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Mafia Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
A Second Chance With Mr. Blackwood

A Second Chance With Mr. Blackwood

In the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse, my skin blistered and peeled. Through the crackling fire, my sister Elara's malicious voice echoed. She told me my husband, Damien, was dead, and it was all my fault. For years, I had treated Damien like a monster. I fought him, threw tantrums, and desperately tried to escape our marriage, all because I blindly followed Elara's advice. "Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get." She texted me things like that, telling me to smash vases over his head and run away, claiming she was protecting me. In reality, she was poisoning my mind, stealing my valedictorian spot at university, and plotting to crawl into my billionaire husband's bed. My foolish rebellion cost me everything, ultimately leading to Damien's tragic death and my own fiery end. As the massive explosion tore my consciousness to shreds, I finally understood who truly loved me and who the real monster was. I died suffocating on my own agonizing regret, wishing I could tear Elara apart. Then, a rush of freezing air punched into my lungs. I opened my eyes to the crisp scent of cedar and mint. I was back seven years ago, on the very night our marriage was supposed to go to hell. This time, looking at Damien's flawless, unscarred face, I didn't push him away. I wrapped my arms around his neck and made a silent vow: I would make every single person who ever hurt him bleed.
The Abandoned Heiress Is A Secret Zillionaire

The Abandoned Heiress Is A Secret Zillionaire

Seventeen years after going missing, Brooklyn was finally brought back to her ultra-wealthy biological family. But instead of a tearful reunion, her parents and sisters treated her like infectious garbage, mocking her cheap clothes and calling her a country bumpkin. They dumped her into a remedial class to hide her away, cut off her allowance, and threatened to lock down her trust fund to force her into absolute submission. One night, Brooklyn stood in the shadows of the estate and overheard a conversation that shattered everything. She hadn't wandered off as a child. Her parents had deliberately thrown her away because a fake fortune teller claimed her birth chart was a jinx to the family's wealth. They felt zero remorse, only plotting to banish her again the moment she turned eighteen. Her biological father thought he was putting a leash on a helpless, uneducated girl by cutting off her pocket change. He had no idea that Brooklyn was the anonymous VIP who casually dropped sixty million dollars on an emerald at the city's most exclusive auction. He didn't know she was the elusive medical genius that the world's most powerful billionaires were currently tearing the city apart to find. The last microscopic shred of hope for a family withered into cold ash in her chest. "Lock down my trust fund?" She pulled out her encrypted phone and activated her shadow networks, severing herself entirely from their pathetic surveillance. Since they believed she was a jinx, she was going to show them exactly what a real curse looked like.
Claimed By The Ruthless Dark Mafia Don

Claimed By The Ruthless Dark Mafia Don

I was the untouchable Mafia Queen, but my reign ended in the blood-soaked depths of a damp dungeon. My half-sister, Kelsey, drove a rusted, sharpened spoon into my chest, screaming about the unfairness of fate. In my past life, my father sold me to the ruthless Don Dante Blackwell as collateral to pay off his debts. To survive, I took a black-market fertility drug, birthed his heir, and clawed my way to the throne through sheer ruthlessness. But in the mafia world, a pregnant woman isn't a queen; she's a walking target. I survived countless bombings and poisonings, only to be betrayed and slaughtered by my own family. Until my last breath, I couldn't understand. I had sacrificed everything to secure our survival in the empire. Why did my blood and tears only earn me a rusted spoon to the heart? Opening my eyes again, I am seventeen, sitting in my father's drawing room. Two black velvet boxes sit on the mahogany table. Kelsey greedily snatches the box containing the fertility drug, her eyes gleaming with feverish triumph. "I'll take this one, Papa." She thinks she is stealing my golden ticket to the crown, completely unaware that she just chose a death sentence. I lower my gaze, letting my eyelashes mask the cold, lethal amusement pooling in my eyes as I take the remaining box. Inside is the detailed psychological profile of the Don's dead fiancée. This time, I won't be a breeding mare fighting off assassins. I will dissect the devil himself.