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Modern Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Dangerous Office Romance With My Husband

Dangerous Office Romance With My Husband

Breanne was secretly married to Gabriel Baldwin, the icy and ruthless CEO of Aura Design. To the rest of the company, they were nothing more than bitter professional enemies. But during the most important executive board meeting of her career, Gabriel completely crossed the line. He ruthlessly tore apart her eco-friendly resort design, publicly rejecting weeks of her sleepless nights as financially unviable and forcing her to start from scratch. The public humiliation instantly made her a target. Vicious office rumors spread like wildfire, claiming Breanne had plagiarized her designs and was sleeping with partners to climb the corporate ladder. While she fought off toxic colleagues, Gabriel's private behavior grew dangerously possessive. When a wealthy client sent her roses, Gabriel cornered her in a stalled elevator, leaving a bruised bite mark on her neck. "You belong to me, Breanne. I don't share." Breanne was pushed to her absolute breaking point. She couldn't understand why the man who shared her bed was intentionally destroying her professional reputation, only to act like a jealous, suffocating dictator in private. Why was he torturing her like this? Just as she was ready to snap and walk away from it all, Gabriel summoned her to his top-floor office. Instead of another reprimand, he slid a highly classified, red-stamped file across his mahogany desk. He hadn't rejected her project to humiliate her-he had brutally killed the pitch to protect her from a career-ending corporate spy.
The Discarded Wife Is A Billionaire

The Discarded Wife Is A Billionaire

The DNA test in my hands felt like a death sentence. 0% match. After three years of marriage to billionaire Joseph Villarreal, the truth was out: I wasn't the heiress everyone thought I was. My mother-in-law, Buna, marched into the study with a team of lawyers and threw the divorce papers at me. "You're a fraud, Giselle," she sneered. "The Woods family has cut you off. You are a parasite we are finally removing." I looked at Joseph, praying for a spark of the man I loved. But he just sat there, cold and immaculate, exhaling a plume of cigar smoke that felt like a wall between us. "Sign it," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "This marriage was a business transaction. The product I purchased was fraudulent." They didn't just take my home; they stripped me of my dignity. They forced me to hand over my anniversary necklace and yank the wedding ring off my finger, claiming the stone belonged to the "real" daughter, Clydie. Joseph watched with total indifference as I was kicked out into a torrential storm. I collapsed in the mud halfway down the driveway, clutching a broken suitcase, twenty-three years old and completely alone. I didn't understand how three years of devotion could be worth zero to him. He didn't even hate me; he just saw me as a depreciated asset. As I sobbed in the rain, I realized the man I had given my heart to never existed. But Joseph didn't know that the "fake" he threw away was actually the long-lost daughter of the Hines global empire. Six years later, I am no longer the girl crying in the mud. I am Dr. Mandy, the world's top neurosurgeon and a billionaire in my own right. When a little boy with Joseph’s espresso-colored eyes approached me in the hospital and begged me to save his father, I realized the man who ruined me was finally in my hands.
Contract Marriage To My Boss's Rival

Contract Marriage To My Boss's Rival

For seven years, I was Grant Charles’s shadow—his top executive assistant by day and the woman in his bed by night. I managed his billion-dollar empire and handled his every crisis, believing our bond was the one thing his money couldn't buy. Everything shattered when I walked into his penthouse and found Aimee Austin sitting on his lap, wearing nothing but his favorite white dress shirt. Grant didn't even look guilty; he just stared at me with cold, arrogant eyes and told me I was dripping rain on his expensive Persian rug. When I tried to resign, he showed me exactly how cruel he could be. He knew I had drained my life savings to pay for my mother’s specialized care for her dementia. "Without my salary and the foundation subsidy, she’ll be on the street in a month," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. "Is your pride really worth her life?" He didn't stop there. He tried to break my spirit by publicly humiliating me at a high-end restaurant, orchestrating a "setup" to show me that without his protection, I was nothing more than a common servant. He wanted me to realize that without him, I was a nobody with no future. I couldn't believe the man I had protected for nearly a decade was weaponizing my dying mother to keep me as his subordinate. He thought he owned every inch of me, and he was waiting for me to come crawling back on my knees to beg for my old life. But Grant made one fatal mistake: he assumed I was a charity case. He had no idea I was the secret heir to the billion-dollar Klein Trust, currently frozen behind a single marriage clause. I didn't need his money; I just needed a husband. Instead of begging for my job, I walked straight into the office of the only man Grant feared—the ruthless litigator Julian Vance. I threw a marriage contract on his desk and gave him an offer he couldn't refuse. It was time to stop being a shadow and start a war.
Sold To The Devil I Ruined

Sold To The Devil I Ruined

Fitzgerald Woodard was the "stray" I used to torment in prep school, a boy I once paid to kneel in the mud for my amusement. Now, the tables have turned, and he’s the billionaire who bought my father’s debt, dragging me into his mansion as a "personal asset" listed in a contract I never read. He didn't just want the money back; he wanted to see me break. He stood over me in the rain and told me he owned the very machines keeping my father alive, and with one flick of his thumb, he could stop his breathing forever. The nightmare escalated until I didn't recognize myself. He forced me to eat cold soup off the floor like an animal and gripped my hand over a heavy hammer, forcing me to crush a young guard's bones just to prove I was as much of a monster as he was. His childhood sweetheart, a nurse I once humiliated, stood in the shadows, whispering that I was nothing more than a used-up toy he was already bored of. I lay on the cold marble, shivering from a fever he refused to treat, realizing that the curse he placed on me years ago had finally come true. Every act of cruelty I had ever committed was being repaid with interest, and the man I once looked down on was now the only god I had left to pray to. Suddenly, he threw me out into the freezing night with nothing but rags on my back and a shattered phone. The hospital called with an ultimatum: fifty thousand dollars by noon, or they pull the plug on my father’s life support. Standing barefoot on the biting asphalt, I watched his black SUV disappear into the dark. I have nine hours to save the only person I love, and only one way to get the money. I have to go back and kneel before the devil I created.
The Substitute Bride's Lethal Secret

The Substitute Bride's Lethal Secret

I was dragged back to the wealthy Hayes family years after they threw me out like garbage. The matriarch ordered me to take my sister's place and marry Alaric Montgomery, a ruthless CEO rumored to be on his deathbed. "If you refuse, I will have your mother's grave dug up by tomorrow morning." They wanted to use me as a superstitious blood sacrifice so their precious golden child wouldn't have to become a young widow. My stepmother and sister mocked my cheap clothes and sprayed toxic chemicals in my face, treating me like a disposable pawn meant to die quietly in the Montgomery estate. But while they were laughing, I hacked into the top-tier medical network and discovered the truth. Alaric wasn't dying of a terminal illness; he was suffering from a highly lethal neurotoxin. Worse, I found out the Montgomery family was deeply involved in the orchestrated car crash that murdered my mother, and they were currently hunting down her sacred healing pendant. My family thinks I am just a weak, illiterate country bumpkin who will cry and accept her miserable fate. They have no idea that I am actually "The Surgeon," the legendary underground doctor that Alaric is burning billions of dollars to find. Wearing my faded hoodie and worn combat boots, I calmly stepped into the Montgomery family's fleet of Rolls-Royces. They think they are sending a helpless lamb to the slaughter. They don't realize they just invited an apex predator into the lion's den.
The Silent Bride's Billion Dollar Contract

The Silent Bride's Billion Dollar Contract

My bank account showed exactly $42.18, and my student loan notifications were flashing red. I lived in a sweltering Queens apartment with my Aunt Lydia, where the air was thick with the smell of stale frying oil and the constant threat of being homeless. Lydia handed me a grainy photo of a man twice my age and told me she had already "sold" me to him. He was a dry cleaner looking for a wife, and in exchange for my hand, he would pay off her credit cards and my debt. If I didn't show up for the date that night, my boxes would be on the curb by midnight. I arrived at the cafe in a state of panic, my selective mutism making it impossible to even breathe. In the crowded room, I accidentally sat at the wrong table. Instead of the man from the photo, I found myself facing Gerhard Holcomb—the cold, terrifyingly handsome billionaire whose family owned the very museum where I worked. He didn't send me away; instead, he studied my trembling hands and offered me a different deal: a two-year contract marriage, a two-million-dollar payout, and a strict clause forbidding any children. I signed the papers and moved into his Park Avenue penthouse, thinking I was finally safe. But when I went back to the old apartment to retrieve the only memento of my dead parents, Lydia lashed out, leaving me bleeding from a head wound. Gerhard’s retaliation was absolute—he had her arrested and her building foreclosed on within hours, claiming he was simply "protecting his assets." As I recovered in his silent, glass-walled home, I saw a call from a famous socialite flash on his phone, and a cold truth settled in my gut. I wasn't just a wife; I was a placeholder, a silent shield used to fend off the women from his past. I looked at the massive pink diamond on my finger and realized the silence I had lived in my whole life was about to become my most expensive prison. I had traded a life of poverty for a high-stakes game of shadows, and now I had to survive the man who claimed to own me.
The Fake Heiress Cancels Her Engagement

The Fake Heiress Cancels Her Engagement

I woke up in a luxurious private medical room, only to be hit with a crushing realization. I had transmigrated into a novel as the fake heiress of the McConnell family, destined to be the ultimate villain. In the original plot, I viciously bullied the real daughter who grew up in a trailer park, and tortured my adopted brother by using him as a living blood bank. When the truth came out, my fiancé abandoned me, my family threw me away, and the brother I tormented eventually left me to bleed to death in a dark alley. Right now, the timeline had just reached the deadly turning point. The real heiress had been brought home, wearing faded rags and mercilessly mocked by our relatives. My vicious cousin had secretly handed me corrosive acid disguised as expensive skincare, hoping I would melt my own face off. Worse, an anonymously leaked audio of me admitting my fake identity had just gone viral, causing a massive corporate scandal. My elite fiancé immediately marched into the penthouse with his lawyers, throwing the cancellation documents on the glass table. "The Vance family does not merge assets with a fraud. We don't marry fake bloodlines." Everyone waited for me to break down, beg, and viciously attack the real daughter like a hysterical thief clinging to a stolen life. They thought I would willingly walk right back into my predetermined, gruesome death. Instead, I calmly pulled off the five-carat diamond ring, dropped it on the table, and turned to expose the cousin's trap to protect the real heiress. This time, I am rewriting the script.
His Secret Heir In Her Arms

His Secret Heir In Her Arms

I returned to New York with a broken suitcase and exactly three hundred and forty-two dollars in my bank account. My mother was dying in a public hospital, and the only treatment that could save her required a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit I didn't have. While I was pleading with the billing department, I ran into my billionaire ex, Gannon Sharpe, and his cruel fiancée, Aleta. Without a second thought, Aleta slapped me so hard my lip split, kicking my belongings across the floor and calling me a gold-digging thief in front of the entire staff. I looked at Gannon, the man I once loved more than my own life, hoping for a shred of mercy. Instead, he looked at me with pure revulsion and told me I belonged in the gutter. He believed the lies his grandfather told him—that I had abandoned him after his car crash and vanished with millions. He had no idea I was the one who actually pulled him from that burning wreckage, or that I was currently skipping meals in a moldy motel just so our secret son could have formula. He called me "disgusting" and walked away, leaving me to rot. I wanted to scream that I was the genius scientist who wrote his company’s core algorithms, and that the child he didn’t know existed was shivering with a fever only blocks away. But the ironclad NDA I signed to save my family kept me silent, even as Gannon looked at me like I was something he’d stepped in. Desperate for health insurance to save my mother and son, I took a bottom-tier data entry job in the basement of Gannon’s own tower, intending to stay invisible. But when a billion-dollar error threatened to bankrupt his empire, I couldn't stop myself from hacking the system to fix the code. Now, the man who hates me is standing in my cubicle, demanding to know how a "dropout" knows his most guarded secrets. Gannon is finally digging into my past, and he’s about to find out exactly what—and who—I’ve been hiding for the last four years.
The Billionaire's Secret Heir: Sign the Divorce

The Billionaire's Secret Heir: Sign the Divorce

I spent three years as the perfect, silent wife to billionaire Ezequiel Sanford, enduring a marriage colder than the marble floors of our Manhattan mansion. The day I finally saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test was the same day my world burned down. I found Ezequiel at the hospital, but he wasn't there for me. He was cradling his ex-girlfriend, Alexa, with a gentleness he had never shown me, while my own father was being rushed into the ICU after a suicide attempt triggered by our family's bankruptcy. Instead of comfort, Ezequiel handed me divorce papers. He had checked a box that read "No Issue of Marriage," effectively erasing any claim I had to his legacy. He blackmailed me, promising to save my father’s company only if I signed away every cent of alimony and walked away with nothing. When Alexa called him claiming an emergency, Ezequiel shoved me aside so violently I hit the sharp corner of his glass desk. As I collapsed to the floor, clutching my abdomen in sudden, searing pain, he didn't even look back. "Stop acting," he sneered, his voice dripping with disgust. "It’s pathetic. I will never love you, Claudia, no matter how many times you fall down." He walked out to be with her, leaving me bleeding on his office carpet with the secret he had spent years trying to avoid. He thought I was a gold-digger faking a crisis, never realizing I was actually carrying the Sanford heir he claimed didn't exist. Now, I’m hiding in a private clinic while my husband’s security team scours the city for me. My childhood friend just handed me a one-way ticket to Paris and a chance to restart the medical career I sacrificed for a lie. The money just hit my father's account. I’m signing the papers and disappearing. By the time Ezequiel realizes what he’s lost, I’ll be a world away, and he’ll never even know my child’s name.