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Billionaires Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Eighty days with the Billionaire

Eighty days with the Billionaire

When William Edwards proposed, Adera thought her dreams had finally come true. After years of living in the shadow of her twin sister, she was going to have something uniquely hers. But the night before her wedding, Adera discovered her fiancé entangled with her twin, professing his love and plans to abandon her. Heartbroken and bitter, Adera drowned her sorrows at a club and woke up in a stranger's bed on what was supposed to be her wedding day. Now, her scandalous photos are all over the internet, and her ex-fiancé is preparing to marry her sister. Desperate and humiliated, Adera stands on a bridge, contemplating ending her life. Just then, a Rolls Royce pulls up, and a handsome stranger with mesmerizing emerald eyes steps out. "I know you think your life is over, but I need a bride for my wedding today," the deep baritone had her mind spiralling for a second until she processed his outrageous request. "Have you lost your mind?" She snapped. "You must be the only man in town who doesn't know about my reputation as a whore. Are you trying to mock me?" Although he felt a strange ache in his heart for her, desperation won over. "Darling, I do not care about your reputation. I just need you to get in a white dress and pretend to love me. I'm ready to pay any amount you want." Can Adera take a leap of faith with this mysterious man? Will pretending to love him offer her a chance at redemption, or plunge her into even deeper scandal? Could there possibly be secrets behind those captivating emerald eyes?
The Billionaire's Ex-Husband: Now Unreachable

The Billionaire's Ex-Husband: Now Unreachable

My Manhattan penthouse, a testament to my late father-in-law Michael Rossi's empire, felt like a gilded cage. As Michael' s chosen "legacy guardian," I was loyal, a steady presence. But to his daughter, my wife Isabella, I was just background noise, an obstacle to her obsession: rockstar Jules Vance. One day, she swept in, reeking of expensive perfume, ready to jettison for Austin and Jules. I handed her a stack of company papers, including a marital separation agreement Marc and I had subtly slipped in. Without a glance, she scribbled her name, dismissing our anniversary, her father's legacy, and me. Her heels clicked away, the door slamming shut, sealing my fate. She hadn't even noticed the separation. I was bound by a promise to a dead man, meant to protect a woman who saw me as a ghost, a joke to her and her flamboyant lover. Her casual cruelty and constant dismissal had built an insurmountable wall. Years of emotional suffocation, of being the quiet anchor to a woman who resented stability, finally took their toll. How could a marriage, painstakingly built by her visionary father, a man who saw me as a trusted son, be dissolved with such a careless flick of a pen? Her indifference was a brutal symbol of her utter disregard. I was simply exhausted. This time, her ignorance was my liberation. With her signature on that separation agreement, the decision was unequivocally made. I packed a single duffel bag, climbed into my old pickup truck, and drove north. Leaving the glittering city, the endless drama, and the woman who didn't want it, irrevocably behind. My new life had finally begun.