icon 0
icon TOP UP
rightIcon
icon Reading History
rightIcon
icon Sign out
rightIcon
icon Get the APP
rightIcon
closeIcon

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

Fantasy Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Love's Resurrection, A Deadly Game

Love's Resurrection, A Deadly Game

My butcher shop smelled of iron and chilled meat, a clean, sharp scent I' d known my whole life. Most people in this small town saw me, Lisa, as the butcher with the pretty face and strange eyes. They whispered, but I didn' t care. Whispers don' t pay the bills, but a new client' s offer of twenty thousand dollars as a deposit for an "Underworld Matchmaker" job certainly did. Two hundred thousand more upon completion. It was enough to change my life. The job: perform a ritual for her supposedly deceased son, Alexander Dubois, to secure his family' s spiritual line and fortune. But then I saw the photo. My stomach dropped. It was Alex, the man who' d vanished from my life five years ago, the struggling artist I' d once loved. Yet, the death certificate listed him as Alexander Dubois, with a different birthdate. His eyes in the photo, full of that familiar charming light, stared back at me, shattering my world. This wasn' t just a high-paying job; it was a trap. The woman who claimed to be his mother was entangled in a web of lies. I knew, with chilling certainty, that the spirit I was summoned to match was not just "resistant"-it was alive. They weren't asking me to perform a ritual for the dead; they were trying to make me an accomplice to murder. My heart pounded furiously. This was no longer just about money or old traditions. This was about Alex, about unraveling the truth, and about surviving the deadly game the Dubois family was playing right into my grandmother' s special plan.
The Neglected Wife: Now Watch the Grove Roar

The Neglected Wife: Now Watch the Grove Roar

My family has always been the quiet guardians of the Beaumont fortune, bound by an ancient Life-Pact to the sacred Redwood trees on their vast estate. My own life force, and the prosperity of the Beaumonts, was intrinsically linked to the magnificent Patriarch tree and the ancestral Heartwood Amulet I wore. Then, Evelyn arrived. My husband, Arthur Beaumont, was instantly ensnared by his childhood sweetheart' s supposed terminal illness. A "specialist" doctor declared her only hope lay in draining the life from our sacred Patriarch or my very own amulet. Arthur, the man who once pledged eternal devotion beneath the ancient Redwoods, looked at me, not at Evelyn, and demanded I hand over the necklace or allow him to harm our holy tree. He didn't wait for my consent. He ripped the Heartwood Amulet from my neck, then smashed it against the Patriarch' s ancient roots, shattering both my legacy and my soul. A searing agony ripped through me, and I watched in horror as my hair faded to grey and my body withered, each cut branch of the sacred tree echoing in my bones. He dismissed my anguish as "theatrics," blinded by Evelyn's manipulative lies, even forcing me to witness the sacred desecration. The betrayal wasn't just physical pain; it was a profound spiritual severing, a dismissal of everything I was and everything our pact represented. How could he exchange our true, ancient bond for a baseless lie and a con artist's whim? He accused me of selfishness, of hoarding the forest's magic, claiming Evelyn' s life mattered more than generations of sacred duty. The Beaumonts had taken our protection for granted, but now they were actively destroying it all. A chilling certainty formed through my suffering: this desecration would not end well for them. Too weak to fight, I declared the Life-Pact broken, nurturing a single, tiny seedling from the Patriarch' s line as my last act. My physical form died, but my spirit transcended, merging with the Redwood forest itself. I became its eternal consciousness, a silent guardian over all Redwoods, watching as the land, no longer protected by our ancient magic, began to reclaim what was truly its own, ensuring the Beaumonts faced the full, brutal consequences of their sacrilege.
Sacrificed To Her King

Sacrificed To Her King

“THE KING HAS ARRIVED!” the guards shout. The sea is parting in 2 separate ways as if it needs to make place for something majestic. Slowly a mighty figure is walking towards the shore. I can’t take my eyes of the man rising from the sea. He must be at least two meters long and more importantly, he’s completely naked. I have never seen a man naked before but if they all look like this I can't complain. I study his body first from his long muscular legs to his impressive abs and wide shoulders. I quickly take a glance at his manhood and think to myself that it looks enormous compared to the pictures I have seen in books. His face is much different than I expected. He has golden blond hair with green eyes and a strong jawline. No one told me the King of the sea was this handsome. Which makes me wonder or anyone still would mind being sacrificed now. Suddenly the king is in front of me. His green eyes look at me coldly and he says, “Turn around for me.” I hold my ground and won’t move. I am not some piece of meat to be examined. And a hello first would have been nice. Who the hell does he think he is? The King gets an annoyed look on his face and then makes his hand into a fist. I immediately feel my lungs fill with water and I can't breathe. The King looks at me with no emotion when he says, “You will not disobey me. If I say you must turn around, you turn around without hesitation. If is ask you a question then, you will address me as your King. Am I clear?” I feel my head get all fuzzy but then he unclenches his fist. I gasp for air and say, “Yes my King.” I decided then and there that I hate this dominant guy. “Hold out your hand,” he commands. I do what he says and he takes my small hand in his big hand. His hands are surprisingly soft for such a big brute. The moment our hands touch a light between them begins to shine. The light glows around us like a big bright star. People around me gasp, so I assume this hasn't happened before. The King looks at me with a look that I can't understand. “At last I have found you,” he says. Before I know it he has picked me up in his arms as if I am as light as a feather, and he walks towards the sea with me in his arms. Blurb: He needed to break his curse, she needed an escape. Once magic was the heart that made the Mortal Realm thrive. Nowadays humans with magical powers only exist in stories. For Noelle magic and adventures only exist in her dreams. But that is all about to change because she is about to turn 18. When she is 18 she can finally explore the world and have adventures of her own! However, things do not go as planned on her birthday. She gets selected to be sacrificed to the King of the Sea. He is rumored to be a giant man with no kindness in his heart. Every year, the King of the Sea picks an 18-year-old virgin to bring to his kingdom. He hopes to find the long-lost heir to the witches to break his curse. Noelle has no idea why she got chosen and what will happen. However, she sure as hell knows that no one can put out the fire in her heart. She gets sucked into a world of magic, temptation, and desires. Will she find her destiny or get lost along the way?
No More Chances, Mr. Thorne

No More Chances, Mr. Thorne

My world shattered when Julian Thorne repaid my ultimate sacrifice with cold betrayal. For nine agonizing times, I, Elara, a Life Weaver, poured my very essence into saving him from death, only for him to credit his scheming lover, Cassie Dane. After my ninth, desperate act of healing, he heartlessly ripped my family's sacred amulet from my neck, leaving me to die, forgotten. But fate, it seemed, had other plans, and I found myself gasping alive in my remote Ozarks cabin for a second chance. When Julian’s deadly illness re-emerged, and his desperate family came knocking, I calmly delivered my firm "No," refusing to become his victim a tenth time. Yet, Julian, now deeply ensnared by Cassie, wouldn't accept my refusal, escalating his malice beyond measure. He married Cassie, then, with savage glee, knowingly drove his ATV through my vital medicinal garden, shattering my rare healing plants. His malevolence reached its horrific peak when he commanded his guards to systematically destroy my hands, the very conduits of my healing power, then pinned my hand to the porch with a hunting knife while Cassie livestreamed my screaming agony. How could the man I sacrificially loved become such a monster, so blind to truth, so twisted by a toxic parasite he called love, that he would try to utterly obliterate my very essence? Just as he raised the knife again to disfigure my face, the very earth rebelled. An ancient chandelier, a symbol of his family’s past, crashed from the ceiling directly onto him, a swift and brutal karmic judgment that finally, truly, set me free.
My Wedding, My Killer, His Betrayal

My Wedding, My Killer, His Betrayal

I don't remember how I got here. One moment, a crushing weight, the roar of a furious crowd, a sharp, final pain. The next, nothing. Then, a flicker. A cold, sharp light that formed a heavy, cream-colored cardstock. Gold letters shimmered: You are cordially invited to the wedding of Ethan Davis and Mia Thompson. Ethan Davis. My uncle. The man who raised me, mentored me, then destroyed me. Mia Thompson. That' s my name. The invitation dissolved. I landed, an unseen observer, in a sun-drenched garden. At the altar, under a floral arch, stood Ethan. Then the music swelled. The bride walked down the aisle. The woman in the white dress was me. She had my face, my dark hair, even the tiny mole above my lip. But her smile was too sharp, her gaze too possessive. It was Chloe Miller. The scene ripped away. I was hurled back to the day my life ended. On a stage, my masterpiece, "Nexus," projected behind me. "This is a lie!" Chloe' s voice sliced through the applause. "She stole it! Nexus is my work!" The crowd turned savage. Cameras flashed. I sought Ethan, the one person who knew the truth. "Ethan, tell them," I begged, my voice a pathetic whisper. "Tell them the truth." He looked at me. Guilt, then cold, calculated resolve. He stepped to the microphone. "I am deeply disappointed. Our company is built on integrity. We cannot and will not tolerate intellectual theft." My death sentence. The world exploded. "Thief!" "Fraud!" Hands grabbed, tearing at my clothes. Rage-contorted faces. I fell. The last thing I saw was Ethan turning his back, his arm around Chloe, as the mob swallowed me whole. Now, a ghost at my own wedding. My uncle was marrying my murderer. The invitation said he was marrying me. The irony was a bitter taste. They wouldn't even let me rest. They' d stolen my work, my reputation, my life. Now, my very face. But a new feeling solidified within my spectral form. Rage. They would not get their happy ending. I would burn their perfect world to the ground.
A Mother's Curse, A World Undone

A Mother's Curse, A World Undone

For fifteen years, silence was my shield, a vow I kept to prevent my "disaster prophecies" from unleashing chaos into the world. My six-year-old son, Noah, was my entire universe, the one shining star in my muted life. But then my ex-husband, Kevin, and his new, beautiful girlfriend, Jessica, sent Noah—who was terrified of dogs—to a brutal ‘discipline’ camp filled with vicious Rottweilers. Soon after, the camp director curtly informed me that Noah "didn’t make it," handing me a small bag containing his torn shirt and a muddy sneaker. When I confronted Kevin with the devastating truth and the remnants of our son, his response shattered my very being. He laughed, callously dismissing Noah's last belongings as "trash," then threw the sacred fragments to his own German Shepherd, watching as the dog tore at them. The familiar sting of my silence, always a weapon against me, now became an unbearable agony, a fire raging inside my soul. But in that moment, as the last shred of my world crumbled, the dam broke, and a raw, hoarse sound ripped from my chest. My voice, silent for a decade and a half, returned with a chilling clarity. "Kevin," I hissed, "you will pay for this. Everything you value will turn to dust." And to Jessica, shielding her pregnant belly, I declared, "Your child will not live, and fire will consume your beauty for the rest of your miserable life." This was no longer sorrow; this was a mother’s curse, freshly spoken, and the world would soon discover its terrifying power.
Too Late, Mr. Thorne: Her Heaven, Your Hell

Too Late, Mr. Thorne: Her Heaven, Your Hell

My life with Marcus Thorne was a fairytale, shielded by his ruthless power and what I thought was unwavering love. He was whispered about in D.C. elite circles-powerful, ruthless, yet always gentle with me, his Eleanor. Our legendary love story began years ago when he saved me, promising protection and building our world around him. Then, at a glittering D.C. gala, chaos erupted: gunfire, and his young operative, Izzy, took a bullet meant for him. But suddenly, the devoted man I knew vanished, replaced by a cold stranger fixated on Izzy, claiming a convenient amnesia. He then insisted I donate bone marrow for her "experimental treatment," disregarding doctors' warnings about my delicate pregnancy. I endured Izzy's endless demands and his chilling indifference as our long-awaited child, conceived after years of yearning, slipped away due to the procedure. My heart shattered, watching him dote on Izzy, who relished in my public humiliation. Then, I overheard his chilling confession: his "amnesia" was a calculated lie, and our baby' s death merely a "tragic necessity" to repay his supposed debt to her. The man I married, who vowed to protect me, had deliberately sacrificed our child, our future, for a cold, calculated lie. My world collapsed, my deep love turning to ashes, leaving only a hollow, burning rage. How could the man I adored be such a monster, so casually dismissing our child' s very life? I was merely a pawn in his twisted game, living a carefully constructed deception. But I refused to be his victim anymore. With every shred of my being, I resolved to disappear, to utterly erase Eleanor Thorne and reclaim my autonomy. This time, I would emerge a phoenix, not a pawn.
His Cruel Love: The Feather's Betrayal

His Cruel Love: The Feather's Betrayal

For twenty years, I was the heart of Havenwood, the boy with the miraculous feather that brought life to barren fields and healed the sick. My gift built their prosperity; I gave them everything, believing I was blessed to serve my people. Then, the blight came, stubborn and unyielding, and suddenly, their gratitude turned to fury. They labeled me a monster, accused me of hoarding power, and the same faces I' d known since childhood, led by Mr. Gable, dragged me through the streets and into a jail cell. "You will remember me," I told their hateful faces as Sheriff Davis drove me away; a warning they met with mocking laughter. Just when despair was setting in, Julian Croft, a wealthy man whose racehorse I once saved, bailed me out, but his intent was not kindness. He wanted to buy my power, to turn my gift into a tool for his luxury resort, demanding I make his barren mountainside a paradise. "No," I defied him, a new strength burning in me as he sneered, "I' m not your tool." For my rebellion, his men brutalized me, leaving me battered and broken, but not defeated. I limped back to Havenwood, seeking refuge, only to be met with accusations that the blight had worsened because of my absence, and a demand for a million dollars in damages. "You owe us!" they screamed, their greed consuming them as they blamed me for their own suffering. In a horrifying climax, Mr. Gable, believing my feather was a "plug" holding back power, ripped it from my neck with rusty sheep shears, convinced it would unleash my full gift upon them. The pain was excruciating, a tearing agony, but as the feather crumbled to dust, something new awakened within me. A power, untamed and mine alone, surged through my veins, washing away my wounds, leaving me stronger than ever before. I turned my back on their horrified faces, leaving Havenwood to its self-made curse, knowing their prosperity would wither without me. I rebuilt my life far away, prospering in a bustling city, while Havenwood succumbed to the very blight they blamed me for, ravaged by unnaturally aggressive insects and rats. Their desperation grew, and the very people who had once praised me, then condemned me, then brutalized me, finally realized the truth: their savior was gone, and their damnation was their own doing. Mr. Gable' s family died horrifically, his wife driven mad, and an ill-fated "purifier" brought even more devastation, leading to the unthinkable death of every child in Havenwood. The town, now a biohazard, vanished from the map, its few survivors scattered and insane, while Julian Croft, too, met a swift, unceremonious end. I was finally free, building my own life on my own terms, leaving the ghosts of Havenwood behind, a testament to the price of betrayal and unbridled greed.