Horror Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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His Cruel Obsession, Her Agony
My younger brother, Ernesto, was strapped to a metal chair, convulsing, his face a ghastly blue. I was on my knees, begging Kalen Cooper, the man I once loved, to stop. He looked down at me, his handsome face a mask of cold indifference, and offered a choice: a hundred lashes for me, or Ernesto takes my place. He said Izabella, the woman who looked just like me and whom he was now obsessed with, needed to be appeased. He called her his "therapy," claiming my disobedience upset her. I reminded him Ernesto had cystic fibrosis, his body already so weak, but Kalen scoffed, saying his pain was far greater. Ernesto, barely conscious, rasped, "Don't... don't do it for me." But I agreed to the whip, just for his medication. Kalen' s expression softened, pulling me into a cruel illusion of safety. Then, his smile vanished. "You misunderstood," he whispered, his eyes glinting. "You don' t get to choose who takes the punishment. You only get to agree to it." He pointed at Ernesto. "He will take the lashes for you." I screamed, fighting to shield my brother, but Kalen held me tight, forcing my face into his chest. I couldn't see, but I heard everything: the sharp crack of the whip, the sickening thud, Ernesto' s choked gasp. Over and over. The man I loved was a monster, finding pleasure in my pain./0/84205/coverorgin.jpg?v=188e7093bfa0200ed25f0ab1317060e3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Pastor's 63rd Bride
The town of Havenwood smells of damp earth and blind faith, but I only came back for my sister Maria's funeral. She was Pastor Morris' s 63rd bride, and like the 62 before her, she died on her wedding night. Instead of grief, my parents were celebrating, beaming with pride as they informed me that Maria had "ascended" and that Pastor Morris had chosen me to be his next bride. My own family, then my best friend Wendy, and finally even my fiancé Matthew, betrayed me, selling me out to a man they believed was holy, a man who had murdered my sister. I was utterly alone, tied to an altar, staring at portraits of his previous victims, wondering why anyone would celebrate such horror. But when Pastor Morris offered me a choice of how I wished to "depart," something snapped, and my defiance brought an unexpected reprieve. Then I witnessed Wendy, my own best friend, ecstatic as venomous snakes bit her, realizing this wasn't murder, but a horrifying, willing ritual suicide. Driven by a desperate need to understand the madness, I confronted the supposed "master," who claimed to be my long-dead great-grandfather and that these sacrifices saved our town. But remembering my real great-grandfather's true teachings about grace, not blood, I saw through the imposter's lies. Realizing he was the blight twisting our town' s faith, I plunged the knife meant for me into him, shattering the collective delusion and freeing Havenwood from its long nightmare./0/81936/coverorgin.jpg?v=a792710651cea8ce38c721cdad9ba2f5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted Supply
Returning to my Chicago office after maternity leave, I craved the familiar rhythm of marketing and the comfort of normalcy. But on my very first day back, a strange woman from accounting, Brenda, confronted me with a bizarre, unsettling demand. Convinced my breast milk was the miraculous cure for her 19-year-old developmentally disabled son, Kevin, she insisted I provide it, "directly and on demand." My polite refusal ignited a terrifying, obsessive campaign of harassment. Brenda's actions escalated from chilling threats to physical confrontations, culminating in a horrifying ambush in the company lactation room. She deliberately tore my clothes, began filming, and shamelessly urged her large son to assault me for my milk. Even after this grotesque attack, HR downplayed it as a mere "workplace dispute," paralyzed by Brenda's expert manipulation of Kevin's disability and her theatrical victimhood. Police, overwhelmed by her counter-accusations and her son' s condition, offered no arrests, only warnings. I was left reeling, violated, and utterly betrayed by a system designed to protect employees. Brenda's smug victory, coupled with subtle, continued threats, pushed me to the brink. How could I be safe when my workplace allowed such depravity, bending to one woman' s deranged obsession? With official help impossible and my personal safety compromised, I realized I had to fight back on my own terms. My retired Marine Sergeant father and powerful football-player nephew became my unexpected allies. Brenda had declared war; I decided it was time to find my own weapons./0/86803/coverorgin.jpg?v=95f186bbb849041bc1cd597e80ffb518&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Surgeon's Wife: A Postmortem Love
I feel the cold first. It' s the stainless-steel table beneath me, as my soul hovers just above, watching. The man in blue scrubs, my husband Dr. Ethan Cole, picks up a scalpel. He's a surgeon, brilliant they say, but today he' s playing forensic pathologist to my dismembered body. My body is in pieces-a leg here, an arm there. My soul is hollow, devoid of anger or jealousy, as Ethan and his assistant try to piece me together. He remarks, "This is a mess. The killer was thorough. Almost… personal." His voice sends shivers down what used to be my spine, reminding me of all the times he' d used that same dismissive tone. He finds a dark splinter near my ribs, speculating about where I was held. Moments later, his phone rings, and his voice softens for Olivia Hayes, inviting her to her birthday, then turning to me with pure disgust, muttering, "Let' s get this over with." Then he finds our secret. A tiny, nascent fetus within me. His mask shatters, replaced by a choked, guttural sound of shock, horror, and something else-a child he just declared not worth his money. Clara, my best friend, calls, frantic. Ethan coldly dismisses her, claiming ignorance of my whereabouts and indifference. Olivia arrives, radiant in red, bringing him soup. As she turns, her elbow bumps a tray of instruments, and caught off guard, a flash of pure, venomous rage twists her face – a look that unmasks my killer: Olivia. My last memories flood back: Olivia, silhouetted, smiling, whispering, "He' s mine, Chloe," before raising the hammer. Now I watch her ladle soup for Ethan, realizing my death freed him, made him hers. And a foolish, broken part of me thinks, 'Maybe it' s for the best. If my death makes him happy, then let him be happy.' But then Olivia answers Clara' s call, and, with a cruel smirk, lies, framing me as an unfaithful wife who ran off with "Ryan something." Just before Ethan rushes off, claiming a work emergency, I see him make a furtive call to Detective Ryan O' Malley, telling him to ping my real phone. And just as Olivia confidently shoves something into her bag after he leaves, it slips out: my phone, with its cracked screen and cat charm. I know exactly where Ethan is going now-to find my phone at Olivia' s other apartment-and the labyrinth of lies begins to unravel./0/21590/coverorgin.jpg?v=7855f5c1e6c6920de9565ca84a1f1584&imageMogr2/format/webp)
ENRAGED SOUL
Laura was a bold, courageous, gorgeous, intelligent young lady who always stood out for herself. She always fought for her right and never allowed anyone to look down on her , her family nor her friends. She was known as the most brilliant and talented student in her class. This irritated some of her mates and led to the plot of her attack to tame her. " Hold her, let's see how her intelligence works this time...", Ben exclaimed, landing a huge slap on her cheek. Patrick and Fred held her tightly, chuckling and teasing. They molested and bullied her until she passed out. " Wait, Ben, I think we killed her....", Fred cried " Shut up, what do you know? She's just doing that to scare us...." " No, Ben...I think he's right...we killed her..." " Oh, my God...what should we do..." Join me on this journey while we find out what they did to her body and the outcome of their action. ENRAGED SOUL;The revenge of a traumatized girl/0/19319/coverorgin.jpg?v=a40049a018a56f73ed120ec6da6f1499&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Submitting
"I never chose the life I had back then. Never asked for it But now all that I have, I have earned. Maybe not by the right means but they are mine all the same. " His rough hands caressed my tear stained cheeks with such gentleness that it could easily fool me. It almost did. I wanted to scoot away but the ropes tying my hands to the bedpost, tugged at my skin harshly. There was no escape. "But even if I get everything in the world, there will always be one thing missing." He didn't have to complete the sentence for me to know the answer. **** The darkness from her past had returned hand in hand with the taunting present. Rose was caged in the hands of the devil and he was not ready to let go anytime sooner. **** Sequel to the submission series. (Submit #2) Triggers and smut present. I do not own the background picture of this book's cover. Book cover made by me./0/84211/coverorgin.jpg?v=691263830352151474f3664806d10e5a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Pawn To Predator
They told me I was coming home, a long-lost son found by the wealthy Clark family in their sprawling New Orleans mansion. But the moment I touched the Sphynx cat they insisted was a "welcome gift," a wave of pure malice hit me-a human consciousness trapped and seething with hate. And the antique locket my "mother" gave me? It was no protection; it was a hungry leech, designed to drain my life force, preparing me to be a sacrifice. They weren't welcoming me; they were grooming me for a body-swapping ritual, trading my soul for their "true son" Caleb, stuck in that cat's body. Forty-nine days, the cat' s angry thoughts projected into my mind, until my worthless soul was snuffed out. How could these people, who claimed to be my family, plot such a monstrous thing? But as I looked at their immense wealth and felt the cold gleam in their eyes, I knew precisely what I had to do: I would play their dark game, only I would win everything, and they would lose it all./0/87462/coverorgin.jpg?v=7bf58ac5d3f0e301aaf0092911ce98a5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Death of a Love, Birth of a Ghost
My sister Ivanna's son was dying. His leukemia had returned, and he needed a bone marrow transplant immediately. My husband, Jaimen, didn't hesitate. His cold eyes landed on our five-year-old daughter, Lily, playing in the corner. "Use Lily's," he said. "Her marrow is a perfect match." When I refused, he and my own sister pinned me to the floor. They ignored my screams as doctors held down my terrified daughter and performed the extraction. They took too much. Lily died the next day of cardiac arrest. Then, they had me beaten and dumped my body in a dark alley, leaving me to die alone. For three years, Jaimen believed I had run away out of spite. He cursed my name, telling everyone I was a venomous woman who had murdered our daughter to get back at him. Now, Timothy's leukemia is back, and Jaimen has launched a massive, city-wide manhunt. He is threatening to torture my mother to force me out of hiding, vowing to break my legs and make me kneel. He has no idea his search will lead him to two graves. And that my ghost is watching his every move, waiting for the moment he finally learns the truth./0/46260/coverorgin.jpg?v=2a5392930b4e4c88221a11eac3ebd0a2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Behind you, Mate
"Behind you, Mate?!" Everything started when Darelia got transferred to a catholic school with supernatural creatures. Being known to be dumb from birth, no one knew her source, except that she grew up with her stepmother and stepsister. Bullied and tortured without any supernatural power, she became a tool in the hands of her sisters. Things took an eerie turn when she started hearing voices in her head, silent feathery footsteps behind her, seeing wet sloshy marks in her room, and shadowy figures in her dream. Her blind search for help threw her into the claws of a teacher, a supposed helper who'd transform into Darelia's exact replica at night. Darelia started seeing reflections of a particular man in the mirror, a reflection that vanishes before she looks back - her vampire mate. The mirror man, "Behind you, Mate!!" That voice, that same voice./1/130942/coverorgin.jpg?v=b72c176de6108ef3b3710ecb27446c04&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Morning The World Broke
It started like any ordinary sickness. Just another flu. Or so everyone believed. They could not have been more wrong. This disease rewrote the world. For better or for worse, the survivors would decide. Join an unlikely group as they battle the brutal new reality forced upon them. Watch who proves strong enough for the apocalypse, and who falls./1/110827/coverorgin.jpg?v=abfb08fd67cfd1d815ea9d3984447720&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Curse of Bones
This is a terrifying memory I'd rather never speak of again. We were just high school students when the town accidentally unearthed a mass grave. That night, Keegan Wilkerson, the most popular senior, showed up at a party with a trophy: a finger bone he had stolen from the site. He passed the bone around. Everyone wanted to touch it, just to prove they had the guts. A day later, Keegan was bedridden with a raging fever, drifting in and out of consciousness. Then he started counting with his eyes closed. "One... two... three..." He counted endlessly. Soon, everyone who had touched that bone fell ill, in the exact same order. The doctors called it a rare infection. But my grandma said it was a curse, and that Wilkerson was already beyond saving./0/82276/coverorgin.jpg?v=e6e3faee0566a6d13d71608e180e47eb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Kidney He Stole: Ava's Reckoning
Ava Miller, co-founder of AuraSynch and devoted partner to Ethan Reed, believed she had it all. Her decade building their tech empire seemed a testament to enduring love. Then, a latte from Ethan clouded her mind, initiating a nightmare. Trapped, Ava overheard him arranging to harvest her kidney for his ex, Chloe Vance. Frantic whispers revealed Ethan had also forced her to abort their child years ago, all for Chloe. Her world collapsed, realizing the calculated exploitation of her body and love. Ethan' s cold disregard, his abandonment for Chloe' s whims, and Chloe' s taunts highlighted Ava' s utter worthlessness. Even after Ethan intentionally sacrificed her as bait on a bridge, his monstrous cruelty remained. How could the man she loved see her as a disposable resource? The crushing realization ignited an unwavering resolve, extinguishing her foolish affection. Severing all ties, she erased him from her life, resigning and clearing their shared home. With icy determination, Ava made a single call to Ethan' s fiercest rival, launching a shocking new chapter. She emerged not as a victim, but a force ready for public revenge./0/81952/coverorgin.jpg?v=2f119f4a9aee49dbcf2055d59321b181&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Monster They Made Me
My life was perfect. I was Sarah, a loving mom, taking my sweet six-year-old Lily to Kids' Kraft Korner, all smiles and glitter castles. In an instant, my world shattered. A bloodcurdling scream. I raced back inside to find Lily' s lifeless body, her head gone, crafting shears beside her. My heart died. The real nightmare began. My best friend, Jessica, shrieked, pointing at me. Detective Harding arrested me. My own husband, David, abandoned me, highlighting my past postpartum depression. The media branded me a monster; "Suburban Mother Snaps, Murders Daughter" screamed headlines, bolstered by manipulated footage and a janitor's twisted testimony. Under relentless accusations, I plunged into a torturous haze. Dr. Peterson, a psychologist David suggested, hypnotized me. Horrifying images flooded my mind: me, holding the shears, filled with rage, striking Lily. I confessed, truly believing the implanted memory, convinced I was a child killer. The "recalled" physical evidence-Lily' s head, found exactly where I "remembered" it-seemed to seal my monstrous fate. I was lost in self-loathing. Still, even through the despair, a tiny flicker of inner doubt persisted. Could I really have done this? Then, as I was dragged to court, I saw Jessica in the crowd. She wasn't yelling. She was smiling. A small, smug, triumphant smile. It wasn't my madness. That hateful smile ignited something raw. "You did this, Jessica! You set me up!" I screamed, tearing at my restraints. "She's having an affair with my husband! David is the father of her son!" My desperate accusation, fueled by rage, finally started to unravel the terrifying conspiracy, pulling me from the abyss of my false memory./0/85197/coverorgin.jpg?v=351305e1ec8d14847f349945fad35ca5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Surviving Darkness, Loving Fiercely
The Arizona desert stretched endlessly before us, a shimmering ribbon of highway cutting through red rock and scrub. My best friend Emily and I were three days into our cross-country road trip, the initial excitement long gone, replaced by heat and boredom. Then Emily pointed. "Are you seeing this?" Far off the road, a figure stood, impossibly tall, waving. I dismissed it, thinking of a stranded hiker, already slowing the car. But Emily grabbed my arm, her face drained of color, eyes wide with a terror I' d never seen. "Don't get out of the car," she choked out. "Look at its legs." They were too long, bent at a sickening, backward angle. Then it moved, not walking, but scrambling with inhuman, insect-like speed, closing the distance in seconds. "Run!" Emily screamed. "That's not human!" My foot found the gas pedal, tires spitting gravel as we fishtailed onto the highway. It scraped against the trunk, a sickening thud, then impossibly, kept pace, a spindly shadow in the rearview mirror. We were safe, for a moment, after escaping the desert monster, only to have our tires slashed outside a shady garage. The mechanic and his goons tried to corner us, but a deputy' s timely arrival saved us. We thought it was over. We were wrong. News reports followed us home, showing our "Desert Wendigo" was appearing nationwide. The world wasn't safe. And we knew its dark secret./0/86171/coverorgin.jpg?v=fdd6dbcfc388e943284e9435cc81e4b1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Death, Her New Beginning
The city air was thick with sirens, a constant wail that had become the sound of dread. Thirteen brutal murders had everyone locking their doors a little tighter. I never thought the fourteenth would be mine. The call came just after midnight. "Mrs. Miller? This is the police. There's been an incident at your residence." I knew before he said another word: David was gone. A cold, empty space opened up inside me, a vacuum where fear and relief swirled together. When I arrived, the street below our penthouse was a chaotic mess of flashing red and blue lights. Yellow tape cordoned off the building. A crowd of neighbors stood in their pajamas, whispering and pointing up. "I live here. Sarah Miller. My husband..." My voice broke, a perfectly practiced tremor. That' s when I saw him: Detective Mark Johnson, his face a hard, unreadable mask. He didn't offer condolences. He just stared, his tired eyes seeming to miss nothing. Then, a scream cut through the air. Everyone' s head snapped up. High above, on the balcony of our penthouse, a figure stood silhouetted against the night sky - Susan, my mother-in-law. For a heartbeat, she just stood there, a dark shape against the city' s glow. Then she leaned forward and simply stepped off. The sound that followed was wet and final, a sickening thud that echoed off the pavement. It splattered across the clean, sterile crime scene, a graphic, final punctuation mark. I felt a genuine shock ripple through me. My knees buckled and I grabbed the detective' s arm for support. Tears, real this time, streamed down my face. My husband dead upstairs, my mother-in-law a broken thing on the concrete below. It was the perfect picture of a woman shattered by tragedy. Detective Johnson didn't move. He didn't comfort me. He just looked down at my hand on his arm, then back up at my face. His voice was low and steady, cutting through my manufactured sobs. "You did this." I froze. The world seemed to stop spinning. My breath caught in my throat. "What?" I whispered, my voice hoarse. "Your husband. Your mother-in-law," he said, his eyes drilling into me. "The other thirteen. You killed them all, didn't you, Sarah?" It wasn't a question. It was a statement. A certainty so absolute, so unexpected, it almost knocked me off my feet for real. This was not part of the plan. No one was supposed to see past the grieving widow. Inside, a cold, hard knot of fury began to tighten. This man, this stranger, was looking at me and seeing the truth. Or at least, a version of it. "How can you say that?" I cried, pulling my hand back as if I' d been burned. "My husband... my... Susan... they're dead! I just lost everything!" I let my voice rise, pitching it with hysteria and pain. "Detective, have you lost your mind?" I demanded, my voice shaking. "I was at my sister-in-law's house. All night. Call her. Alice. Alice Brown. She'll tell you." He waved the other officer off. His gaze remained locked on me, intense and unwavering. "I don't need to call anyone, Sarah," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I've been on this case from the beginning. Thirteen victims before tonight. A city in fear. But now I see the pattern. They all lead back to you." His certainty was terrifying. It was a solid wall I hadn't expected to hit so soon. He wasn't guessing. He knew something. And in that moment, under the flashing lights, with the scent of death hanging in the air, I knew this was just the beginning. The game was on./0/85849/coverorgin.jpg?v=f9cc615f654be2671953a1b5359269d7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Death's Embrace, Love's Aftermath
The cold, sterile air in the office bit at my prison uniform, a cruel reminder of the past three years. I knelt on the polished floor, my gaze fixed on Daniel Miller' s expensive shoes, a man I once loved for five years. "A convicted felon, trying to seduce me?" his voice, low and laced with familiar cruelty, sent a shiver down my spine. He was now Detective Miller, a powerful figure in the new corporate order, and I was nothing, a "convicted felon" whose parents' assets were seized, their names tarnished. As if that wasn' t enough, he sneered, accusing me of sabotaging his family, ruining Chloe, and pushing her to the brink of suicide. Chloe, his fiancée, my cousin, the one he chose over me when my world crumbled, the one whose father rebuilt his career and became the new CEO. "Silence!" he roared, his fist slamming onto the desk when I tried to deny pushing Chloe. He declared me his personal assistant, more like a maid, even forcing me into a humiliating encounter that left me aching and defeated. Then came the true horror. My uncle, Chloe' s father, the new CEO, had me secretly poisoned, giving me just three months to live. Three months. My back, a roadmap of whip scars from prison, my body frail, I knew I had to survive, not just for revenge, but to reclaim what was mine. I bit my finger, signing my life away, a shaky, bloody promise to turn their world upside down. Now, as the poison courses through my veins, I refuse to be a quiet victim, a disgraced criminal. I will make them pay./0/86501/coverorgin.jpg?v=e82ae785700af378ae9ea5393e88844d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Heart, His Cruel Game
Three years ago, I became the lost heiress to the Sterling fortune. David Sterling, the family' s handsome son, saved me from a dark clinic, spending millions on my recovery. We married, had a son, and our life felt perfect. At our son Anna's first birthday party, David pulled a scalpel from his pocket and, in front of all our guests, cut open our baby's chest. He then ripped out Anna's tiny, beating heart to save Sarah Miller' s daughter. He kicked me hard in the stomach, growling about how I had "manipulated his parents" and that my son "blamed me for being wicked." I lay in a pool of my own blood and despair, forced to watch him walk away with my son's heart. My whole life with David had been a cruel, elaborate plan for revenge. Days later, I was confined to a hospital bed in David' s mansion, not for care, but for harvesting my blood for Sarah. I was subjected to constant humiliation, forced to view videos of my son's murder, my C-section wound tearing open from the pain. David and Sarah paraded their love, while I lay in agony, ridiculed for my weakness. My heart was gone, ripped out just like my son's, leaving a hollowness so vast it swallowed me whole. How could the man I loved, the father of my child, commit such an unspeakable act of depravity? Why was I, an innocent victim, suffering this unimaginable torture? In my deepest despair, I remembered the small, hidden button on the bracelet David had given me. A desperate signal shot out into the world, a cry for help. I just had to survive for three more days./0/18043/coverorgin.jpg?v=a52e20a02bed12cc49c6295c48b4f3e8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Roses for Juliet
When life became too painful Steve walked out and became someone new. For years he buried all of the details of his life and spent his time dealing with the unpleasant details of others. It is a trait others have come to rely on. Steve Roberts became the man who could fix any problem. So when Nick turns up with a dead girl in his bed, Steve is the first one he calls. Getting rid of the body however, proves to be the easy part. Too much about the girl reminds Steve of his own long buried past. Now the past has caught up with him and his carefully crafted world is coming apart at the seams. Can Steve survive the unraveling?/0/41085/coverorgin.jpg?v=3da3d6fa1ae28523ae451668c8a8c255&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Aunt's Horror House
Living in the woods had always been one of his dreams since he was a child, even when his aunt was alive, and thanks to a family inheritance, he finally got it, however, from the first night he spends in his new house, things around him they become dark and terrifying when he realizes the true history of the place, and now, his new task will be to discover how to return peace to the place with the help of his cousins who the first night go to their new home to spend the night with him, and they witness everything that happens there./0/86190/coverorgin.jpg?v=88bfa5d8ee1d0f8067006c7a74516402&imageMogr2/format/webp)
