Mafia Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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His Discarded Wife Was The Real Boss
I spent fifteen years building my husband's mafia empire, coding the complex algorithms that washed his blood money clean. But on my thirty-fifth birthday, instead of a gift, I received a photo of his hand resting on another woman's thigh. When I confronted him, Dustin didn't apologize. He brought his pregnant mistress, Jami, into our penthouse and told me to accept the hush money. "You have nothing except what I give you," he sneered, treating me like a slow servant rather than the mastermind behind his success. The argument turned violent. He shoved me hard, sending me crashing into a solid oak nightstand. As I lay on the floor, bleeding and dizzy from a split forehead, I watched the man I loved step over my body to comfort the woman wearing my mother's stolen heirloom ring. He didn't check my pulse. He didn't call for help. He looked at me with pure disgust and turned his back. In that moment, the wife died, and the witness was born. He thought I was powerless because I had no assets in my name. He thought I would fade away quietly. He forgot one crucial detail: I wasn't just the furniture in his castle. I was the architect. Every server, every encrypted drive, every hidden account—I owned the code. I wiped the blood from my face and walked out the door, but I didn't go to a lawyer. I went to a hardware store and bought a ten-pound sledgehammer. I wasn't going to just leave him. I was going to delete him./1/101681/coverorgin.jpg?v=36fb4fef058532f4475c2f7d9d42ca28&imageMogr2/format/webp)
I Married My Ex-husband's Beloved Woman's Father After Being Betrayed
My mother, Mary Willis, was bitten by a snake, and the snake's owner was none other than Jennifer Walker, my husband's beloved woman. When I called my husband, Timothy Rossi, he was on vacation with Jennifer. "Please come back, Timothy. Mary's condition is very serious." But he merely sighed and soothed me as if I were throwing a tantrum. "I'm in Arngueuil Isles with Jennifer right now. She's been feeling down lately..." So Timothy ignored my humble plea and resolutely hung up the phone. At that moment, all my strength crumbled to dust. In despair, I could only cling to the hem of the man in front of me-Samuel Walker, Jennifer's father, a notoriously ruthless and brutal Mafia boss./1/118264/coverorgin.jpg?v=58185d0eb48488249e3bca814b59bf89&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Locked in the Glass Sunroom
At eight months pregnant, I was locked inside the sweltering glass sunroom of my own estate. My husband's "sweet" adopted sister, Sophie, stood in the cool air on the other side, sipping ice water as she watched the midday sun bake me alive. When I shattered the glass to escape, my husband—a ruthless syndicate boss—finally returned. Sophie immediately dropped to the floor, faking tears and claiming I had gone mad and attacked her. Without a word of concern for my bleeding feet or my frantic pleas for a doctor, Dominic dragged me down to a windowless basement cell. "She needs to sweat this fever out of her." He turned the heat up to a scorching roar and locked the heavy iron door. In that dark, roasting oven, I cramped and bled out on the concrete floor. I lost my baby, and my body was so traumatized I could never carry a child again. Lying in a pool of my own blood, the truth finally pierced through my blind gratitude. Dominic had staged the accident that brought us together just to infiltrate my family. He never loved me; he only wanted to steal my empire and replace me with his mistress once he thought my protective older brother was dead. With the last of my strength, I dipped my fingers into my blood and wrote "Vengeance" on the steel wall. Just then, an explosion shook the foundation, and the door was blown off its hinges. My brother, very much alive, stepped through the smoke./0/92452/coverorgin.jpg?v=1fd638539e4f58a48e422f27515b9026&imageMogr2/format/webp)
After My Fiancé Sent Me to the Mafia's Bed I Sent Him to Hell
On the cruise ship, my fiancé's beloved, Cathy Begum, botched an important performance, which angered the mafia group behind it. The mafia's leader, Nate Adams, declared he would ruin Cathy's piano-playing hands. My fiancé, Chris Dobson, seemed unconcerned, focusing on feeding me soup. However, I fainted soon. When I awoke, I found myself naked and bound to the bed in Nate's room. Chris was tenderly holding Cathy's hands, his face filled with concern. "Cathy makes her living with her hands. I can't just watch them get ruined. You just need to stay with Nate for one night, and once he's calmed down, I'll come get you." I snorted with derision. "What makes you think Nate will calm down? What if he gets even angrier?"/1/101682/coverorgin.jpg?v=9f20351519d47f160a7449848883b6c2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Spring Beneath the Grave
Elora Griffiths was on her way to drop her daughter off at school when her husband's enemies opened fire in the street. The bodyguard her husband had personally assigned to protect them abandoned the car the instant the shots rang out. Mother and daughter were hit multiple times, teetering on the brink of death. Elora frantically called her husband, Rodger Griffiths, but he didn't answer. Her brother, Hugh Dale, arrived just in time and saved them both. "How could this happen? Didn't Rodger assign someone to protect you?" Hugh asked. Elora sobbed uncontrollably, "The bodyguard ran away!" On the way to the hospital, Elora kept trying Rodger's number, desperate. One call after another... Finally, on the ninety-ninth attempt, the line connected. On the other end was the female bodyguard, trembling, her voice barely holding back tears. "Rodger, it's really not my fault! There were so many assassins. I would've died if I tried to stop them! I was so scared..." Elora held her breath, waiting for her husband's wrath to thunder down. But Rodger just sighed. "Forget it. The important thing is you're safe," he said. Meanwhile, Elora's daughter took her last breath in her arms. The pain was suffocating. She held her daughter close as her body went cold and stiff, teeth gritted in fury, "Hugh, I'm divorcing him! I'll cut off every single arms shipment to the Griffiths family from the largest arms company in Crownport!"/0/79468/coverorgin.jpg?v=71de16d670f71b51b5263b331c697d3d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Addicted To You (Morte Nera)
Rated 18+. This story is dark, intense, and dangerously addictive. "Do you miss me, Bella... Mia?" She could recognize that voice even in her sleep. She stood frozen, looking at him with wide eyes. "W... what..." "What the hell are you doing in my house?!" she asked, his eyes moving across her body, especially on her exposed legs. He suddenly stood on his feet, and she moved back, his presence affecting her. "What happened to your elbow?" he asked. "Why should I tell you that? I owe you no explanation," she said, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze. He took three long strides towards her before pinning her to the wall, his hot breath fanning her neck. Lexi could feel her heart pounding in her chest as her eyes met his ocean-blue eyes. She hated to deny it, but he had grown much more handsome than before. A slow smirk appeared on his lips as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Lexi shook, trying to push him off, but he stood gallantly like a statue, his height towering above her. "Let me... go... now," her voice hoarse. "I hate repeating myself, Lexi. You might wanna start talking," he said in a warning tone, but she didn't reply. He suddenly gripped her two arms and raised them above her head, pinning them tightly to the wall. "Let go of me," she said. His right hand snaked under the towel, and she gasped when she felt his hands between her thighs. "You always want it the hard way, don't you, Bella... Mia?" he said as his hands traced her sensitive skin. --- A mafia king, Antonio Saint Claire, holds Lexi Thompson, a detective, captive in a toxic game. Now she must play by his rules to preserve her sanity. Will she break free from his toxic grasp or be consumed?/0/64763/coverorgin.jpg?v=c932707ce0d0a1a1c20976fdeabdd47c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shadow of Yesterday
Jessica is living her life peacefully with her husband, Adam Peterson, when a creep shows up at her work place and sneaks a photo of her. Soon after that, an infamous boss of a drug cartel, Hugo Ortiz, arrives at her workplace with an army of guards. He calls her "Camila" and asks her to leave with him. She does not remember the man at all. She realizes that her husband had been keeping things from her. Upon digging deeper, she finds out that she had been married to Hugo Ortiz. It didn't take long for Hugo's enemies to use her as a target. Ivan Volkov, the most feared name of the bratva, has been sniffing for an opportunity to get his hands on Hugo and have his revenge for killing his only son. Jessica finds herself caught in the crossfire of a gang war while she struggles to remember how she ended up in Nebraska. What is the reality of her "husband"? Who is Hugo Ortiz? Why doesn't she remember any of this? When she actually stumbles upon the answers to her questions, a part of her preferred living in blissful ignorance rather than stepping back into the world of blood and misery./0/66328/coverorgin.jpg?v=61756f0fa96440cabe4a5f5c922fb1c9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Contract Not To Fall In Love
Lucas's eyes blazed with fury, his gaze fixed on Victor. "No Smith will ever bow to a Blackwood." "Should I consider this the beginning of a war?" Victor asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Ethan Smith's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched in frustration. "What are you talking about, Blackwood?" Julian Smith stepped forward, his voice calm and measured. "Wait, our fathers had decided that to maintain peace between our families, our only sister, Ivy, should be married to Victor. We must think about our business and reputation, so this agreement will continue." Lucas Smith's face twisted in disgust. "Brother, you can't be serious. You want Ivy to marry this...this..." Victor's smile grew wider. "Watch your mouth, Smith. I'm not exactly thrilled about marrying your precious Ivy Elizabeth either. It was my father's decision, not mine." Lucas sneered. "Since when do you follow your father's decisions, Blackwood?" Victor's smirk returned, his eyes glinting with triumph. "I look forward to our union, Ivy Elizabeth." Victor Blackwood's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he turned to Ethan Smith. "Now that we've settled the agreement, let's finalize the engagement date. Time is of the essence, and I have little patience for prolonged celebrations. Next week would be ideal. My bride, Ivy Elizabeth, will be arriving shortly. See that she's prepared, Ethan." With that, Victor strode away, leaving Ethan seething with resentment. Ethan's fists clenched, his anger simmering just below the surface. "That scoundrel has been watching Ivy for years, and we were oblivious to it." Victor's voice drifted back, his tone dripping with possessiveness. "I have every right to keep an eye on what's mine." Ivy Smith is forced to marry Victor Blackwood, a ruthless and cunning man, due to a business agreement between their families. Despite her initial resistance, Ivy tries to make the best of the situation, but Victor's true nature soon reveals itself. He's cruel, manipulative, and has a hidden agenda. Ivy's brothers, Ethan, Lucas, and Julian, are fiercely protective of her, but they're also bound by the agreement. As Ivy navigates her new reality, she must find a way to survive Victor's abuse and manipulation while plotting her escape and revenge. The story is a dark, twisted tale of love, family, and power, with Ivy at its center, fighting for her freedom and her life./1/102622/coverorgin.jpg?v=e64c4836121d85a85aadd155b0a48ba1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Not Her: The Shadow Bride's Great Escape
I was the invisible daughter of a low-level mobster until Ethan Cole, the city’s most terrifying Don, plucked me from the streets. He claimed it was love at first sight. He married me, draped me in vintage diamonds, and treated me like a fragile porcelain doll. I thought I was living a fairytale until I found the secret room in his library. It was filled with photos of a dead woman named Olivia. A woman who had my hair, my eyes, and my face. I wasn't his soulmate. I was a replacement part for a broken machine. When I became pregnant, Ethan didn't hug me. He placed a possessive hand on my stomach and whispered, "The heir." He didn't see me. He only saw an incubator for a ghost's legacy. My father tried to warn me and died for it. I realized that once I gave Ethan this child, I would be trapped in his gilded cage forever, a broodmare for a man in love with a corpse. So, I did the unthinkable. I walked into a clinic and paid cash to remove the one thing he valued more than his empire. I went home, collapsed on the marble floor in a pool of blood, and looked up at the monster who thought he owned me. "I lost it," I screamed, tearing at his lapels. "I lost our baby!" I watched his heart break, knowing I had just declared war./0/99337/coverorgin.jpg?v=29a07b8c9d342bbe205858521dfc8bad&imageMogr2/format/webp)
