Read Free Romance Stories Online

FREE ROMANCE STORIES BELOW ANNOUNCEMENT

Read-a-romance.com officially launched September 1, 08.   For the time being, we hope to add one free online romance story every week, so it’ll take us a while to populate the site with a variety of romantic reads.  However, our ultimate goal is to provide two or three free stories a week.

We’re actively seeking stories from a variety of romance genres, so whether you read western, historical, contemporary, young adult and so forth, we hope to have something here for you to read soon.

Please note this is an all ages site, so our free romance stories will be appropriate for even the youngest of readers.

Thanks for visiting.  Please come back!

L-J Greene

After a two hour plane ride, the last thing I wanted to do was stand in line waiting for a rental car. I tapped my foot and peered around the man in front of me. How long could it take one person to rent a car?

I adjusted my super size sunglasses and tried to determine if I should just take them off. It didn’t seem as if anyone was going to go berserk trying to get my autograph. I reached up to fold them off my face, and noticed a couple standing beside the counter staring at me, and doing a bad job of trying to pretend they weren’t.

“Why would Casey Brand be renting a car here?” the man whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear.

I heard his companion’s muffled reply, but I ignored both of them.

The glasses stayed on. Not only did I not want to confirm their suspicion about who I am, but my upper cheek and eye were a rainbow of yellow, green and purple. It wasn’t pretty.

I play police Detective Casey Brand on the popular Hard Streets TV show, filmed in New York City. I’m not a lead character, but I had enough speaking parts to be recognized quite often. Last week, on the way to work, I was mugged, requiring stitches and the assistance of a real police detective, who bore an uncanny resemblance to my ex-husband. I asked for some time off, and was headed home to regroup.

I loved acting, but at thirty-five I wasn’t a rousing success, and at this stage probably never would be. I missed the quiet of my home town. I was entering the “what if” stage of life.

I finally got my turn at the rental counter, and took the keys from the rental agent, who luckily didn’t recognize me. I drove the hour home to Fairmount, where I wouldn’t be treated with any special attention. They expected success from their natives. Like the legendary movie star, James Dean, and Garfield cartoonist Jim Davis, to name a couple.

I pulled into my parents’ driveway. They were away, so I would have the place to myself. I took my suitcase into my childhood bedroom, which still looked like a shrine to Barbie and friends. Grabbing a Coke from the kitchen, I settled into my father’s favorite chair, and picked up the News-Sun. “Police Looking For Suspect In Missing James Dean Headstone” screamed the headline.

I thought of my great-aunt Felicity, still living in the house she grew up in. She had gone to high school with James Dean, and for most of high school they had dated. He took her to the prom, so Aunt Felicity is sort of a celebrity-by-association. She still has his high school ring and sweater with his letter for basketball on it.

She claims she gave birth to his child back in 1948, when she was seventeen. But even James Dean’s cousin, who still lives nearby, can’t back her story up. Since no one has ever seen this child, or heard from it, the family takes it with a grain of salt.

Every September 30th, the anniversary of his death, Aunt Felicity goes to Jimmy’s grave and places flowers on it.

I put the paper down, took the last swallow of Coke, and walked the few blocks to her house.

She was sitting on her porch, gently rocking in her swing, a pitcher of lemonade beside her. “Jane! You’re home. Good Lord child, what happened to your face? Part of it’s blue and yellow. Or is that green?” She patted the space beside her. “Tell me.”

“What you need is a good self-defense class,” she commented, when I told her about being mugged. “You should take lessons from your Kevin Brogan. He teaches women how to defend themselves. I took his class myself.”

Kevin Brogan, my ex-husband. We had gotten married right after we turned eighteen. It had lasted until I graduated with a bachelor’s degree in English and Drama, and then left him on his own to fight crime in Fairmount, while I fled to the Big Apple in search of fame and fortune. Back then it seemed like the right decision. Did I want to see him again? No. I’d managed to avoid him every time I visited. Well, maybe just saying hi wouldn’t be so bad.

“Is he married?” I asked, realizing I wasn’t sure I wanted to know

“Jimmy? No, he never got married.” My aunt dabbed at her eyes.

“No, I mean Kevin.”

“You still have a thing for him, don’t you?” My aunt’s blue eyes twinkled. “No, he isn’t married. I think he still has a thing for you, too. Like me and James Byron Dean.  I could never marry anyone but him. Remember him in Giant?”  Her eyes grew dreamy.

“I remember, Aunt Felicity,” I answered.  Thanks to her, I knew the entire dialogue from Giant and  East of Eden. Maybe that’s why I was bitten by the acting bug.

“I see Jimmy’s headstone is missing. Are you okay? The whole town must be upset.”

She waved a hand at me. “Oh, it’ll show up. It’s been taken before. Kevin’s at the Y.  You should look into his class.  A woman can’t be too careful. He’s good. The women love him. He’s got more of them than he can handle.”

I bet he does, I thought. I kissed my aunt goodbye, promising to come back later to make dinner for both of us, and left her with her memories of James Dean.

I planned to drive home, take a bath, put on some of my father’s Dean Martin records, and relax before I had to do shopping. The car I was driving had other ideas. Five minutes later, I found myself in the YMCA parking lot. My legs trembled as I walked up to the front desk.

“I’m looking for Kevin Brogan,” I told the receptionist.

“You’re lucky. He’s in the middle of a class now in the gym annex. I’m the only one here and I can’t leave the desk. Can you find it yourself?”

I assured her I could.

Kevin was in front of a room of about thirty women. They were so focused on him, they didn’t even notice me until Kevin did, about thirty seconds later.

“Take a five-minute break, ladies.” He trotted over to me, and the women started whispering. A couple of them waved to me. I waved back.

“Jane. My God, I thought I was seeing things. How are you? What on earth happened?” He gently touched the side of my cheek, and I leaned into his hand. The whispering behind him increased.

His voice hadn’t changed. Neither had the shiny dark brown hair—all of which he still had—and almost black eyes with their impossibly long lashes. His body was even more buff than it had been when we were together. I guess police work agreed with him.

I swallowed. “Hi, Kevin. I was mugged. Aunt Felicity suggested I look into self-defense.”

“The class has been going on for about three weeks already, but I can fit you in. It would have to be privately, though. As you can see, I can’t squeeze another body in here.”

“That would be okay. I’m only going to be here for a week or so.  Can I just take a couple of lessons?”  I couldn’t look away from the way his black t-shirt molded to his chest. I had the urge to lay my head against it.  I could see why women flocked to him.

“Sure. I’ll call you tonight. Where are you staying?”

“At my parents’. 674-”

“-1811,” Kevin finished for me. “I used to call you every night in our junior and senior year in high school. Remember?” His hand was caressing my cheek.

I did. I couldn’t believe he still remembered the number. I smiled all the way back to my car, clutching the piece of paper on which he had written his number as if it were the Holy Grail, or some such thing.  I stopped at Joe’s IGA, the only grocery store in town, and picked up items for dinner.

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