Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Jilted By Prince, Claimed By King
It was the night of the Winter Chalet Gala, the most prestigious event of the year and the night my life was officially supposed to begin. I was the perfect socialite, a Senator’s golden daughter, and the fiancée of Prince Clement. Then my sister, Bailee, handed me a glass of champagne with a sweet, innocent smile. "Just a sip for luck, big sister." Within minutes, my blood turned into liquid fire. In my past life, I didn't realize that "luck" was a drug designed to strip me of my dignity. I had stumbled into a hallway where a planted stranger waited for the paparazzi to catch us. The scandal was the first nail in my coffin. My family disowned me, my fiancé abandoned me for my sister, and I eventually ended the nightmare by jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. I died in the freezing bay, realizing too late that my sister’s love was a death sentence and my parents had already replaced me. The betrayal felt like swallowing broken glass, a pain more suffocating than the salt water that eventually claimed my lungs. Why did the people I loved want me dismantled? Why was my suicide their only version of mercy? Opening my eyes again, I was back on that snowy balcony three years ago. The iridescent pearl manicure was back on my fingers, and the drug was already screaming in my veins. But I won't be the carcass for the vultures this time. I kicked off my heels and climbed the stone railing, looking toward the forbidden Royal Wing. I’m not going back to the trap. I’m going to the only man powerful enough to burn them all: King Ignatius Fisher./1/111637/coverorgin.jpg?v=100affe64c584261e8731610fd306ae5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Married to the Tyrant in a Wheelchair
My boyfriend and stepsister murdered me for my inheritance, their celebratory kiss a final insult above my broken body on the rain-slicked concrete of the port. As my soul floated inches from my own face, a tyrant the world knew only as a disfigured cripple, Charles Moses, arrived with a team of soldiers. He ignored my killers, who were now begging for their lives. Instead, he fell to his knees in the mud and blood. He cradled my lifeless head in his hands, and a gut-wrenching sob of pure agony tore from his throat before he carried my body into the black ocean. As the water closed over us, I didn't understand. Why did this monster, a man I had never met, weep for me as if I was his entire world? My eyes snapped open. I was five years in the past, coughing up water in a hospital bed. It was the night my family screamed at me for ruining my stepsister's dress after she'd tried to drown me. When they offered to marry me off to the "crippled monster" Charles Moses to save my perfect stepsister from that fate, I didn't fight them. I smiled and said yes. This time, I would walk straight into the lion's den myself./0/69712/coverorgin.jpg?v=6475b3521a702ba645e79895acd50271&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Doting CEO Wants To Go Public
In the eyes of the public, Elijah was ever the gentleman, always distant and reserved. But behind closed doors, he was an animal who relentlessly ensnared Ashley in a web of lust. No one knew of their secret relationship, yet at the same time, no one dared to bully her again. Then one day, she was hit with morning sickness right in front of everyone. To everyone's shock, the aloof and domineering Elijah quickly knelt in front of her and caressed her pregnant belly. "Babe," he crooned, "let's go public with our relationship. I will give you my everything."/0/58918/coverorgin.jpg?v=4f9eeb5727e119fc4ea6027415bb7218&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Toxic Love: Falling For My Cruel Lover
"What, worried people would find out you're practically a whore?" "You asshole!" Brynn was a slave to Lawrence's whims as he switched between humiliating her and doting on her. Then one day, he dropped the bomb on her. "I'm getting married." But Brynn was relieved. She took it as closure and moved on. However, while on a blind date with her ideal man, she received nothing but insults from his family. She was losing her self-esteem when Lawrence stormed into the room and pulled her into his embrace. "Apologize to my woman!" Everyone was stunned, including Brynn. Wasn't he supposed to get married that day?/1/106632/coverorgin.jpg?v=207e5317f41477a75abdc79b3ce13cfd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Neglected Wife's Secret: Genius Designer Aria
I sat in the sterile silence of a VIP fertility clinic, clutching my Chanel purse and praying for good news after three years of trying for a baby. But as the doctor told me my body was "pristine," my phone lit up with a Page Six headline: "Garold Chandler Spotted with Mystery Woman at OB-GYN—Heir on the Way?" The "mystery woman" was Jenilee Shaw, and the man in the charcoal suit was my husband. That night, I waited up to show him the news, but he didn't even offer an apology. When I asked if he ever wanted children, he pried my hands off him and looked at me with cold, dead eyes. "Not with you," he said, before walking away to take a shower. I packed my bags and left a divorce agreement on his nightstand, but Garold wasn't about to let his "perfect" wife go that easily. He shredded the papers and froze every one of my credit cards, leaving me stranded with forty dollars and a crumbling family estate. He even mocked me when I accidentally texted him for a loan, telling me to come home and beg for my allowance like a child. He thought he had me cornered, but he forgot one thing: I wasn't just his trophy wife. Years ago, I was "Aria," the anonymous design genius the fashion world had been hunting for. I didn't need his money—I had a secret offshore account and a lead designer job at his biggest rival. As I walked into Twelve Bridges for my first day, I ran into his mistress and smiled. "Keep him," I told her. "I'm bored of the three-minute disappointments."/1/106476/coverorgin.jpg?v=cba45b8d387f243cb04774b62af3a235&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn Heiress: Revenge On My Ruthless Ex
I was dying in a rusted warehouse, paralyzed in a wheelchair while the man I loved and my own stepsister watched with smiles on their faces. The air smelled of old oil and damp concrete, and my vision was fading into a milky haze. Dillon, the man I’d sacrificed everything for, smoothed his custom suit and pulled out a syringe filled with a clear, lethal neurotoxin. Beside him, my stepsister Bianca toyed with my mother’s sapphire ring—the one they’d just pried off my hand while I was too weak to even make a fist. She leaned in and whispered that my father’s trust fund was already offshore and that they’d sent my husband, Kade, to the wrong coordinates to ensure he’d only find my corpse. Dillon slid the needle into my vein with the chilling efficiency of a man who had done this before. "This will stop your heart in thirty seconds," he said, sounding as bored as if he were explaining a tax form. Ice flooded my chest, and my lungs seized, fighting for oxygen that wasn't there. As the warehouse lights blurred into white streaks, an explosion echoed in the distance. Kade had come for me, but he was too late. I died staring at the ceiling, my heart giving one last violent kick of pure, unadulterated hatred. I had been such a fool, believing Dillon’s lies and running away from the only man who actually cared for me. I died with a single thought: if I ever get another chance, I will drag you both to hell with me. Then, there was nothing. And then, there was air. I sat up gasping, my silk pajamas drenched in cold sweat. The rusted beams were gone, replaced by a vaulted ceiling and the glittering Manhattan skyline. I grabbed the digital clock on the nightstand—it was five years ago, the exact night I first tried to run away with Dillon. The bedroom door slammed against the wall, and Kade Mullen stood in the doorway, looking dangerous, furious, and very much alive. I looked at my shaking hands, then at the man I had once hated. This time, I wasn't going to run. I was going to make sure Dillon and Bianca lost everything./1/105381/coverorgin.jpg?v=225c2ae198c99b139bb246b84e2d49c5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Runaway Bride's Secret Billionaire Protector
I sat before the vanity in a lace dress that cost more than a mid-sized sedan, but to me, it felt like a burial shroud. I was the sacrifice being offered to the Ortega family, a human payment for my father’s debts and failing company. When I tried to refuse, my stepmother forced a glass of drugged champagne into my hand and threatened to destroy me. She whispered that if I didn't marry the "monster" Cooper Ortega, she’d release psychiatric records proving I was a mental patient who hallucinated a child that never existed. I escaped by jumping out of a speeding limo, tumbling into a ditch and losing everything but my life. A mysterious, scarred driver in a beat-up Ford saved me, but when I limped back home, my father threw me out like trash. My own sister stood in the foyer, wearing my engagement ring and clinging to Lance, the man who had promised to protect me. "You're a sinking ship, Fran," my father sneered before locking the gates. Then I found the recording—my stepmother’s voice complaining that the doctor wanted more money because my baby had cried before they took him away. My son wasn't stillborn; he was stolen by the people I called family. I was broken, homeless, and hunted, with only a "poor" driver named Cooper to help me. I didn't know he was actually the billionaire monster I had jumped out of a car to avoid, but I moved into his cramped studio anyway. I’m starting a war with nothing but a cracked phone and a mother’s rage. They took my life and they took my son, so now I’m going to take everything they have left./1/112890/coverorgin.jpg?v=a2ddadcc385973e76e5f713d0f5b18c0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late For Regret, Mr. Booth
I was eight months pregnant with triplets, waiting for my husband in his private office. Instead, his "childhood friend" Jaida walked in and threw divorce papers at my pregnant belly. "He doesn't need you anymore. I'm the one who gave him a kidney five years ago, and now he's giving me his family." But I was the one who secretly gave him my kidney. Before I could expose her lie, she pushed me hard against a glass table. I went into premature labor. In the blood-soaked operating room, I heard Jaida give a cold order to the corrupt doctor. "Secure the heirs, whatever the cost to the incubator." They told me my two sons died, leaving only my frail daughter. I barely escaped the burning hospital with her, faking our deaths to survive. Four years later, I took my daughter to a top cardiologist for her rare heart defect, only to run into my ex-husband and Jaida. They had a four-year-old son with them. His name was Jacob—the exact name I had chosen for my "dead" baby. What completely shattered my world was the doctor's secret revelation: their son and my daughter shared an impossible, one-in-ten-million genetic mutation. My sons didn't die in that operating room. Jaida had stolen my baby and my life. I immediately ordered a secret DNA test. This time, I wouldn't just run; I would make them pay for everything they took from me./1/115706/coverorgin.jpg?v=3217db780773472a3ca1defe4e60cca3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Genius Heiress' Ruthless Divorce Revenge
Harlow had endured three years of a loveless marriage, funding her husband Beck's life and secretly writing the AI code that saved his failing company. But when she walked into her family's private memorial library, she found Beck having sex with his mistress, Fallon, right on top of her late father's antique desk. Instead of showing guilt, Beck proudly announced that Fallon had given him a son and heir. He demanded Harlow accept the bastard child and stay married just to maintain his perfect public image. To make matters worse, Fallon was actually a corporate spy from a rival company, actively stealing Harlow's family legacy while Beck willingly handed over the company secrets. When Harlow demanded an immediate divorce, Beck laughed in her face. "I will never sign the divorce papers! I will drag this out in court until you bleed dry!" Looking at her father's crushed pocket watch and the two parasites desecrating her sacred home, Harlow's shock turned into a freezing, absolute clarity. How could she have spent three years supporting a selfish hypocrite who would so ruthlessly destroy her parents' legacy? Harlow calmly packed her bags, threw his bespoke suits in the trash, and walked out the door. She went straight to Fitzgerald Monroe, the most ruthless billionaire corporate lawyer in New York, ready to use her secret identity to make Beck lose everything./1/116332/coverorgin.jpg?v=46189a20acc9921aaf31d86687b727a7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Bound To The Scarred Secret Billionaire
My father was facing immediate arrest for embezzlement, and my stepmother's first reaction was to kick me out. The local boss gave me a sickening ultimatum: marry the town's terrifying, disfigured ex-con, or my father rots in jail and my little brother's future is ruined. Left with no choice, I walked into the freezing woods. I was so desperate that I stripped off my jacket, offering my body to the scarred beast just to stay warm. But Harrison looked at me with absolute disgust, threw my bag into the mud, and locked me out in the cold. When I crawled back home, my stepmother threw me onto the lawn. The local boss then attacked me in the dirt, deciding to sell me to a notoriously abusive family instead. Just as I was beaten nearly unconscious, Harrison appeared with a steel axe, brutally crushing the attackers. "She stays with me. I'll marry her tomorrow to settle the debt." But as I recovered inside his cabin, nothing made sense. He claimed to be a starving, penniless outcast, yet he wore immaculate custom leather boots and a fortune in authentic sandalwood beads. When I tried to put a blanket over his shivering shoulders, he nearly choked me to death in a blind, traumatized night terror. Who exactly was this incredibly dangerous man, and why was he pretending to be a worthless stray? As he turned his back and coldly ordered me to leave his property by sunrise, I wiped the dirt from my bruised face. I wasn't going anywhere./1/111170/coverorgin.jpg?v=3d92526714f8c39f59e368a6eb287216&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Uncle, My Sweetest Revenge
My fiancé, Freddie, signed the papers to have me committed to a mental asylum. He told everyone my "episodes" were becoming a liability to his family's pristine reputation. The truth was, he and his mistress, Jessie, wanted me out of the way. They painted me as a hysterical, unstable psycho so their affair could continue without a single complication. I spent my last days in a chemical haze, trapped and forgotten. My final memory wasn't of love or compassion, but of orderlies forcing my head under the stagnant, drugged water of an asylum bathtub. Freddie just watched, his face cold and indifferent as I drowned. He stole my life, my sanity, and my future. He got away with murder while playing the part of the devoted, heartbroken fiancé to a world that believed his every lie. Until I opened my eyes again. The blinding Hampton sun stabbed my retinas, and the smell of chlorine filled my lungs. I wasn't in the asylum. I was back at the Madden family's annual summer party, three years before my death. Across the pool, I saw Freddie laughing with Jessie. They thought they had won. They had no idea I was back from the dead to burn their entire world to the ground./0/91459/coverorgin.jpg?v=7727a57b24f7627db3c6e4feef168690&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love Began When The Facade Shattered
Elena's beauty was undeniable, though Greyson never trusted the sweetness in her voice. He saw her charming words as nothing but a disguise. Then, one day, Elena's passion faded, leaving only quiet between them. That indifference unsettled Greyson more than he expected. Drawing her near, he whispered, "Just say something nice, Elena. I want to hear it from you." Greyson was a man who valued calm and self-control, but meeting Elena had turned his world upside down. When her love disappeared, he realized he couldn't bear the emptiness she left behind./1/105382/coverorgin.jpg?v=257ff005e23955a1c4092b90a46f107c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Secret Twins: Her Revenge
I was four months pregnant, weighing over two hundred pounds, and my heart was failing from experimental treatments forced on me as a child. My doctor looked at me with clinical detachment and told me I was in a death sentence: if I kept the baby, I would die, and if I tried to remove it, I would die. Desperate for a lifeline, I called my father, Francis Acosta, to tell him I was sick and pregnant. I expected a father's love, but all I got was a cold, sharp blade of a voice. "Then do it quietly," he said. "Don't embarrass Candi. Her debutante ball is coming up." He didn't just reject me; he erased me. My trust fund was frozen, and I was told I was no longer an Acosta. My fiancé, Auston, had already discarded me, calling me a "bloated whale" while he looked for a thinner, wealthier replacement. I left New York on a Greyhound bus, weeping into a bag of chips, a broken woman the world considered a mistake. I couldn't understand how my own father could tell me to die "quietly" just to save face for a party. I didn't know why I had been a lab rat for my family’s pharmaceutical ambitions, or how they could sleep at night while I was left to rot in the gray drizzle of the city. Five years later, the doors of JFK International Airport slid open. I stepped onto the marble floor in red-soled stilettos, my body lean, lethal, and carved from years of blood and sweat. I wasn't the "whale" anymore; I was a ghost coming back to haunt them. With my daughter by my side and a medical reputation that terrified the global elite, I was ready to dismantle the Acosta empire piece by piece. "Tell Francis to wash his neck," I whispered to the skyline. "I'm home."/1/115394/coverorgin.jpg?v=ffa3404937c6975334bcf5c37b03fa15&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Rising From Ruin: The Billionaire's Lethal Roommate
For two years, I was trapped behind my own eyes, a prisoner in my own skull. A crazed fan had hijacked my body after a brutal car crash, wearing my skin like a cheap suit. When my soul finally locked back into my flesh in a cramped hospital room, I realized she had destroyed everything I built. This parasitic stalker had drained my massive fortune to zero, buying luxury gifts for a mediocre actor and turning me into the internet's most hated woman. My phone was flooded with death threats, and the hashtag demanding I go to hell was trending at number one. Even the hospital nurses despised me. One marched into my room, raising her hand to violently slap my pale cheek. "You psychotic bitch, you make me sick!" Worse, my sprawling Beverly Hills estate had been foreclosed and sold to a mysterious billionaire named Kasey Dominguez. I had absolutely nothing left. No money. No reputation. No home. The sheer violation of watching a psychotic stranger ruin my life while I was locked in the passenger seat of my own mind made my blood boil. I refused to let her destroy my legacy. As the nurse's hand descended, my atrophied muscles snapped into action. I twisted her wrist until the joint popped, grabbed the keys to my freedom, and slipped out into the cold Los Angeles night. I was going to take my life back, starting with the billionaire who thought he owned my house./1/115708/coverorgin.jpg?v=af6aa2421bb917490e8b0fe4071433e5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Substitute Marriage: Marrying The Disabled Billionaire
To save my toxic family's bankrupt company, I was sold for fifty million dollars to marry Arch Rush III, a notoriously ruthless and paralyzed billionaire. Because of my severe face blindness, I couldn't even recognize my new husband. I was just a cheap, replaceable pawn. Yet, while my own parents physically abused me and treated me like livestock, my terrifying new husband actually protected me. But entering the Rush family estate was like stepping into a snake pit. His aristocratic relatives mocked my cheap clothes and even tried to disfigure me with boiling tea. To further humiliate me in front of a world-renowned neurologist, his grandmother pointed a bony finger at me. "Go massage his muscles, this is your daily duty now." Arch glared at me with a lethal warning, but I had no choice. Trembling, I pressed my hands into his thigh. My heart instantly dropped. Beneath his expensive suit, there was no soft, withered flesh. The muscle contours were tight, dense, and incredibly firm. How could a man completely paralyzed from the waist down have the legs of an athlete? Before I could process the terrifying truth, my strong fingers dug into a nerve cluster. Under my touch, his "dead" muscle violently twitched. The doctor dropped his pen in absolute shock, and I realized I had just accidentally exposed the ruthless billionaire's deadliest secret./0/54072/coverorgin.jpg?v=55b682a2ffd6706cdb24095b57ab705a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shrouded Affections: Winning Back My CEO Wife
For two years, Bryan only saw Eileen as an assistant. She needed money for her mother's treatment, and he thought she'd never leave because of it. To him, it seemed fair to offer her financial help in exchange for sex. However, Bryan didn't expect to fall for her. Eileen confronted him, "You love someone else, yet you always sleep with me? You're despicable!" The moment she slammed the divorce papers down, he realized she was the the mysterious wife he married six years ago. Determined to win her back, Bryan lavished her with affection. When others mocked her origins, he gave her all his wealth, happy to be the supportive husband. Now a celebrated CEO, Eileen had everything, but Bryan found himself lost in another whirlwind.../0/85203/coverorgin.jpg?v=0f20ced7904d1cca0bed8c7f5572eacc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Silent Heartbreak: My Love No Longer Belongs To You
Evelina, a mute girl, married Andreas believing he alone would shield her from a world of misery. Three years later, she carried invisible bruises: a miscarried child, a smirking mistress who shamed her in public, and a husband who treated her as a pawn. Love no longer tempted her, nor did she crave another chance. Andreas thought Evelina would never leave him, but when she walked out without a backward glance, panic set in. "Andreas, face the truth. It's over," Evelina declared firmly. He blinked back tears as he stated, "I can't let go." For the first time, she chose herself-and let her heart lead the way./1/106635/coverorgin.jpg?v=5f330109f94f1fd7e6598b1c4b5082f2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Spare Part Wife: Liver For His Mistress
I wore my favorite emerald silk dress to Per Se, thinking our third anniversary would finally be the night Darius came back to me. My heart was pounding with hope, but the moment he covered the rim of my champagne glass with a cold, marble-like hand, that hope died. He didn't bring a gift; he brought a personal assistant and a medical consent form. His ex-girlfriend, Hazel, was dying of liver failure, and I was the only compatible match they had found in the world. The realization hit me like a physical blow: he hadn’t married me for love, but for a "harvest." When I screamed that I wasn't a spare part, he didn't even flinch. Instead, he threatened to pull the funding for my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s care, holding the only family I had left hostage to save his "one who got away." He locked me in our penthouse under a high-tech security protocol, guarded by private contractors like a prisoner in a gilded cage. While I was trapped, he was at the hospital holding Hazel’s hand, wearing the Patek Philippe watch I’d bought him for his birthday. I watched their updates on social media, Hazel tagging him as her "hero" and "true love," while I was left alone in the dark. Darius told his lawyers I was just being "dramatic" and that I’d get over it once the settlement check cleared. Every memory of our three years together felt like a long-term investment in an organ transplant. How could I have been so blind? How could the man who promised to cherish me turn into a monster who only saw me as a regenerating asset? I stopped fighting and started calculating. I agreed to the surgery on one condition: a signed divorce decree and an ironclad trust for my grandmother that he could never touch. I refused his millions, took back my maiden name, and walked into that hospital with my head held high. I was giving them the piece of me they wanted, but it was the last thing they would ever take. As the elevator doors closed on Darius's desperate face, I knew that when I woke up, I would finally be free./1/109451/coverorgin.jpg?v=99185c23e86728137b82a6a1ae818c0a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Perfect Lie: The Empire Heiress
In a world ruled by power and illusion, the most dangerous role is playing yourself. When scandal detonates inside the powerful Laurent empire, its fragile heiress, Georgia Laurent, vanishes from public view. Investors panic. Markets wobble. The media circles like vultures. Then Georgia returns. Perfectly styled. Perfectly composed. Perfectly convincing. There's just one problem. She isn't Georgia Laurent. She's Sharon Beckley - a struggling actress drowning in debt and one missed audition away from losing everything. When the enigmatic fixer James Barnett offers her an obscene amount of money to impersonate the heiress "temporarily," Sharon accepts. It's a role with strict rules: smile for cameras, memorize the biography, sign where instructed, and never ask questions. But behind the mirrored walls of the Laurent estate, Sharon discovers this isn't damage control. It's containment. Locked wings of the mansion. Security systems recently upgraded. Burned files in marble fireplaces. Offshore accounts bleeding billions from Laurent Global Holdings. And whispers of a former executive whose fatal accident may have been murder. When Sharon pushes too far, the pressure shifts. Surveillance tightens. James grows colder. The board becomes ruthless. Then the real Georgia disappears. No flight records. No secure messages. No proof she's alive. And suddenly Sharon understands the truth: she wasn't hired to stand in. She was selected to replace. Now trapped inside a stolen identity with powerful men determined to preserve the illusion, Sharon faces an impossible choice - become Georgia completely and inherit an empire built on blood... Or expose the conspiracy and risk being erased permanently. Because in the Laurent world, identities are assets. And only one Georgia Laurent is allowed to exist./1/115396/coverorgin.jpg?v=23aa4d814baea05d53933e6e084dfb3d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
