe in the scent of fresh air. There wasn’t much that could rival the smell of it, honestly. Well, maybe freshly baked bread could give it a run for its money, she supposed.

Out in the foyer, the staircase creaked, and, anticipating one of her guests to appear, Claire’s mouth settled into a welcoming smile as she turned to the doorway. A few moments passed, but no one appeared. She moved over to the doorway and peered around the thick mahogany casing. The foyer was empty.

A sudden, cold draft made Claire rub her arms briskly as she grabbed up the stack of laundry and moved down the hall to the storage room. She put the sheets on the shelves, trying not to allow her thoughts to settle on her fears. She was being ridiculous, is what she was being, she decided. There was no such thing as ghosts, even in an old Victorian that had had a reputation of being haunted.

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Isabella and Will – A Rook’s Mill Romance

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“Izzy, you need to come take a look at this.”

Isabella James, or, Izzy, as she was known to her students, groaned as she stood up to follow Darren. She’d been wedged between the side of a barn and a tree right next to it for the better part of two hours, carefully unearthing a rock that featured a petroglyph carved into it.

Darren led her to the main excavation site, where her crew’s voices were raised in excitement as they stood in a huddle, all looking down at the ground.

“Move aside, you fools,” Darren exclaimed, “The boss lady has arrived.”

Izzy walked down the ramp into the excavation site as her group moved aside for her. They’d been working almost nonstop ever since the owner of this farm had contacted her after they had discovered a strange looking drawing on a rock out in the middle of a field they had been clearing.

“It’s clearly a wall, Iz,” Lara Bruno, her field assistant enthused, “You can see it stretches that way, and then makes a turn down there.”

Izzy felt a little faint all of a sudden, and she knew it wasn’t the hot summer sun, either. This was big. So, so big. Bigger than anything she’d ever dreamed that she’d be a part of, after taking the teaching job at tiny little Haverston College, in the small town of Rook’s Mill, Kansas.

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A romantic short story – Georgie and Milo

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Every morning like clockwork, Georgie Bradford woke up at 6 a.m., alone, in her queen size bed. She would lay still in her solitude, watching the dust motes floating in the light that streamed through the blinds at the windows.

When she finally got out of bed, there was no urgency to her movements. She lived alone, and had since her late husband, Glenn, had passed away. It had been her choice; her daughter, Victoria, had offered Georgie a home in Massachusetts with her and her husband, Sam, and their two children, Ivy and Merritt, but she had declined. This was her home, the one that she and Glenn had bought when they had been young and newly married, with stars in their eyes and dreams in their heads.

She took a shower, then applied plenty of moisturizer and a touch of makeup to her wrinkled face. She often wondered why she bothered, since no one would see it, but she knew it was force of habit. She’d never been vain, but she liked to look presentable, just in case.

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French Kiss – A romantic short story

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“Holy shit, Mom, that was close!”

“Adam, what did I say about cussing,” Meredith Greene took her eyes off the wheel to stare daggers at her fourteen year old son, “If you can’t keep it clean …”

“Then keep it quiet,” Adam rolled his eyes, “But, it’s not my fault that you can’t drive.”

“I am driving just fine,” Meredith snapped, as she returned her eyes to the single lane road that was bordered by enormous hedgerows on both sides, “And it’s easy for you to talk, mister, considering that you can’t even drive.”

Adam snorted, “I bet I could drive better than you, though.”

Meredith clenched her hands around the steering wheel and silently counted to ten, which was something she resorted to more and more frequently these days. She was seriously questioning her sanity at thinking this trip back to France was going to be idyllic, especially with a teenager in tow.

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Yes, Chef – A short story about finding love in a hotel kitchen

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The noise was the first thing that struck Landry Merriman as she stood just inside the swinging kitchen doors of the Chessman Hotel. It was a veritable wall of sound, with pots and pans clattering, oven doors slamming, dishwashers humming, and people yelling to be heard over all of it.

“As you can see,” Mrs. Myers said, rather loudly, “It’s a very lively place,” she slipped out into the relative quiet of the sumptuously carpeted hallway outside the kitchen, “Why don’t we finish the interview in my office, Ms. Merriman.”

Landry reminded herself to wipe the judgmental look from her face as she followed the woman down the hall and into a small, tidy room. She had never, ever seen such a horribly run professional kitchen in her career, but it wouldn’t do to be critical, until she had the job, at any rate.

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