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Billionaires Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Veils Of Secrets

Veils Of Secrets

I was never supposed to be here. Wearing my sister's wedding gown, standing at the altar, and getting married to a man who hardly looked at me. Long ago, Nadia Rivers, the silent daughter of a wealthy family, exchanged her voice for secrets. Now, I'm forced into an arranged marriage with Derick Steele, the icy billionaire who views me as merely a shadow in his flawless, strong existence. Derick doesn't know me. He doesn't know that I am not the submissive, quiet wife he thinks I am. He doesn't know that the silence I live in is a lie I was forced to tell following a tragic event that still affects me to this day. He doesn't know that every look he gives me, so full of unsaid tension but also indifference, makes my world burn. But, when an unidentified blackmailer threatens my life and brings secrets to light, our brittle, cold arrangement starts to fall apart. Derick dismisses the threats with a terrifying voice, "Call me when there's a body." I should be frightened. Instead, I'm enraged. Because I have been concealing secrets of my own. Secrets that might end up destroying us both. What Derick doesn't know is that I've already tangled with the real enemy. The threats I've been faking to make to gauge his lack of interest were only the start. Now, I'm being used as a pawn by someone with nothing to lose and everything to gain. The stakes are higher than ever, and the danger isn't just outside our walls, it's in the shadows of this very house. As Derick's icy exterior transforms into something far more dangerous-something possessive, something protective. I find myself caught in a storm of passion and danger. His touch burns, his whispers break me, and his hidden feelings terrify me more than the threats against my life. But, in a world where love is a weapon and every action we take draws us more into a web of deceit, treachery, and deadly truths, trust is a delicate thing. The past is catching up with both of us, and when it does, it might not just destroy this marriage. It might destroy us. What happens when the silence breaks?
His Penance, My Freedom

His Penance, My Freedom

Two years, Alex. It's been two years. My whisper was dry, lost in the cold, vast living room where I knelt on marble, gripping his expensive trousers. For two years, since his mother' s death, this had been my life, my prison. He blamed me, twisted a lie of grief into his truth: I' d hidden her sickness for his company' s IPO. Every week, a different woman. They wore my robes, used my perfume, slept in our bed. My task: welcome, serve, clean. I swallowed humiliation because my father was sick, his treatments astronomically expensive. Alex Thorne, my husband, was my only hope. But when I begged for money, for my father on his deathbed, Alex sneered, "Let him die." "It's what he deserves for having a daughter like you." Then the hospital called: My father was gone. He took his own life, leaving a note, not wanting to be a burden. I was on my knees, begging for a life already lost. "Problem solved," Alex chirped to his current paramour, tossing my phone aside. My world shattered. He was a monster who savored my pain. Something inside me snapped. The part that endured, that hoped, broke. "No," I said, rising on shaky legs. "I want a divorce, Alex." He laughed, demanding I apologize to his mistress, then commanded me to clean toilets with a toothbrush. He was mocking me. Humiliating me. Using my deepest wounds as his amusement. But as I knelt once more, a single thought crystallised: I wouldn't just leave him. I would erase him. And when he then shoved me, triggering a terrifying pain and a warm, wet sensation, I knew my silent revolution had just begun. He might have killed my father and our unborn child, but he had just awakened the storm within me.
His Unwanted Bride: The Secret Genius Commander

His Unwanted Bride: The Secret Genius Commander

Corey Hendrix was the family's dirty secret, a forgotten stepdaughter deliberately hidden away in rural Montana for twenty years. But today, her stepfather Isham summoned her to his study and slid a marriage contract across the desk. He was forcing her to marry Lucas Fitzgerald—a powerful billionaire rumored to be paralyzed from the waist down—simply so her favored stepsister Brandi wouldn't have to waste her life on a "cripple." "If you refuse, you'll be on the street before dinner. Let's see how long you last." Isham threatened her with cold disdain, treating her like a worthless commodity to be traded for a corporate alliance. Her stepsister Brandi kicked her door open just to mock her, calling her a pathetic country bumpkin. They even used Corey's tragically deceased mother as emotional blackmail, entirely confident in their control, secretly hiding the fact that Isham had embezzled the five-million-dollar trust fund her mother left behind. The entire Copeland family looked down on her, convinced she was just a timid, helpless outcast who had no choice but to accept this deeply unfair fate. They had no idea that the moment Corey walked out of that study, her submissive mask dissolved. Locking her bedroom door, she pulled out an encrypted, military-grade laptop and logged in under her real title: Commander "Argent" of the BTO special ops. This forced marriage wasn't a cage, but her perfect cover to infiltrate New York's elite and finally avenge her mother's murder.
My Coldhearted Ex-Husband Demands A Remarriage

My Coldhearted Ex-Husband Demands A Remarriage

Erika was a disgraced ex-wife, struggling to survive in a freezing Brooklyn slum to raise her five-year-old son. But her billionaire ex-husband, Doyle Morgan, wasn't done destroying her. He orchestrated a cruel trap, forcing her to deliver a custom sapphire brooch to his new mistress, just to watch her get humiliated and severely burned by scalding coffee. When Erika fought back and refused to beg, Doyle's punishment was swift. He demoted her to scrubbing executive toilets with raw, bleeding hands. Starved, exhausted, and pushed to the absolute brink of organ failure, she finally collapsed lifelessly in front of him in Central Park. For five years, she had endured his relentless torment and the world's mockery just to keep her child safe. Doyle despised her, convinced her son was the filthy proof of her cheating with another man. He didn't know the boy was actually the child of his deceased older brother, conceived in a dark, drugged hotel room. Why couldn't he just leave them alone to suffer in peace? But when Erika woke up in the VIP hospital ward, the nightmare took a terrifying turn. Doyle pinned her weak wrists to the mattress, his eyes burning with a dark, possessive obsession. He had figured out the truth about the boy's bloodline. "He's a Morgan. He has my family's blood in his veins, and I will not allow my nephew to be raised in a slum. If you can't care for him, I will. From this moment on, you and that boy belong to me. And you are never leaving my sight again."