Horror Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Love, Lies, And A Second Life
The air in the room was stale, thick with the smell of antiseptic and despair. They told me I was sick, that grief had broken my mind. My mother-in-law, Martha, would visit, her concern a chilling mask, whispering to doctors how I was hallucinating, a danger to myself and my son, Billy. "She doesn' t understand that David is gone," she' d insist, loud enough for me to hear. But the real horror wasn't my madness; it was the truth. Three days after my husband, David, a decorated police officer, was supposedly killed, I stood at his memorial, expected to mourn. The man in the casket wasn't David. It was Mark, his identical twin, missing the faded scar David always had. That night, I found David, not dead, but alive in our summer cabin, with his childhood sweetheart, Emily Peterson. He confessed it all with chilling indifference: Mark was killed in a shootout, and David seized the chance for a new life, free from me and Billy. "I never loved you," he said, as if explaining a simple math problem. "It was always Emily." I tried to tell everyone-his mother, his captain-but they looked at me with pity, already conditioned by Martha and David' s lies. They had me committed to a white room, and David married Emily. My four-year-old son, Billy, was left in their care, crying for me every night. Then came the unbearable news: Billy was dead, a "tragic accident" from an overdose of cough medicine. My world shattered. Desperate, I fashioned a noose, remembering Billy' s bright laugh, the life David had stolen. My only regret was that David would never face justice. I kicked the chair away. Darkness took me. Then, a blinding light, and I was back on my living room couch, the day David was supposedly killed. I wasn' t dead. I was back. Martha' s face, a mask of practiced sadness, now held a triumphant curl. I heard David' s voice from the hallway, "Is she stable?" "She' s fragile, but she bought it," Martha replied. "She' ll break, just like we planned. We' ll have her committed, and Billy will be ours." "Good," David said. "Make sure she doesn' t get near the body. Mark didn' t have my scar." This time, I was not the grieving widow. I was the executioner./0/81346/coverorgin.jpg?v=d64b829df42fe7d589c94327b871872e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Mother's Sin
I' ve always known what animals were thinking. It' s a secret I keep, even from my boyfriend. So when my best friend, Chloe, invited me to her cutting-edge Primate Cognition Center, I agreed, expecting just another odd day of animal thoughts. Then I met Brutus. A massive gorilla housed behind thick glass, his thoughts weren't mere animalistic grunts. They were clear, chilling: "Her skin. So smooth. I want it. Tonight. I' ll take it tonight." Hours later, Brutus escaped, his tracker leading straight to my apartment building. Mark was working late, and I was alone. Chloe' s police deputy brother, David, rushed to help. I heard his muffled struggle outside my door, followed by Brutus' s casual thought: "He was strong. Good fight." Then, Brutus used David' s dead body to knock on my door, a gruesome puppet. When Mark called, saying he was coming home, I warned him, but he disconnected. His last terrified thoughts flooded my mind as Brutus ambushed him in the garage. Mark was gone. Brutus was gone. But then "Mark" called me. His voice was off. His behavior was wrong, serving me food I' m deadly allergic to. A horrific truth clicked: Brutus wore Mark' s skin as a grotesque disguise – a calculated revenge against my mother, who had experimented on him. My presence was now the target of his cruel, human-like rage. Chloe arrived at our apartment, yet "Mark" lied about her being late. My gut screamed. I found Chloe on the balcony, bound and gagged. Her terrified plea, once free: "It' s not Mark! It' s Brutus! He' s wearing his skin!" Everything clicked. With a kitchen knife glimmering in "Mark's" hand, it was time to fight for my life./0/86538/coverorgin.jpg?v=0ed6766301f9ecb61662c50ad2fe3a90&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love Drained, Life Reclaimed
For twenty years, all Ava Lewis wanted was to find her biological family, the missing piece of her identity. When her adopted sister, Brittany Miller, beamed and said, "Almost there, Ava. You're going to love our old town. It's where all the family traditions started," Ava believed it was the start of something beautiful. But the moment they stepped out of the car at a secluded, dark cabin, the loving facade shattered. Two burly men appeared, seizing her arms as her "parents" stood by, their faces blank, their smiles gone. "Don't fight it, Ava," Brittany's voice was chillingly cold. "It'll be easier if you just cooperate." Dragged inside, bound to a chair, Ava watched in horror as Brittany approached with a strange, ancient device, a needle glinting. "This is our family tradition," Brittany explained, piercing Ava's chest. "We are connecting your life force to this ancient family relic. It will bring us good fortune and health." Her "parents" chimed in, "It's your duty as our daughter." Ava' s life force drained away with each transfer, leaving her hollow and weak, while her biological family seemingly thrived. But after the forty-ninth transfer, the truth, colder and crueler than any physical pain, was revealed: "That's the point," Brittany whispered, a malicious smile twisting her lips. "This was never about health. It was about your death." Bound, exposed, bleeding, Ava realized she was merely a product, auctioned off to the highest bidder for their depraved entertainment. Then he appeared, "the Master," a man who seemed to stop the horror, only to brand her with her own essence, making her a monument to his family's generational vendetta. But from the depths of betrayal and despair, a burning rage ignited. She might be broken, but she would not be silenced. She was Ava Lewis, and she would make them pay./0/94326/coverorgin.jpg?v=dfb6a02b0805226b467d8ffb5dc54af9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Husband Who Poisoned Our Love
After my tenth miscarriage in five years, I believed my body was broken. My husband, Barron, was my perfect, doting savior who had rebuilt my life after destroying my family's company. Then, I overheard him on the phone. He confessed to poisoning my tea every night, methodically murdering our ten children to repay a debt to his mistress. A life for each year she'd spent in prison for him. My entire world wasn't just a lie-it was a gilded cage built by my family's destroyer. He thought he left me to die in a fire. He was wrong. Now, with a new face, I'm back to burn his empire to the ground./0/80700/coverorgin.jpg?v=11d96be88ceef379ca1b20aef54a051a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Monster in My Sleep
Our wedding invitations were chosen, promising a beautiful future with Mike, my college sweetheart of eight years. Then, Mike arrived, face ashen, eyes haunted. He thrust an envelope at me: "I can't do this, Sarah." Pure terror consumed his face as he fled. That was just the first loop. Friends whispered about "what they saw" and abandoned me. I lost my job to "disturbing incidents." My beloved cat mysteriously died, then my mother collapsed, eyes wide with paralyzing fear. My father, seeing something monstrous in me, whispered, "It's better this way," as he smothered me. Each time, I woke on "breakup day" again, trapped in a horrifying cycle. Everyone I loved vanished, terrified of *me*, yet I had no idea why. What was I? What was happening when I slept that drove them to such profound fear? Desperate, I wired my apartment with hidden cameras. The footage I played back shattered my world: *I* was the monster. Crawling on all fours, vacant eyes, unnatural speed, guttural sounds – it was utterly terrifying./0/61882/coverorgin.jpg?v=65120d33cced1b9865866b3eda79f594&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Revenge Bound on My Father
Here’s the translation of the text into English: When I was fifteen, getting married no longer required a birth certificate. My dad was overjoyed and decisively poisoned my mom. On the day of my mother's funeral, my dad brought home his new wife, whom he had just married. She had red lips and white teeth, stunningly beautiful, a wealthy girl from the city. That night, my dad generously gave me a piece of meat. "Er Niu, from now on, she will be your new mom." "Take good care of her. If she tries to run away, come tell Dad." "For every time you report her, I'll let you have meat once." I swallowed hard and obediently nodded. Later, I pushed my dad to the ground, leaving him in a sorry state. I looked down at him, holding a knife in my hand, and smiled. "Dad, I won't make the same mistake again." "This time, it's either you or me."/0/34959/coverorgin.jpg?v=1ac1514742716dd13cf2367f1ad7099c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Hidden Darkness
With her peculiar undiscovered powers comes a dangerous curse, but how would she know? She only saw herself as a feeble Omega, who is just lonely. Got kicked out by her father, because she wasn't worth to be a werewolf, she was discomfited and loathed him to the core. Her mother demise was already a big blow to her, and she never thought her father was going to replace her mother. In her vulnerable moment, she gave in wholly to her darkness unwittingly, and let her darkness rule her. It was unknown, if she might be the destroyer of the world, or the saviour of the world ........./0/34960/coverorgin.jpg?v=aab11eb22b41e75fa2be0fa8cc67aa4a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Black Eyed Susan
**~~~~ synopsis ~~~~** Her freedom was taken, her dignity was crushed, her heart was shattered, the courage to keep going was shaken. She lost her parents and lost the one person, who stood by her who showered her with nothing but love and care. What will become of her? Good or bad? Will she still be herself again? ~~~~~~~ "What do you think of flowers?" Her grandmother asked out of the blue. "Flowers?...... Flowers are flowers Mama Liya." She smiled smugly and shook her head. "Have you ever heard of Black Eyed Susan?" Her grandmother asked again. "No. "Why all these questions Mama Liya?" She raised her eye brows and stretched her neck. She wasn't in the mood to know about any flowers at all, not when they are more important things to face right now. "I guess you are dumb in some aspects hun." Mama Liya mocked. Jane just rolled her eyes. "Who in the world spent alot of times learning about flowers?" "People who are dumb like you." Her grandmother said sarcastically and laughed lightly. Mama Liya wanted to motivate Jane again, cause she thought her granddaughter's hope was fading due to the things happening. "Black Eyed Susan is a flower, a special strong flower to be precise. Am telling you this because, I want you to have the spirit of a Black Eyed Susan. It a flower that symbolizes courage, strong will, justice, truth, and strength. "It has the power to survive anywhere, despite if the weather conditions are harsh. "So, I want you to use this to guide your life. It okay to get hurt, but don't get hurt for the same thing again." She advised her precious granddaughter and kissed the crown of her head. Jane actually thought that, Mama Liya will utter a tedious talk but was cut surprise. She was confounded. " Really? I didn't know flowers also has important meaning in life. But........." She paused and sighed. "I don't know if I can be like that. I mean am weak and meek, so am definitely sure I can't survive in this harsh and cruel world." Jane was sure she won't survive in this harsh world, and she wasn't ready to face any more problems, so she was certain the theme of a Black eyed Susan won't go for her. ~~~~~~/0/82330/coverorgin.jpg?v=867bbca1e75457cd423857f5904193d6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Havenwood's Dark Blessing
The Seattle rain washed away the dust of our suffocating hometown, Havenwood, as my sister Emily and I embraced college life, finally free. Then Dad' s call came, urgent and raspy: Mom was gravely sick, and we had to come home. But Havenwood wasn't sick, it was dead quiet, shrouded by the sinister "Harvest Maiden" festival, and we found Mom locked away, bruised, forced into a lie. Our father, driven by his own failing health, was willingly sacrificing us, his daughters, to a ritual that wasn' t a blessing, but a monstrous con: a horrifying exchange where health was stolen from newborn babies, twisting life into grotesque old sickness. Witnessing a "cured" mother gain youth as a healthy infant withered before our eyes, and hearing Pastor Thorne declare we were next, a chilling rage consumed me; trapped, we had to expose this unspeakable evil before it devoured us all./1/115424/coverorgin.jpg?v=6ffe408ff79bb3ac41d0f2ba96284065&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Taming My Vicious Feral Wolf Slave
Kaylee woke up to the smell of rotting leaves and blood, realizing she had transmigrated into the grimdark fantasy novel she was reading last night. A robotic system in her head immediately delivered a death sentence: she was the tribe's vicious cannon fodder, and the male lead—a brutally tortured slave named Elijah—was currently dying on a totem pole outside. "If he dies, you will face instant soul-detonation." Kaylee rushed to the plaza, using her villainous authority to stop the execution and drag his mangled body back to her hut. But saving him was a nightmare. The original owner's sadism had traumatized him so deeply that her gentle touches and clean bandages only triggered his PTSD. His feral energy spiraled out of control, his golden eyes burning with paranoid terror as he waited for a new, twisted psychological game. To keep his energy from detonating and killing them both, Kaylee was forced to act like a monster. "I didn't save you because I care. A dead slave is useless to me." Only her cruel insults and threats of future torture calmed his broken mind. Adding to her despair, she stumbled upon the novel's supposedly innocent heroine in the forest, only to hear her system detect a terrifying anomaly. The fragile heroine had her own cheat system. Trapped with a paranoid future-tyrant and a rival player manipulating the tribe's strongest warriors, Kaylee shoved a bowl of hot stew at the bleeding slave with a mocking sneer. To survive this hell, she had to play the villain perfectly./0/82338/coverorgin.jpg?v=75e261a6597fa411888c28e1c836ab71&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Husband's Deadly Game
I was just days from my due date, nesting in our Bay Area home, full of anticipation for the arrival of our child with my beloved husband, Ethan. Without warning, I woke up blindfolded, hands bound, struggling for air in a damp, cold forest, my heavily pregnant body pressed painfully against the earth. Over hidden speakers, I heard Ethan's voice, transformed from loving husband to callous ringmaster, casually discussing a brutal "performance art" with his mistress, Chloe, and acknowledging my water had broken. He then ordered agonizing electric shocks, bet ten million dollars on my death, and unleashed vicious dogs before I was dragged to a makeshift table for a forced C-section, sans anesthesia, all for their twisted amusement. How could the man who once wore a simple silver locket, a symbol of our shared journey from nothing, now orchestrate such monstrous betrayal, turning his pregnant wife and our unborn child into pawns in a deadly, public spectacle? After enduring unimaginable tortures and surviving a coma, I miraculously awakened, not to forgive, but to ensure that the man who stole my child and desecrated my love would face consequences, and I would finally find a fragile peace far from his shadow./1/113161/coverorgin.jpg?v=fb1fa9e40ee7116bd1c313d460c04162&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late For Regret, Mr. Billionaire
When I was being torn apart alive by starving dogs in an abandoned warehouse, my fiancé Forrest was drinking whiskey in our penthouse. I had called him begging for help when the serial killer cornered me, but he just yelled at me over the loud party music. "I never want to hear your voice again," he had snarled, before hanging up and leaving me to die. After my brutal death, my soul was dragged back to our shared home. I watched Forrest pull his new lover, Evelin, into his arms, letting her wear my clothes while my blood was still wet on the concrete. When the police showed him photos of my blood-soaked purse and the absolute carnage of the crime scene, he didn't shed a single tear. "She's faking it," he sneered to the detective. "She probably bought pig's blood to stage this little play just to force me to marry her." He completely erased five years of my devotion, reducing my horrific murder to a pathetic, jealous tantrum. I couldn't understand how he could be so cruel, abandoning me in the freezing rain while I was pregnant with his child just to comfort Evelin. But as my ghostly form floated above my own corpse, the terrifying truth finally hit me. Evelin hadn't just stolen my fiancé. She had deliberately dressed me in a floral gown, knowing it was the exact trigger for a local serial killer, and spoofed Forrest's phone to lure me into the trap. They think they have won, burying my existence under perfect lies. But as a dark, violent energy begins to pulse through my translucent hands, they are about to learn a terrifying lesson. A woman scorned is dangerous, but a murdered woman is a force of nature./0/60601/coverorgin.jpg?v=59adda3b4949c83d0b314a8802ab492f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Blood-Infused Tea
I sell a special type of tea in a tea room. This tea, when added to food, makes it incredibly delicious and addictive, like a drug. Countless high-end restaurant owners come to me seeking it out. But I know that this tea is made by watering the plants with the blood of addicted individuals./1/116731/coverorgin.jpg?v=fd2f77d156e412019a1af80b099a234e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Substitute Marriage: My Lethal Comatose Husband
At seven years old, I hid in a closet and watched a man stab my mother to death before setting the room on fire. I survived, changed my name, and spent fifteen years hiding in a rundown garage behind a hideous, fake red birthmark. My fragile peace shattered when my biological father, Declan Thorne, suddenly tracked me down. He didn't come to save me from poverty, but to sell me. He and my half-sisters forced me to marry Sterling Montgomery, a wealthy heir who had been in a coma for six months. They needed my "ugly, bastard" status to unlock a massive trust fund, fully expecting me to spend the rest of my life rotting beside a dying corpse. They laughed at my cheap clothes and disfigured face, locking me in a room to ensure I wouldn't ruin their payday. "You have no right to refuse. I gave you life. This is how you pay me back." They thought I was just a terrified, pathetic pawn they could easily control. They didn't know I was the sole disciple of an underground medical genius, and I had deliberately let them sell me to use the Montgomery family's impenetrable fortress as my shield. When I finally stood alone in the medical wing, I checked my comatose husband's pulse, only to realize his failing vitals were entirely faked. As I reached out to rip off his oxygen mask, the "dying" man suddenly shot up from the bed, his hand clamping around my throat with lethal force./0/86558/coverorgin.jpg?v=fb170803f1cbe3385c6022cf3a6a6f5f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Identity Was Stolen
The last thing I felt was the pillow smothering my face, the cheap floral scent filling my lungs as my struggles grew weaker. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Ms. Davis' s chilling hiss: "You crazy girl, how dare you disrupt the young lady' s party! I' ll kill you!" She wasn' t lying. My life, so bright just hours before, was ending in a dark, dusty storage room. It all began on my graduation day, Sarah Miller, the valedictorian, standing on stage. But when I arrived at my family home for the lavish celebration, the doors were shut, my key wouldn' t turn. Inside, through the window, I saw Emily Davis, my guardian' s daughter, wearing my dress, accepting congratulations from my friends, being called by my name. A cold wave of nausea washed over me. I pounded on the door, screaming, "Let me in! I' m Sarah Miller! That' s an imposter!" No one believed me. They saw a frantic, disheveled girl and a poised, elegant young woman inside. Ms. Davis slapped me, shrieking, "How dare you disrupt the young lady' s party! I' ll kill you!" They dragged me away, threw me into a windowless storage room, and locked me in. Hours later, Ms. Davis returned with a pillow. "You just couldn' t leave it alone, could you?" she whispered. "You make too much noise." Then, she pushed it down. My consciousness dissolved into suffocating blackness. Then, I gasped, shooting upright. Sunlight streamed through a familiar window. I was in my bed, in my room at the Davis house. My heart pounded. The floral scent was gone. No pain, no darkness. My phone rang, a shrill, insistent sound. The screen lit up with a date. It was the day my college admission results were announced. I wasn' t dead. I was back./0/40489/coverorgin.jpg?v=2fad16e6803251532dbdd97098e5ffa5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Grandes High School (Leslie)
Leslie Felicia ... a 17-year-old teenager who was forced to change schools because she followed her parents. Grandes High School is the school Leslie chose because it is the closest to her apartment. But unexpectedly, her presence at school was not expected by all her classmates. Every day they bullied Leslie, hoping she would leave the school soon. Leslie feels increasingly miserable at her new school, especially after she finds out that the school is very haunted and full of curious ghosts that inhabit it. Leslie's life changes completely when a mysterious teacher discovers her secret that she is an indigo girl. Leslie could not refuse when the teacher asked for her help to calm and return the curious ghosts to their realm. This is the story of Leslie Felicia ... a teenager who can see and communicate with invisible creatures .../0/40490/coverorgin.jpg?v=8ea6f48cd3b6432b454decc52f03f8b2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Grandes High School (Angie)
Angie Megan ... a woman who was born into a family of psychics. She is frustrated at not having the ability to see and communicate with ghosts, so different from her father and grandfather. To hone her skills, she chose to study at the Grandes High School which is famous for its awesomeness. Her life changes when she meets a girl named Sylvia who can see and seal ghosts. Their friendship begins and together they seal the ghost that is plaguing the students of Grandes High School. Until one day Sylvia mysteriously died and Angie could feel that Sylvia's spirit still haunted Grandes High School. Angie is determined to find out the truth even though she has to involve her student and now best friend, Leslie. Together ... Angie and Leslie try to appease the curious spirits, not the spirits that roam freely in Grandes High School, but the spirits that Sylvia used to seal. How will Angie and Leslie's struggle solve the ghost's problem? Can Angie succeed in uncovering the truth of Sylvia's mysterious death and finding her ghost that still haunts? Find the answer in their story. NB: This story is a sequel to the first series Grandes High School (Leslie)/0/25241/coverorgin.jpg?v=8ec021c5f7db6858de110ac9cc839801&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Sad Murder
Anna Greg is an eighteen years old young adult who just got admission into her dream campus in another city far away from home. She thought everything was great not until few weeks after she moved into her new apartment, she began having an odd feeling that someone was stalking her. She narrated her ordeal to her friends but no one ever believed her until her boyfriend was murdered right in her apartment. The death of her boyfriend changed not only her life but that of every of her loved ones. She is left to save herself from the serial killer who had murdered her boyfriend and was still after her life./0/76829/coverorgin.jpg?v=cfeab79fca656b1e755ab72f0235fa97&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Silent Ward
INTRODUCTION The Silent Ward They say hospitals are places of healing. But in the dead hours of the night-when the fluorescent lights flicker and the halls echo with nothing but the wheeze of machines-they become something else entirely. Groote Schuur Hospital stood like a sentinel on the hill, its white walls soaked in a century of suffering, silence, and secrets. Patients came and went. Some were healed. Some weren't. But a few-just a few-disappeared. Ward 17B doesn't appear on any maps. No signs point to it. No records mention its name. The door was sealed shut in 1984, after something happened inside that no one was willing to explain. Until now. Detective Siya Ndlovu never wanted to come back. Not to this place. Not to this city. Not to the memories she buried the day her twin sister Asanda vanished from Groote Schuur without a trace. But when bodies begin piling up with no cause of death-just eyes wide open and mouths stretched in silent screams-Siya is drawn into a case that feels too close to home. As the investigation deepens, she uncovers whispers of a government project buried beneath hospital floors, of experiments that cracked the human mind and opened something that should've stayed shut. They called it Project Threnody./0/40492/coverorgin.jpg?v=3620d89226d07cd5a9b5d111efbbba44&imageMogr2/format/webp)
