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History Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
From Jilted Bride To Powerful Marchioness

From Jilted Bride To Powerful Marchioness

Adela Mays stood at the altar, gripping her white rose bouquet until the stems dug into her skin. This grand wedding to Lord Julian Blackwood was her only escape from a home where her stepmother treated her worse than a stray dog. But the heavy oak doors didn't open for her groom. Instead, a pale steward walked down the aisle, handing the bishop a hastily torn letter. Julian had eloped with a commoner for "true love," publicly abandoning her at the altar. The chapel instantly erupted into cruel laughter and mocking whispers. In the front row, her stepmother's eyes gleamed with triumphant satisfaction, while her furious father prepared to drag her back to a life of endless torment. Hundreds of nobles watched her become the ultimate joke, the most pathetic, discarded bride in the entire kingdom. The humiliation felt like a thousand needles piercing her skin. To return home meant a fate worse than death, and to accept the Blackwood family's pity would make her a lifelong symbol of their shame. She refused to be a disposable pawn ruined by a coward's betrayal. Behind her was a cliff, so she chose to step forward. She slowly lifted her own veil, her eyes as cold as a frozen lake, and locked her gaze on the groom's terrifying uncle—Marquis Broderick Blackwood, the undisputed head of the family. "To repair the damage done to my name, my choice is you, my Lord Marquis." The entire chapel gasped in disbelief. The abandoned bride was about to become the most powerful woman in the kingdom.
My Parents, Their Pet, My Hell

My Parents, Their Pet, My Hell

The Great Depression had gnawed away at everything, leaving my family-my parents, Mark and Susan, and me, Sarah-scrambling for survival in a city choked with despair. Then, they found Buddy, a stray golden retriever, shivering in an alley. Suddenly, my meager cannery wages, meant for rent and food, were funneled into premium dog food, toys, and vet visits for him. I worked myself to exhaustion, only to watch them hand-feed Buddy roasted chicken from our good plates while I got watery potato soup. He wasn't just a dog; a cold, malevolent intelligence lurked in his eyes, a mocking smirk reserved just for me. When I tried to evict him, he bit me, and my parents blamed me, tending to him while I bled, calling me a "jealous, worthless girl." My world shattered when I was laid off, and an eviction notice arrived. Our only hope was a government housing lottery. But when I announced it, my parents only saw three spots: one for them, and one for Buddy. "He's not a dog!" my mother screamed. "He's family! More family than you've ever been!" They raced off, dragging Buddy, leaving me, weakened by hunger and infection, to chase after them. I watched, horrified, as an official marked three names: my father, my mother, and the dog. They were ushered through the gate. They didn't look back as it locked, leaving me outside. Through the bars, Buddy looked at me and grinned. I died alone, freezing in an alley. Then, a sudden jolt. My eyes flew open. I was in my bed, the morning my parents found Buddy. My blood ran cold, hearing their cheerful voices. I was back. And this time, I wouldn't die in the cold. I would find out why they chose a dog over their own daughter. And they would pay.