Horror Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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The Soul Eater.
10 years earlier, Jason Hathaway drives down a dark deserted road on his way home from his nephew's birthday party, when he sees a red haired woman walking along the side of the road. Picking her up, he finds out that she is not what he thinks she is. Instead, he ends up losing his soul. Spending the next 10 years of his life looking over his shoulder, he eventually comes to the realization that the only way to get his soul back is to kill her. Along the way, he finds out that she is just playing a game. So, now the question is, does he find and kill her or does she haunt him for eternity? Find out in The Soul Eater who wins./0/88688/coverorgin.jpg?v=6ce45c1f4aad0de84e29e70843dfd62e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unshakeable Queen Returns
I came home from a business trip, and my husband told me our six-year-old son was dead. He showed me the dashcam footage of Leo dying of heatstroke, left alone in the car by his young nanny, Kendall. But instead of seeking justice, my husband locked me in the car and turned the heat on full blast, recreating our son's final moments. He demanded the password to my phone to delete the footage, snarling that we couldn't ruin a twenty-year-old's future over a "mistake." To force my hand, he had thugs break into my elderly father's nursing home room, threatening him on a live video call. Later, at our son's memorial, he defended Kendall as she took selfies with the casket and played pop music. He helped her show a manipulated video to the crowd, painting me as a negligent, career-obsessed mother. The mourners threw drinks at me while my husband protected his lover. The next day, I learned the truth. My father, after being blackmailed by those same thugs, had taken his own life to protect me. My husband hadn't just covered up a murder; he had caused another. He thought he had won, that he had destroyed all the evidence and broken me completely. But he forgot one thing. The GPS smartwatch on our son's wrist. It recorded everything—not just his death, but every cruel, taunting word Kendall whispered as she let him die./0/84147/coverorgin.jpg?v=24227c25a584a4898acb891471b28a0c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No More Secrets: The Agent's Redemption
Five years of silence, a ghost in Eastern Europe for the CIA, and all I dreamt of was coming home to my husband and our daughter. My handler gave me a burner phone, a sliver of connection to the life I' d left. With trembling hands, I tapped into my home security feed, desperate for a glimpse of them. The flickering screen showed my elderly, stroke-ridden mother being slapped and force-fed spoiled mush. Then, my eight-year-old daughter, Molly, on her hands and knees. "Lick it up, you little brat," the nanny, Jennifer, sneered, kicking Molly, forcing her to clean spilled food off the marble floor. My blood ran cold, a primal scream trapped in my throat. I stormed through the door, only to be branded an intruder by Jennifer and her mother, Debra. My husband, Matthew, paralyzed by his manipulative mother Rosalynn' s control, watched as I was humiliated and assaulted in my own living room. They beat me, in front of my daughter, in the very house I' d fought to protect. How could the life I sacrificed everything for have become this twisted nightmare, where I was a stranger, an outcast in my own home? Just as despair threatened to consume me, a fleet of black SUVs swarmed the property, and my CIA handler, Andrew Blakely, walked in. He held up a tablet, and the unedited footage of my mother and daughter' s abuse began to play on our living room TV./0/80904/coverorgin.jpg?v=61eb9c26540d385de9f86804e6641aa8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Beyond the Altar
My father, Pastor Miller, knew everyone in Oakhaven. After his funeral, as people left, I sat in the front pew, my fiancé David’s hand on my arm. My mother, beside me, was a broken bird. We were a grieving family, facing loss, but united. Then, just as I thought the church was empty, the side door creaked open. Three men. My father’s ashes, held sacred moments before, were cruelly threatened. They dragged me to the office. For eight hours, they hurt me. They filmed everything. By noon, the video was everywhere. My phone blew up with cruelty, not comfort. David called, his voice flat. “The wedding… it’s off.” My job was gone. My mother saw it. Two days later, she died, her eyes full of a pain I couldn’t fix. I was alone. Utterly ruined. My supposed savior, Michael Vance, David’s older brother, offered me an escape: marriage. I was desperate, saying yes. Six months later, I overheard his drunken confession: Michael orchestrated my hell. All of it. The assault, the video, even my father’s ruin. All for another woman, Jessica Thorne. How could the man who offered me safety be the architect of my destruction? After being publicly shamed again and institutionalized, a chilling thought solidified: I was no longer a victim. A cold, hard whisper formed in my mind: *Revenge.* With my sharp lawyer aunt by my side, I knew what had to be done. They would pay./0/41003/coverorgin.jpg?v=99ddfc0a3f2225c5b451e36451f3d447&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Law of Beasts Book 1 - Act 1: KHOVAHSH
KHOVAHSH BURGOOS, an elitist demi-shifting reincarnate, is a nine-thousand-year-old member of the Dragonhead Ancients…. ALICIA CHAY, the sadistic queen of torture, ruled for forty centuries under the identity of someone else. With a family of savages as her fledgling, she detests mortals, but she loves feeding on them for blood. Her passion for protecting animal life poured into the creation of the “TREATY OF THE ANIMALS.” It’s a declaration signed in supernatural blood by the Kings of every Animal Tribe in the supernatural world to maintain the balance between good and evil... But there’s one problem. She became a vampire, built THÈ HÔU₷E ÖF THÈ HÔUND₷ and created a treaty without clearance from the Dragonhead Ancients or the Queen Mother, Armona. Alicia hunts down insubordinate vampires that illegally use human bodies to snub precious animal life. Meanwhile...she is being observed by Khovahsh. He has direct orders to deceive her, but he has his own agenda. When they encounter each other a chain of events compromises her life and opens the door for MUZZLE, an angry villain, to threaten her for turning her back on THÈ HÔU₷E ÖF THÈ HÔUND₷./1/110762/coverorgin.jpg?v=f454633e4e9dbe1f9c725a424ff53144&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Cursed Story
During a college retreat, we hosted a storytelling competition. They just kept egging me on, completely oblivious to the terrifying disaster it would invite. I said, "The story I'm about to tell is a curse." "Everyone who has ever heard this story has died." "Are you sure you want to hear it?"/0/60799/coverorgin.jpg?v=1d45ccc0b7ba6f59e5595e47e9fceff4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Two-Faced Wife
Sure! Here’s the translation: "I am the gentle sweet wife in everyone's eyes. When my husband is abusive, I silently endure; when he cheats, I cry and forgive. Even when he says his boss likes married women and wants me to sleep with him, I reluctantly agree. He thinks I am weak and incapable, so he happily turns and leaves. After he goes, I wipe away the fake tears from my face and touch the back of my head. Covered by a thick mass of hair is another face, one that is almost taking shape— He still doesn’t know that another me inside is about to awaken."/0/85782/coverorgin.jpg?v=b550975b6e75867bd41cdfa1f285cf5c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Betrayal, Her Blinding Revenge
The last thing I remembered was the blinding glare of headlights. When I woke, my world was darkness and pain, my hands - my tools - shattered. My fiancé, Liam, the city's celebrated neurosurgeon, became my rock, his voice a soothing balm. He claimed the drunk driver was caught, our unborn son Leo was safe, and he' d be my eyes and hands until I healed. Months blurred into a fog of physical therapy and his suffocating care. My hands were slow, my blindness absolute, a constant reminder of my helplessness. But then, a flicker. A shape. Color. My sight was coming back, a miracle I couldn' t wait to share with Liam. But as I approached his operating room, voices drifted out, shattering my illusion. "Dr. Miller, Mrs. Chen' s hands are showing signs of recovery again. Do you really want to break her fingers again? This is the eighth time." Eighth time? And then… "Ben, Leo was killed by you. You want to protect Charlotte, but you don' t need to destroy Ava!" Charlotte? Leo was killed? By Liam? This man, my savior, had murdered our son and systematically tortured me to protect his mistress? The joy in my heart turned to an icy dread. He thought I was blind, helpless, and broken. He had no idea the woman he tried to destroy was meticulously cataloging his every lie, his every atrocity. He thought I was his victim. He was wrong. I was his judge. And the trial had just begun./0/25760/coverorgin.jpg?v=1a641ad98f5b285078e9178e955a5788&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Ghost in Africa
Elias awakens to find himself - and eight other thirteen year olds - trapped in a strange cursed house somewhere in West Africa. Jakob must uphold the century old tradition of the occult entrusted into his care and reawaken the entire nine members of his tribe to begin the 'dawn'. Each must find a way to survive in the six hours or lose all they hold dear./0/51393/coverorgin.jpg?v=83698606298fb87247bca9cb3497242c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Once Upon a Time-
The discovery of an invincible sword in the Mortal Realm brought about blood and carnage in its wake. Follow the tale of a group of young friends from a small town and their strange experiences… with the supernatural. So began the adventures of these young friends as they encountered the paranormal, the ghastly, and the indescribable, as they wended their ways to unravel mysteries and uncover secrets that would make your hair curl…/0/86758/coverorgin.jpg?v=113db1762e8f82dda0fe6cc3ae260f69&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When Dead Husbands Walk Again
The day Michael Miller came back from the dead was a Tuesday. I was in my home office, the one that used to be his, when the doorbell rang, followed by a commotion downstairs. A man' s voice, familiar yet chillingly out of place, echoed through the house. It was Michael Miller, my husband, whose funeral I' d attended three years ago. He stood there, healthy and tanned, not alone. A blonde woman clung to his arm, and beside them, two children with his dark hair and pale blue eyes stared up at me, their faces hostile. "Ava," he said, his voice smooth, as if he' d just returned from a business trip. "I' m home." He introduced the woman as Chloe Davis and the children as Jasper and Ruby, explaining casually that he had faked his death to escape crushing debts. He expected me to accept them, to move into a guest room, to welcome his new family into our home. His mother, Eleanor, and siblings, Sarah and Ben, burst in, not with shock, but relief, claiming amnesia had kept him away. They sided with him, Eleanor even suggesting I move to the guest cottage. The family I had tirelessly saved from ruin, the company I' d rebuilt from scratch after his "death," now saw me as an inconvenience, a lingering ghost in my own life. I thought of the child we were supposed to have, the one I lost due to the stress of saving his company, of dealing with his fake death. The painful memory of my miscarriage, alone in this big, empty house, while he was off starting a new life, a new family. Then, Chloe' s son, Jasper, kicked my shin and called me an "old witch." Chloe giggled. The dam holding back my buried grief and rage shattered. I looked at their arrogant faces, their triumphant sneers. They had no idea who I had become in the fire of his betrayal. They didn' t know the thriving Miller Corp was no longer theirs. It was mine./0/87732/coverorgin.jpg?v=e61e9708b3734befdb668faea4aad001&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Shattered Heart, His Cruel Betrayal
My husband's pregnant mistress disappeared, and he accused me of kidnapping her. To force a confession, he dragged a writhing burlap sack into the living room, threatening to beat the "stray dog" inside if I didn't tell him where she was. I screamed that our son, Jalen, was inside. He just laughed, calling me a liar as he raised an iron poker. I watched, helpless, as he brought it down again and again, ignoring my pleas. Through the blood-soaked fabric, I heard our son's last, faint whisper: "Daddy…" As if that wasn't enough, he then had his men drag me to a back room to punish me for his mistress’s supposed miscarriage. They left me broken on the floor, my son dead and my soul shattered. With nothing left to live for, I threw myself into the ocean. But I was saved. And when I opened my eyes, I made a vow. I would return, and I would drag them both down to the hell they built for me./0/60804/coverorgin.jpg?v=323f046090a6e1d43161014881919fb9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Fractured Bonds
Sure! Here’s the translation: "My parents killed the female lead's parents in a car accident and adopted her as their daughter. She is like the heroine of a novel, capturing everyone's attention the moment she appears. This includes my parents, my childhood crush, and my best friend. Meanwhile, I feel like a rat in a gutter, never seeing the light of day. The spacious room was forcibly given to the female lead, while I was left to live in a cramped storage room. My classmates bully me, calling me the daughter of a murderer. My parents scold me for lacking empathy. My childhood crush and best friend say I’m jealous and intentionally trying to embarrass her. Even though I did nothing wrong, I still have to bear the blame that doesn’t belong to me. As the new year begins, they gather as a family, while I, suffering from severe depression, step into the cold river water."/0/86761/coverorgin.jpg?v=7dbe4f64347a04b7515be2d1a65d1167&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Life, Her Vengeance
On my deathbed, gasping for air, my wife Olivia and our son stood over me, reeking of cold fury and gasoline. "Our son was conceived with Alex' s sperm," Olivia whispered, a venomous hiss. My son poured gasoline over me as she smiled, "You spent your entire life raising a child for the man I loved!" The first flame brought searing agony; my world exploded into fire. I screamed, the sound swallowed by the inferno. Then I opened my eyes. The smell of gasoline was gone, replaced by roses. I was young, strong, in a tuxedo. This was my wedding night, thirty years earlier. The door burst open; Olivia, pale and panicked, clutched her phone. "Alex sent me a message," she stammered. "He' s at the cliff. He' s going to jump." Her father, Mr. Miller, sternly forbade her from leaving. "If you don' t complete this wedding today, the Miller family will disown you!" Olivia looked at me, her eyes filled with venomous hatred. She slapped me, a sharp sting. In my first life, I had begged her to stay, dedicating thirty years to her and her family, building their empire, raising her son-Alex' s son-only to be burned alive for my devotion. The betrayal was a fresh wound, a guiding light. This time, I would not be a fool. I looked at Olivia, her face twisted with fear and hatred, and made a decision./0/17979/coverorgin.jpg?v=4d2e0247c45f164c11f34d4eaf12ea5b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Dangerous Detoxification
(Savages series #1) I left them for her, so they took her away, to teach me a lesson, claiming that she makes me soft. But they'll soon realize just how soft I am not. When I unleash hell to their doors to get her back. I'll teach them the lesson; never take away a Savages's fixation./0/60807/coverorgin.jpg?v=e5f33318300e8c183038a8f4a3ef5873&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Ghosts In The House
I'm a horror novelist. Recently, the release of my new work made me quite a bit of money. However, I haven't written the ending for this story yet. To be honest, writing the ending of a horror story is really difficult. My new work is titled "The Building Ghost." Late at night, a reporter named Yolanda approached me and asked, "Xander, do you believe that building ghosts exist in this world?" I took a sip of my beer and fell into silence. "I do."/0/80925/coverorgin.jpg?v=79a3a5fbeeba38f81486736c97fd6872&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Secret My Mother Buried
My dad vanished four years ago on Widow's Peak, a notorious trail. I thought I'd finally found closure when rangers declared him dead, burying his ruined journal in our backyard. But then, late one night, the back door creaked open, and he was back. Not really. He was a horrifying shell of a man, caked in dirt, radiating a preternatural chill, and grinning with an empty, fixed smile. My mom, Linda, took one look at him and whispered, "That is not your father," before fleeing, leaving me alone with it. Desperate, I unearthed Dad's journal, its water-damaged pages filled with warnings, and a chilling photo of Carol, my biological mother, dead near a cave. His last legible entry, scrawled in what looked like blood, screamed: "MAYA! LINDA ISN'T YOUR MOTHER!" My world shattered. Who was Carol? And if Linda wasn't my mother, then who was she, the woman who raised me, now possibly a betrayer? I had to unearth every dark secret the Appalachian mountains held, from the chilling 'Hollow Man' in my living room to the twisted truth of my family, even if it meant confronting the woman who sacrificed everything for me./0/80279/coverorgin.jpg?v=e8b6e263d5f408fdcc20f2bed6201b43&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Cradle of Imposters
My life revolved around little Samuel, my two-month-old son, in the grand Winston estate. One quiet afternoon, a faint wheeze from the nursery monitor pierced the silence, and my world shattered. I found Samuel struggling for breath, turning blue, his emergency inhaler intentionally placed just out of his tiny reach. My fourteen-year-old stepdaughter, Chloe, stood by his crib, a chilling, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. As I lunged for my dying son, Chloe shrieked, "Daddy, Emily's gone crazy!" My husband, James, burst in, his face a mask of annoyance, not panic, as he rushed to comfort Chloe's theatrical tears. His mother, Margaret, a formidable matriarch, surveyed the scene and coldly declared, "Some children are not meant for this world. The Winston name doesn’t need weakness." They blamed me, coddled Chloe, and ignored the truth. My heart didn't just break; it calcified into a diamond of pure rage. How could my family dismiss Samuel’s life so callously, side with the person who allowed him to die, and blame *me* for their indifference? The injustice burned. But in that abyss of betrayal, something primal awakened within me. A chilling, intuitive certainty bloomed: I could make them pay. I met James’s cold gaze, my voice steady amidst their chaos. "I can give you sons, James. Healthy sons. Sons to carry the Winston name."/0/82551/coverorgin.jpg?v=6adb1f68b21bbdfa0d6a049ee474c45f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Family, My Monsters: The Stanford Betrayal
I just won the dream scholarship: a full ride to Stanford. The National Innovators Scholarship. Everything I worked for, finally within reach. But instead of cheers, my family' s faces twisted into pure horror. "You think you' re better than us? Better than Sophie?" my mother hissed. My father's grip was like steel, my grandmother approached with a syringe. They drugged me, beat me, and screamed that the scholarship was for my twin sister, Sophie. I woke up freezing, abandoned in our remote, unheated mountain cabin, left to die. Then, I bolted upright in my bed, back on the very morning the nightmare began. My family, polished and serene, began to gaslight me, spinning tales of an "unwell" Sophie and my own deteriorating mental state. They destroyed my scholarship letter and prepared to send me away, or back to that cabin. Was I going crazy? Did I have a sister I couldn' t remember, one I' d supposedly harmed? The sheer betrayal and their twisted lies made me question my own reality. How could the people who raised me be such monsters? Just as doubt threatened to consume me, a desperate knock at the door broke through the fog. My friend Liam, seeing something was wrong, helped me piece together the truth: I wasn't crazy; I was being systematically poisoned and manipulated. Now, armed with newfound clarity and a burning rage, I' m ready to expose their sinister plan and reclaim my life./0/94232/coverorgin.jpg?v=17c9f082fc7945505ae90927e1f1ed20&imageMogr2/format/webp)
