Fantasy Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Love's Shadow: A Bitter End
I had been dead for a year, my spirit tethered to my daughter, Emma, watching over her in the orphanage. Then, the director called my ex-husband, Elroy, for Emma' s urgent medical treatment, but he coldly refused, telling her, "Then let her die. It would be a convenience. She can go join her short-lived mother." A week later, Emma died at five years old, because her father wouldn' t spare the money to save her. Days later, Elroy arrived at the orphanage, believing I had faked Emma' s death to manipulate him. He pulled back the sheet covering her small body, sneering, "Very realistic. A good prop." He then picked up our daughter' s body, carried her outside, and tossed her into a dumpster, scattering raw meat around it, taunting, "Let's see how long this prop lasts when the stray dogs find it." My spirit screamed, but I was powerless as dogs tore at her. He believed I was alive, orchestrating a sick game, but I was a ghost, a silent, screaming witness to his monstrous cruelty. Why did he hate us so much? Then, I saw him with Ivonne, his childhood sweetheart, heavily pregnant, and the horrifying truth clicked: he had a new family, and he wanted Emma' s heart for his new daughter./0/83823/coverorgin.jpg?v=46f917d840a0970de5a8bb6d7cdd28d2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Impostor Daughter
I am Echo, born of forgotten children's whispers, and for centuries, I've seen only the transactional nature of human love. A chance at freedom from Purgatory appeared: assume the form of five-year-old Lily for three days. If her brother or mother truly recognized me, I could stay, finally knowing what true connection felt like. But stepping into the vibrant human world as Lily, I became an immediate pawn. Her wealthy brother, Ethan, saw not his sister, but a medical solution-a bone marrow donor for his "real sunflower." He locked me away, labeling me "the donor" and "secured," completely devoid of familial affection. Later, her politically calculating mother, Katherine, eyed me with suspicion, dismissing me as a cruel stunt arranged by her rivals. My every attempt to rekindle their memories-a shared friendship bracelet, a secret four-leaf clover-was met with cold accusations. I was imprisoned, treated as a tool, and nearly forced into a painful medical procedure. During a terrifying earthquake, Ethan abandoned me without a glance; my mother violently shoved me away, convinced I was a political weapon. How could they know all Lily's secrets, her cherished tokens, yet gaze through me as if I were nothing more than an empty shell? The love I craved, the recognition I desperately pursued, seemed to vanish the moment it flickered. My cynicism, once a shield, became a crushing weight; they recognized the symbols, but utterly failed to see the soul. At the stroke of midnight, as my test hung on a thread of their persistent doubt, the true Lily' s spirit appeared. And in that instant, without a single question or a need for proof, Ethan and Katherine recognized her, unconditionally. This pure, undeniable love, transcending physical form, shattered my entire understanding of existence. Now, faced with this profound truth and an unimaginable choice, my story-and theirs-was destined for a miraculous, unforeseen path./0/85121/coverorgin.jpg?v=4c548d741d2502fdb2962c0e4205b3d0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Lucifer's Captive Bride
Selene was born out of a forgotten deal with the devil. The fourth child promised to Lucifer by desperate parents-and the only one who survived the tragic accident meant to claim her. Now an adult, she's dragged into a lavish mansion where shadows whisper, secrets burn, and Lucifer, the devil himself, insists she belongs to him. He is cold, commanding, seductive-and cursed with obsession. Selene wants answers, but every truth leads to another lie: demons calling her queen, a mysterious pregnancy, and a fate intertwined with darkness. As her powers awaken, she must face the unthinkable: she's not human. But what happens when the devil starts to care? When love becomes a threat, and desire could destroy them both? Is she Lucifer's salvation... or his greatest downfall?/0/84148/coverorgin.jpg?v=3ae21e4fb3444c5e52a8347ad450e5de&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Beyond the Grave: My Ex-Husband's Ruin
Three years after my death, my music mogul husband, Andrew Scott, sued my estate. His claim? That the bone marrow I donated to his starlet lover, Molly Clarkson, was failing her, causing her leukemia to relapse. I' m a ghost, tied to him, forced to watch him rage. He held a press conference, signing over my life' s work-my entire unreleased song catalog-to Molly, calling it a "gift." When that stunt didn' t work, he stormed to my family' s modest home, accusing me of faking my death, convinced I was just hiding. He dismissed my younger sister, Stella' s, pleas that I was dead, then brutally attacked my beloved three-legged terrier, Banjo, as a twisted warning. He boasted about financially bailing out my family, twisting the knife. But Andrew didn' t know the whole truth. I died from complications after the bone marrow procedure, critically weakened. I had a rare genetic condition, Fanconi anemia, which made the donation incredibly high-risk. The doctors Molly paid never told him, and they gave me a dangerously low dose of anesthesia, leaving me paralyzed but conscious, feeling every agonizing drill into my bones. I died less than two weeks later, while he celebrated Molly' s "remission" in Aspen. He believed the falsified hospital records saying I was discharged in stable condition, refusing to accept I was gone. Now, my spirit screamed as Andrew vowed to find me, threatening my family with unspeakable violence unless I reappeared. My grave was empty. My brother, Matthew, will bring me home./0/83825/coverorgin.jpg?v=f70338d6e0989f555916f7008ec422f8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When the Underdog Rises: Ash's Awakening
The last thing I saw was Maverick' s powerful hooves, descending on me. I was back, gasping, the thick scent of magnolias filling my lungs at the Claiming Ceremony – the day my life fell apart. Maverick, the champion I had raised from a foal, trotted straight to Charlotte, nuzzling her hand in a blatant act of public rejection. My father, Richard, placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip tight, announcing, "Charlotte has a special connection. You're the older sister, let her have him. It' s for the good of the family's reputation." The jockey I' d helped sneered, "A champion horse needs a champion rider." Charlotte's friends chimed in with fake sympathy, insisting I was never strong enough, that I would have held him back. The humiliation was a physical weight, but this time, in my second chance, I felt only a cold resolve. My father pushed, trying to salvage his scheme, offering me the sickly, seemingly worthless colt, Ash, in exchange. Everyone pitied the broken girl being cast aside, agreeing I was walking away empty-handed. But kneeling beside Ash, I felt a faint, familiar warmth, a deep connection confirming what I suspected: he was my mother' s true legacy, the horse she had left for me. Charlotte, arrogant in her victory, declared, "Let' s perform the bonding ritual now, so everyone can see the true bond between a rider and her horse." I stood, a slow smile spreading across my face. "I agree."/1/109781/coverorgin.jpg?v=3199440f4140b865fe36ff8912c00ece&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Shapeshifter Mate:Falling for My Cursed Superior
His second name is Death. Anyone who tries to get too close to him loses their life. He was cursed with the blood of his dead brother and till he finds the killer of his brother, he's forever bound with the curse. He's avoided like a plague, but he even loves it that way. He's so addicted to solitude and being alone. He is a bloody supernatural being, an unusual wizard. The only child born under Three Red Stars on a gloomy night 25 years ago. The demons fret at the smell of his scent, and evils flee. He has no shadow even in the dark. He is soulless-Orion Alaric, that's his name. The son of Duran Alaric, who owns Mystic Institute, a school for supernatural beings, located deep in the fogs of Mount Delos. Mystic Institute takes in over five hundred disciples yearly, and of the five hundred, Orion was determined to find his brother's killer that year, so he joined the school as a superior. There he sat on his throne, and as expected, she came. Samara Hercules, a whitehead witch who's the exact opposite of everyone around him. Unexpectedly she is not the one he's hunting for, but her white hair reminds him of the killer each time he sets eyes on her and that builds a toxic hatred in him for Samara. He was even ready to get rid of her so he wouldn't have to see her face anymore. Let's stop here.... Now are you ready to jump into the book and see how things go? Will Samara ever escape him and his tortures Will romance ever bloom between these two? Will his curse ever get lifted? Will the real killer ever show up? And are you in for the steamy romance, fights, jealousy, betrayal, and series of dramas between the supernaturals? Demons and dark forces? Join this rollercoaster ride, don't miss out./0/58843/coverorgin.jpg?v=d8f1fdd995d6e9920d56ad70c0e9d487&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Moonlit Captive
BLURB : "From a cold blooded killer to a fighter for love." This romantic tale of two strangers whose fates are intertwined. It's the story of Alexander Volstov otherwise known as Xavier, is a werewolf-assassin for the Al Capone mafia, the most notorious crime syndicate in the city. One day, he is hired by the godfather to kidnap a human girl named Evangeline. Xavier accepts this duty in good faith and expects this to be a normal routine mission. However, not everything goes as planned. Evangeline, in question, turns out to be Xavier's fated mate but he doesn't accept this reality. Each time he tries to kill her, he finds himself constantly attracted to her and she too. Xavier must face the truth but not at the cost of his loyalty and love. Will he be able to kill Eva or will this couple be able to love each other, a love that is a deadly curse?/0/84152/coverorgin.jpg?v=5fc1addcbb633c16b1c6dcb5629399fb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Second Life, New Rules
My first life ended with the smell of cheap whiskey, a throbbing leg, and the bitter irony of my ex-wife' s golden boy getting the scholarship that should have been mine. I died alone, broke, and knowing I was a failure in the eyes of my kids and the woman I' d sacrificed everything for. Then, I woke up. The sun was hot on my face, the air thick with popcorn, and I was nineteen again, in my football uniform, standing on the side of the road. It was the homecoming parade, the exact moment my life had been destroyed. I saw Sabrina Johns, the town' s golden girl, laughing on the wobbly float. In my past life, I' d heroically saved her from that collapsing monstrosity, letting it crush my leg and shatter my future. That act of self-sacrifice led to a lifetime of misery, a marriage fueled by her guilt and my ruined dreams. She' d always despised me, painting me as a cripple who trapped her. To my dying breath, I thought saving her was the beginning of our tragic story. I never knew my future was already stolen, my dreams already dead, long before the float ever fell. Did my sacrifice even matter? What twisted game was this? This time, as the float lurched and the giant hornet head tilted, I didn't move forward. I stepped back. I was back, and this time, things would be different./0/85451/coverorgin.jpg?v=2ce9d0c0593660256f0119e75c923611&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Cold Mother, His Bloody Betrayal
The first gunshot in the library deafened me to everything but my brother Ethan' s jolt and the dark red staining his white t-shirt. He looked at me, mouth open, no sound. He slumped. My body moved before my brain could. I turned and ran. I didn' t help him, didn' t scream his name. I just ran, leaving him there. Because I had done this before. In my last life, I' d called our neurosurgeon mother, Olivia. "Mom, Ethan's been shot!" I' d sobbed. Her reply, cold: "Stop being so dramatic, Chloe. I' m busy getting my nails done with Ashley." Ashley, our adopted sister, was her perfect princess. Ethan and I were afterthoughts. She hung up. Ethan bled out waiting for a mother who thought he was a lie. At the hospital, she arrived, nails perfectly pink. When he was pronounced dead, her world shattered. She lunged at me, screaming. "You did this! You just watched him die! You were jealous!" She shoved me down the hospital staircase. My head hit the marble floor. I died there, just like Ethan. But then I was back, in the library, the nightmare starting again. This time, I knew. Trying to save Ethan would only lead to my own death, blamed, hated, destroyed by a family that was never truly mine. My parents were incapable of love for their biological children, consumed by Ashley. So, for the first time, I chose me. I ran, leaving them and that broken life behind. Let them live with their choices. I wouldn't be their scapegoat. This time, I' d be a spectator. But when they called, crying about Ethan, I knew what I had to do. Not for them, but to reveal their monstrous truth. Heading to the hospital, I wasn't a grieving sister. I was an executioner, ready to make sure everyone saw the final act./0/84154/coverorgin.jpg?v=99e1f1897a322da7dec9c8d074f8dc53&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Family Betrayal to Billion-Dollar Empress
The familiar smell of my mother's overcooked pot roast usually meant another forced family dinner, but this time, it was a chilling portal back in time. The last thing I remembered was bleeding out in a hospital, my baby gone, my life over-all thanks to the woman now smiling sweetly at my brother: Sabrina. She murdered my child. This was the day Brian first brought her home. In my past life, this was the beginning of my end, a slow poisoning of my company, my finances, and eventually, my very existence. My mother' s false concern, Brian' s entitled smugness, Sabrina' s cloying sweetness – every interaction was a fresh wound, knowing what they would do. As they pressured me to hire Sabrina for a fake VP job, my past self would have hesitated, tried to be polite, and lost everything. But not this time. The bitter injustice of my previous life, the unimaginable pain of losing my child and my future, burned within me. Why did I ever let them walk all over me? Why did I allow them to destroy everything I built? This wasn't a warning. This was a second chance. I had been given a new beginning, and my decision was clear. I put down my fork, looked each one of them in the eye, and the word cut through the air, cold and definitive: "No."/0/70528/coverorgin.jpg?v=34be29e13dd3603f2158906c4cb08de4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
THE AWAKENING HEIR AND THE WHITE HAIRED WITCH
Edward Collins, heir to a powerful billionaire family in Barcelona, has always lived a life of wealth and privilege. But everything changes one night when he begins to experience strange, unexplainable transformations. One fateful evening, he gazes into a mirror and is horrified to see horns sprouting from his forehead, fangs in place of teeth, claws replacing his fingers, and his once-brown eyes glowing an unnatural blue. Terrified and confused, Edward collapses, only to awaken to a message that will turn his world upside down. It reveals a hidden reality of supernatural beings, and a destiny he never could have imagined. As he grapples with this newfound world, his friend Liam unveils a secret institute of supernatural humans and introduces him to an institute where those with powers learn to control their abilities. At the institute, Edward meets Marbel, a mysterious white-haired witch. Unbeknownst to them, their past lives are intertwined in ways neither can yet understand. As their connection deepens, the truth of their shared history begins to surface, unraveling secrets that will change their lives-and the world-forever./0/86753/coverorgin.jpg?v=cb5b0550e0e626864a81ed2180231eb3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Kidney He Demanded, My Life
Three years after my supposed death, my CEO ex-husband, Ethan Hayes, served me with a legal notice. He claimed the kidney I had donated to his new fiancée, Olivia Reed, was defective. It was absurd because I was already a ghost, tethered to him, watching him demand my reappearance. To force me out of hiding, he publicly announced he was transferring twenty percent of his company shares to Olivia. When weeks passed with no response, his frustration turned to cold fury. He drove to my childhood home, convinced I was playing games. My sister, Chloe, devastated, told him I had died two years ago. Ethan scoffed, calling it another one of my "desperate plays for attention." He remembered freezing my credit cards and cutting me off for supposedly assaulting Olivia. He claimed he was willing to "forgive" me if I took "responsibility." My older brother, Liam, appeared, asserting the money Ethan gave our family was the price I paid. My spirit twisted, reliving the horror: I had only one kidney, a secret Olivia exploited, knowing a single kidney transplant was a death sentence for me. I suffered through the memory of the scalpel, the searing pain, the infection that took my life alone in a sterile room while Ethan celebrated with Olivia. My family screamed at him to check my death certificate, but Ethan, blind to the truth, said the hospital confirmed my discharge. He believed the lies Olivia paid them to tell. His rage escalated. He unleashed dogs on my family. My beloved Buster, old and frail, was torn apart before my spectral eyes. Ethan, oblivious to my presence, then watched a triumph on his face, chillingly stating that if I didn't show up in three days, my family would suffer the same fate. Later, Olivia, playing the victim, whispered that her body was rejecting "her" kidney, lamenting "Maybe… maybe if Ava would just give me her other one…" . Ethan, with casual cruelty, told her not to worry, promising an artificial kidney. My death certificate, anonymously delivered, forced him to confront a truth he refused to accept. He scoffed, claiming it was a fake. But as proof piled up, culminating in reports from the crematorium, his denial morphed into a terrifying obsession. He went to my grave, still convinced it was an elaborate deception. "Dig it up," he commanded. The urn was empty. Of course it was, my brother would never leave me there. He returned to my family' s house, where Olivia was waiting, portraying a frail victim. My spirit froze as I saw the charm I had prayed over and climbed a sacred mountain for, the charm meant to protect him, now around her neck. He smashed the empty urn, demanding, "Where is she?" Liam, grief-stricken, attacked him. A crystal photo frame toppled, revealing my smiling picture, staining it with Ethan' s blood as he frantically clutched the broken glass. He finally questioned, "Is she really dead?" Weeks later, the truth emerged; the million-dollar compensation for my kidney was never transferred to my account. It went to Olivia, and a portion was used to pay the doctors who performed my surgery. With that, and the revelation that I was born with only one kidney, Ethan had nowhere left to hide from the devastating facts. His mind fractured. He lashed out, cutting Olivia, believing he was retrieving "my" kidney. Mark, his assistant, struck him down to save Olivia. Ethan, committed to a psychiatric hospital, descended into madness, still hallucinating my presence. My spirit, tethered to him, watched his horrific unraveling. Months later, my brother Liam, in a dream, finally heard my silent plea: "You need to get my kidney back. The one Ethan has. My body isn' t complete. I can' t move on until it is." He found it under Ethan's mattress, preserved in formaldehyde: "My Beloved Ava" etched on the jar. Liam buried it at my grave, then, with Chloe, scattered my ashes over Golden Sands Beach, my favorite place. As my spirit lifted, finally free, the news came: Ethan had died from a brain hemorrhage. Liam, embodying my legacy, transformed Ethan's manor into the "Ava Miller Sanctuary" and "Ava Miller Free Counseling Center." This is my story of betrayal, sacrifice, and a final, bittersweet liberation./0/82861/coverorgin.jpg?v=92322cc02a94fa6c37d7253fe91f3fa3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Son of Whisperwind
Our baby boy was gone, a tiny knitted cap all that remained. Seven months, and we nearly made it. But before I could even properly grieve, my wife, Izzy, obsessed over her ex, Julian. She' d already made the ultimate sacrifice for him: our son, a victim of a desperate, experimental "cure." Julian arrived like a conquering hero, smirking, ready to exploit our ancient, sacred land, Whisperwind Hollow, for his "wellness retreat." My mother, the Keeper of the Hollow, tried to warn them, and for that, she collapsed to Julian's taunts. Izzy, blinded by devotion, dismissed my pleas, then knocked me unconscious when I dared to defend myself. I woke up to hear they'd faked my death. I, the grieving father and son, was now a "dead man," manipulated, then "murdered" again, thrown into the raging river. But the true horror was yet to come: Izzy planned to use our baby' s ashes in a twisted ritual to "cleanse" Julian. The depths of her betrayal, the calculated cruelty, left me numb, then burning with a cold, clear rage. Pulled from the river by those loyal to the Hollow, I finally understood. This land, my heritage, it amplifies what's within. Julian' s darkness would be his undoing, and Izzy's choices, her folly-they brought us here. Now, alive and hidden, I would become what I was always meant to be: the true Keeper, ready to reflect their malice back at them./0/82537/coverorgin.jpg?v=2d6e22670c1b2c260fddb169c47edb11&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Love, Her Blinding Hate
Ava Monroe. For five years, my marriage to Ethan Hayes was a bitter war, not a union. I publicly loathed him, clinging to my childhood sweetheart Liam, convinced Ethan was the villain in my life. Then, the unimaginable happened: Ethan died, stabbed by a masked intruder. His desperate, dying call? I dismissed it, hanging up my phone, thinking it just another attempt at control. But death didn't stop him; for five agonizing days, he was back, a visible, tangible spirit. Liam' s insidious whispers fueled my contempt, convincing me Ethan' s ghostly return was merely another manipulative game. I accused him of staging attacks, forced him to kneel publicly, and even held his head underwater in our pool, demanding confessions for lies. At a grand gala, after I slapped him for a supposed poisoning concocted by Liam, Ethan finally broke, slapping me back with a raw, desperate love in his eyes that I was too numb to see. He then vanished, leaving only a final, haunting note. I thought I was finally free, but the ensuing silence grew louder than any conflict. Until I found his horrifically decomposed body and that letter, detailing a fantastical "Gatekeeper," a five-day reprieve, and how my own icy "I will never love you" had sealed his fate. My world didn't just shatter; it exploded, revealing that I had inadvertently killed the man who had secretly loved me. With chilling clarity, the pieces clicked into place: Liam' s "sympathy," his manufactured chaos, his constant poisoning of my mind. He was the architect of Ethan's murder, the true monster, the puppet master of my destruction. My grief transmuted into a glacial rage, as Liam thought my husband's death cleared his path to me, yet he was about to learn just how wrong he was./0/63396/coverorgin.jpg?v=595e771e327827f3b45feaeb415d1e20&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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Scandalous Maiden (Secret Lady demon)
A well-known Holy hero was rewarded to be reborn after she killed her husband, who is known as Demon Contractor. Her husband became the villain of their kingdom. She is really in love with him. She had promised to stay with him in sickness and in health but it turns out, it was just her lies. She broke her promise when she couldn't regain her husband. When she was reborn, she was chosen to be one of the maidens that will be chosen for the king's royal consort. Their world is in Apocalypse. In order, to survive, the Gods need his/her people to give them rites. If those maidens are never chosen to be the bride to the Crown Prince, then they will die as a sacrificial tool for the rites. But she never dreams to continue her life again with such beliefs. She already met the True God. Those false Gods were only playing them. Therefore, she hid her slayer identity to kill the faith of those devotees. But a goddess caught her misbehaving, so the goddess reincarnated her husband into someone she never expect to be./0/81892/coverorgin.jpg?v=4b1676f168f29a9038eb8c3e654b131b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Husband's Secret Game
My husband, Julian, a brilliant but reserved academic, and I, Eleanor, an artist obsessed with miniature dioramas, had built a quiet, seemingly perfect life together. Until she arrived. Isabelle Thorne, a character from an old gothic romance Julian was researching, took my body. One moment, I was sketching a new miniature, the next, I was a horrified ghost, watching her claim my life. She moved into my home, used my voice, wore my face, but her eyes held a cruel triumph. She was an actress, and my life was her stage. Helpless, I watched my husband fall deeper into her web. Her ultimate goal? To bear Julian a child, anchoring herself permanently to our world through a twisted ritual. The profound injustice, the sheer impossibility of it, chilled me more than the coldness of my ghostly form. Would Julian ever see through her perfect facade? Could anyone fight something that wasn't supposed to exist? But Julian, my quiet, bookish Julian, began to notice. The small slips, the missing affection. As suspicion hardened into a terrifying certainty, he uncovered her monstrous plan. Now, armed with forbidden knowledge and a desperate, dark resolve, Julian must play a dangerous game – to reclaim his life, avenge his love, and send this horrifying visitor back to the pages from which she spawned./0/80920/coverorgin.jpg?v=2ca94d96bcd3045cfbb2bcaeeb114d9c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
You Can't Kill What's Already Dead
My eyes burned, another all-nighter done, just like the thousand others I'd pulled for my demanding wife, Brittany, and her "successful" friend, Marcus. Then, darkness. I woke up floating, looking down at my own wake, my grieving parents, and in a corner, Brittany and Marcus — she wasn't crying, she was relieved, nestled in his arms. "The Prosperity Bond is a marvelous thing," Marcus murmured, his lips brushing her ear, "It took his earnings, his life force, and multiplied it for me. Tenfold." My breath caught in my spectral throat, my entire life's work, my very essence, stolen and sold by the two people I trusted most, fueling their lavish lifestyle as it drained me dry. The betrayal was a jagged blade, twisting in my non-existent gut, leaving behind only the cold, sharp fury of pure, white-hot rage. Suddenly, blinding sunlight hit my face; I gasped, sitting bolt upright in my own bed, alive, solid, on the very morning of the car crash that killed me, armed with the horrifying truth. "Ethan! Get up! You're going to be late for that presentation!" Brittany's voice, sharp as ever, cut through the silence, but this time, I wasn't just hearing a nagging wife—I was hearing a co-conspirator plotting my demise, and my patience was gone./0/21871/coverorgin.jpg?v=73ddbd01cfb236da99dac93c525514e8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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