Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Daredevil
"You're crazy." "Sweetheart, crazy's my middle name." ------ Daredevil; a reckless person who enjoys doing dangerous things. Darren 'Crazy' Carson is a daredevil in every sense of the word. He's never turned down a dare, never chickened out, and he's never, EVER, given a shit. Not until he met Faith Evermore at least. Faith Evermore was just a normal girl until she receives a secret invitation to a very exclusive club. An invitation that will change Faith and Darren's lives forever. Dares, Challenges, and Heartbreak come barrelling towards these two as they meet, and their lives will forever be changed. AMAZING COVER CREDS TO @sassySatanX/0/72880/coverorgin.jpg?v=41e81d04e5151363d1c648e582fe8683&imageMogr2/format/webp)
DEVIANT PRINCE
Hailey Astor-a sweetly attractive lady whose life became a cluster of thorns after she was forced to get married to Blake Augustus, a man old enough to be her father. It's the 21st century constitutional monarchy of New York where King Kaden Clifford rules the city, and Blake Augustus happens to be the prime minister who's also the king's best friend. Blake is endowed with wickedness, and he's always ready to unleash it on anyone anywhere. Hailey's parents threw her at him as an offering to make him pump them with money monthly. So far he gives them money, he's free to even kill her. And as for Blake, he didn't marry her without plans either. He has a girlfriend Judith who hates Hailey crazily for unknown reasons. Blake married Hailey to be Judith's maid and his own punching bag. Hailey's life turned bitterly sour, the two devils made everything hard. She was at the breaking point when she met HIM. Colt Clifford, the unhinged second prince of the city who'd stop at nothing till he claims her, own her, corrupt her and make her moan for him in every angle possible. What's it gonna be? With Blake and Judith around, will that ever come to fruition?/0/85395/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106210048&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Divorce Papers, A Woman Reborn
My record label was a empire, built on grit and an uncanny ear for talent. But that morning, standing in my sanctuary, Studio A, the controlled chaos I expected was replaced by a scene that froze my blood: a girl I didn't know, holding "The Nightingale," Liam's one-of-a-kind microphone. It wasn't just any mic. It was our mic, a silver emblem of our shared career, engraved with "E+L"-a symbol of a sacred promise he made years ago, that only his voice would ever touch it. And this girl, Ava, with her sickly sweet smile, was singing into it, her cheap perfume clinging to the pop filter, her fingers wrapped right over our initials. My sound engineer paled and cut the audio. "Hi, Ms. Reed. I'm Ava. Liam said I could warm up with this one." Her voice was pure saccharine. Liam, the man of principles, who preached loyalty and integrity, had let her use it, had broken his promise for her. He walked in later, carefree, carrying coffees, asking, "Where's Ava?" as if it were nothing. Blithely admitting he told her she could use his mic. Why did he dismiss our vow so easily? Why was this girl, a stranger, allowed to hold something so intimate, so symbolic of us? And why did Liam act like my feelings were an overreaction, just something he needed to manage? I sent her home, but the real fight had just begun./0/60678/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260526140715&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Beneath the surfaces
ays struggled to make ends meet, working multiple jobs to support her adoptive grandmother, Alice. But when she witnesses a fatal accident, her life takes an unexpected turn. In exchange for changing her statement, Ariana is offered a place at a prestigious private school, where she is thrust into a world of privilege and mystery. As she navigates the elite academy, Ariana uncovers dark secrets tied to the death of a student named Leilani Thompson who died pregnant. What she discovers beneath the surface will change her life forever, intertwining her fate with dangerous truths and forbidden love./0/99318/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106220741&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Mute Heart, His Burning Betrayal
My name is Arlie Stevens, and I was a mute girl who grew up in the shadows of the Rust Belt. My street art was our daily bread, and Bowen McClure was my protector, my first love, and my voice. But the boy who once fought off bullies for me decided to climb the social ladder by getting engaged to a ruthless corporate heiress, Kassandra Woodard. On their engagement night, Kassandra falsely accused me of ruining her gown. Bowen, my Bowen, publicly whipped me as punishment to appease her family. He told me it was to protect me, a necessary evil. Then he locked me in my room. As the party's fireworks lit up the sky, I smelled smoke. The apartment was on fire, and the door was locked from the outside. Through the flames, I heard Kassandra's voice, "Bowen locked her in. He wanted her out of the way." He didn't just abandon me; he tried to burn me alive. But I survived. And when a broken, guilt-ridden Bowen finally found me years later, begging for forgiveness after destroying the woman who orchestrated it all, I had only one thing to say to him./1/102447/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260121104450&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Night He Chose Her
My pregnancy was a high-risk miracle after years of failed IVF. My husband, Aaron, seemed like the perfect partner, driving across town every night for the organic kale I craved. But I soon discovered his nightly "grocery runs" were a cover to visit his dead best friend's sister, Brie. The ultimate betrayal came when I went into early labor. As I was fighting for our child's life, Brie called him threatening suicide. He looked at me, then at his phone, and walked out of the delivery room to save her. I gave birth alone. Our son was stillborn. Aaron returned hours later, not with grief, but with an excuse. "We can have another baby," he said, as if replacing a broken toy. He then announced that Brie, his fragile mistress, would be moving into our home while I was still in the hospital. He truly believed he could have it all: the grieving wife and the mistress waiting at home. But as I looked at the man who chose her over our dying child, the love I had for him died right there. I had a new plan./1/109956/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260411201650&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Deadline Bride
At twenty-three, Adrian Vale inherited a ten-billion-dollar empire... and a ruthless condition in his father's will: Marry before twenty-five - or lose control of Vale Consortium. With only months left, the board pressures him. Investors panic. Political rivals circle. Vanessa Cole is the perfect solution - elegant, connected, and the daughter of a powerful senator. A marriage to her would secure billion-dollar contracts from New York City to London. And then she drops a bombshell. She's pregnant. The media explodes. Headlines declare: Billionaire Heir Secures His Legacy! The board demands an immediate engagement. The public celebrates the "royal" baby. Adrian is stunned. Because he knows something isn't right. Meanwhile, Zara Bello - the only woman who ever loved him before the billions - has disappeared from his life after discovering his secret identity. What Adrian doesn't know is this: Zara is carrying his real child. Alone. Heartbroken. And determined never to beg a billionaire for love. As wedding plans accelerate and Vanessa tightens her grip with staged hospital visits and carefully leaked ultrasound photos, Adrian begins to investigate. What he uncovers is devastating. Fake medical records. Bribed doctors. A calculated plot to trap him into marriage and hand her father control of Vale Consortium. But exposing Vanessa means public humiliation. Stock collapse. Corporate war. And if he's wrong? He destroys the mother of his "child" - and his last chance to keep the empire. Now Adrian must choose: Marry the woman claiming his baby and secure his power... Or risk losing billions to protect the woman secretly carrying his true heir. Because in a world where pregnancy is a weapon and love is a liability- The biggest betrayal isn't in the boardroom. It's in the nursery./1/103855/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106223452&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Debts, My Sweetest Victory
On our eighth anniversary, I found my husband on a tropical beach with his junior employee. A photo on social media showed them with a diamond ring he' d bought with our company' s money, captioned: "Paradise found with my forever love." But the moment he truly broke me was when I told him I was terminating the pregnancy and needed him there. He laughed. "You think I'm going to play along with your pathetic games?" he sneered, before rushing off to comfort his mistress. Later, in the hospital corridor, after I had gone through it all alone, he finally fell to his knees, crying and asking about "our baby." But it was too late. He and his mistress had already killed my child. So I played the part of the grieving wife. While he begged for a second chance, I quietly transferred millions to my name, gathered every last piece of evidence of his affair, and served him the final divorce papers, leaving him with nothing but a mountain of debt./0/84144/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106203806&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Burn It All: A Woman Reclaimed
My husband, Ethan, always told me my grandmother' s priceless Martin guitar was "just an old guitar." My heart, a delicate melody, had spent years devoted to his dreams, sacrificing my own. Then, at his startup' s glitzy SXSW party, he gave it away. As a "bonus" to his new intern, Sabrina, a girl barely out of her teens. I watched, helpless, as she fumbled, faked a fall, and the antique wood shattered on the marble floor. Ethan didn't even glance at the rubble. He cradled Sabrina, his eyes cold daggers aimed at me, his "supportive wife." He then called my cherished legacy "just an old guitar," spitting venom that my Bluegrass grandmother was "just some hick musician." My world imploded. That night, the betrayal deepened. His phone, answered by Sabrina' s smug purr, confirmed the affair. "You really need to learn to let things go, Jocelyn," she taunted. The next morning, a frantic call: Sabrina had a severe "anxiety attack" and needed blood from my rare O-negative type. He abducted me, forcing a transfusion, making me miss a life-changing music meeting. Drained and helpless, I discovered a year-long scheme: my designs, my songs, my entire future-all stolen, registered in Sabrina' s name, and now she was calling herself a songwriter. Every piece of my identity, my dreams, twisted into a cruel mockery. How could the man I loved, the partner I built a life with, systematically dismantle my existence with such cold precision? I was erased. But in that sterile clinic room, bleeding from a forced donation for his mistress, a new, chilling resolve began to crystallize within me. They thought they had left me with nothing. They had only given me everything I needed to burn their world to the ground./1/107766/coverorgin.jpg?v=ee8ad23b8b456d09c0bbf3299ff95adf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Ghost Surgeon: My Ruthless Ex's Obsession
I was balancing four pitchers of watery beer when my phone buzzed with a photo of my cousin flaunting a massive pink diamond on the hand of my ex-fiancé. Jennings Bowen didn't just break our engagement; his family stripped away my medical scholarship and branded me a "reputational liability," leaving me to scrub grease in a Queens dive bar. When Jennings walked into my bar with the arrogance of old money, my alcohol-fueled rage took over, and I ended up vomiting all over his handmade Italian leather shoes. He didn't just have me arrested; he baited my younger brother, Leo, into a fight and had him charged with felony assault. "He’s nineteen, Bronwyn. We’ll bury him," Jennings whispered at the precinct, while his mother ensured no lawyer in the city would touch our case. With a fifty-thousand-dollar bail I couldn't pay and an eviction notice on my door, I was backed into a corner with absolutely nothing left to lose. I couldn't understand why these people were so obsessed with crushing someone who was already down, or how they could sleep at night while destroying a teenager's life. I realized then that playing by their rules wouldn't save Leo, so I dug out the set of black ceramic scalpels I had hidden under my bed for five years. I wasn't just a waitress or a failed student; I was "The Ghost," a surgeon who operated in the shadows where the law couldn't follow. I marched to the gates of the Phelps estate, the home of the billionaire father who abandoned me, ready to trade his life for my brother's freedom. "I'm here to save you," I told the dying man as his family watched in horror. "But the price is my brother’s life, and you’re going to pay it."/0/81954/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106195959&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Fiancée Tried To Steal My Fortune
Seven years. That's how long I'd been with Sarah, building a future, planning our wedding. Meeting her parents formally was supposed to be a joyous step, a celebration of us. But at dinner, Sarah casually suggested a terrifying plan: mortgaging or selling the townhouse-the one I paid for-to fund her deceased brother's friend's dubious startup. Her parents enthusiastically agreed, openly admiring the 'visionary' friend, David. They dismissed my shock as "selfishness," accusing me of caring "always about money." Sarah herself rolled her eyes, questioning my "support." Then, they ambushed me at my college, publicly humiliating me with baseless accusations of emotional abuse and fraud. My career, built on years of hard work as an adjunct professor, hung by a thread. How could the woman I loved betray me so utterly for mere convenience and blind family loyalty? Were my life savings, my future, so easily disposable to them? The injustice burned, revealing a deep-seated contempt I never truly saw. I cancelled the wedding, ready to fight for what was mine. But just as her CEO prepared to reprimand me, a sleek black car pulled up, and a quiet man stepped out, about to expose a secret that would shake their world to its core. They had no idea who they were really dealing with./0/64746/coverorgin.jpg?v=795d8cc5625552b4c899188d4a79cabd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Deal Too Deep: My Stand-In Romance With Aloof CEO
To exact revenge on her treacherous fiancé, Yvonne enticed Clayton into a liaison that promised advantages for both. Yet, when Yvonne spotted a woman resembling her at Clayton’s side, she recognized she was nothing more than a substitute. Discovering Clayton’s upcoming wedding, she departed with a generous severance sum. “Clayton, this is truly the end,” she declared resolutely. On the very day Yvonne was set to marry someone else, Clayton showed up, desperation clear in his eyes as he dropped to his knees. “Yvonne, please, don’t go through with it. Don’t marry him.”/0/85865/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106210949&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Wife's Betrayal: Son's Heart, Father's Rage
My life was a perfect picture, painted with my wife Olivia' s fierce love and our son Liam' s bright spirit. Then, a car crash shattered everything, revealing a truth so vile it clawed at my sanity. From my hospital bed, broken and grieving, I overheard the woman I adored, my Olivia, calmly discuss my son' s death as a mere transaction. Liam, our bright-eyed boy, wasn' t gone by accident; he was sacrificed, his heart destined for Mark and Olivia' s hidden child, Lily. The six years of blissful marriage, the grand gestures-they were all a meticulously crafted lie, a performance designed to groom Liam as an unwitting organ donor, and me as a pathetic pawn. My perfect family was a monstrous deception, and their car crash was an execution, my son' s death an assassination. The agony of my injuries paled in comparison to the chilling realization that Olivia had orchestrated a surgery to ensure I could never be a father again. How could the woman I loved, the mother of my child, be a cold-blooded murderer, meticulously planning our demise? My world was obliterated, but from its ruins, a cold, hard resolve ignited within me. If she wanted to play a game, I would play along, and then I would burn her world to the ground./1/103386/coverorgin.jpg?v=9dcd2c0771846d07abd6aac47792ed14&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Blood on the Snow, A Lost Life
On our sixth anniversary, I found my fiancé Carter had given my grandmother's heirloom locket to his "fragile" colleague, Carmen. When I confronted him, he slapped me across the face. He then dragged me out into the snow, forcing me to my knees to apologize to Carmen for upsetting her. The stress and his violence triggered a miscarriage. I was losing our baby right there at his feet. He never even noticed the blood staining the snow. He was too busy comforting the woman he chose over me and our child. I left that night and never looked back. Three years later, after building a new life and a successful bakery, he showed up on my doorstep, a ghost of a man, dying of cancer. He collapsed, coughing up blood at my feet, begging for a forgiveness I no longer had to give./0/50041/coverorgin.jpg?v=20240830110207&imageMogr2/format/webp)
RECONNECTION
Emily and Adam, once inseparable high school friends turned estranged by an untold history, find themselves reunited at a conference in Portland. With successful careers and separate lives, they stand on the bridge of collaboration between their companies. Yet, amidst professional strides, unresolved emotions surface, testing the boundaries of past hurts and missed opportunities. As they navigate a feelings between professional alliance and personal reconciliation, the echoes of an unspoken past weave a poignant narrative of second chances and the complexities of rekindling a friendship lost to misunderstandings. Will the collaboration they embark upon reignite more than just professional ambitions, paving the way for healing and a chance at a renewed connection?/0/38934/coverorgin.jpg?v=e128ea7bde6fcf0480edf26827d64e5b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love Temptation: Let Me Be Your Slave
The boldest thing Angela had ever done in her life was to secretly conceive Jeremy's child despite knowing that she was just a plaything. Jeremy was a vicious man. She knew he would rage if he found out about the pregnancy. To gain freedom, she intentionally annoyed him until he couldn't take it anymore. As soon as he "dumped" her, she ran away for her baby's safety. It wasn't long before Jeremy smelled something fishy. He tracked her down and brought her back. Angela was scared and also tired of him. After all her tricks to make him release her failed, she yelled, "Can't you just leave me alone? I don't want to serve you anymore!" A warm glint leaped into Jeremy's eyes as he looked at the baby in her arms. "Who said anything about you serving me? Since you have been good to me in the past, I'd like to do the same. What do you say to me serving you and our baby from now on?" Angela could hardly believe her ears./0/83675/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106202712&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Three Days To Ruin, Three Days To Rise
The last thing I saw was the unforgiving concrete of the Queensboro Bridge, rushing up to meet me. The last thing I heard was the online roar of a digital lynch mob, accusing me of being a fraud, a plagiarist who stole from Madison Clark, the supposed genius. My name is Chloe Evans, a filmmaker, and my short films were my life – until Madison, the newly discovered heiress, started posting crude versions of my work online, always three days before my official releases. Her attacks didn't just ruin my career, bankrupt me with endless lawsuits, and break my spirit with relentless online hate; she did the same to my friends, Leo and Anya, destroying their lives, too. The profound injustice of it all, the betrayal from the foster family who "adopted" me, the public humiliation – it became unbearable. I jumped, seeking an end to the torment. But I didn't hit the water. I gasped awake in my own bed, back in my small Queens apartment, with the screen of my laptop open to the Sundance Film Festival submission page. The date confirmed it: I had been given a second chance. My first life wasn' t a dream; it was a warning. And this time, I could hear Madison' s inner monologue, her terrifying secret: a "System" that let her see three days into the future of creative content. The parasite was doing it again, right now. But this time, I wasn' t walking into her trap. This time, I was going to burn it all down./0/86178/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106211305&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Jilted Lover's Fierce Comeback
The crisp Stanford acceptance letter felt like a cruel joke in my hands, a ghost from a life that ended in betrayal. I stared through it, past the promises, seeing Chloe and Brooke' s smiles, and the sterile white of the hospital room where my grandmother lay still. I remembered the twisted metal, the rain on my face, and Brooke running-not to me, bleeding on the pavement, but to Zoe, who had a mere scratch. My spirit lingered just long enough to hear their laughter, their celebration of sterilizing me, willing all my assets to Zoe. My life, my love, my trust – all a long, cruel punchline. Reborn into this sunlit room, with the future in my hand, I felt only a cold, clear purpose. Paper tore, then tore again, until the Stanford dream was confetti falling into the trash. Silicon Valley could wait. My phone buzzed with their fake concern: Chloe' s "Love you! 😘" and Brooke' s "So proud of you, Alex." I deleted them without a reply. Their words were poison, and I was finally immune. My grandmother, Susan, found me later, confused about my rejection of Stanford, Google, and Apple. I told her I wanted to stay, to protect her. The next day, whispers of "crazy" and "waste" followed me. Then they walked in: Chloe, Brooke, and the architect of my destruction, Zoe. She looked so plain, but her voice was pure venom, painting herself as the victim, accusing me of arrogance, of having everything handed to me. My fists clenched. Chloe and Brooke, who knew the truth, chose the lie. They weren't my friends. They were my enemies. I walked out. The game was on. This time, I knew the rules. And I was not going to lose./1/117309/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260603150947&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Secret Genius Ex-Wife Strikes Back
My husband came home overjoyed to announce that we finally had a son. But the mother of the child was his late brother's widow. He claimed it was a noble sacrifice, using his dead brother's frozen samples to carry on the family line. But I had already seen the anonymous photos of them passionately embracing on a hotel balcony. The baby wasn't a clinical procedure; it was the product of their sordid, ongoing affair. When I went to the hospital, I walked in on a picture-perfect family. My mother-in-law swept into the room and pinned the family's priceless Legacy Diamond—a jewel meant only for the rightful wife—onto the illegitimate baby's blanket. She glared at me, mocking my two years of barrenness, and ordered me to wipe the jealous look off my face. A wave of profound disgust washed over me. The entire family had conspired to make a fool out of me. The cruelest irony was the medical report hidden in my purse: my IVF had just succeeded. I was pregnant with his child. But I refused to let my baby become a pawn in their twisted dynastic war. I quietly tore the ultrasound picture into pieces and flushed it down the toilet. Returning home, I put on a mask of heartbreaking disappointment and looked at my cheating husband. "I just want a place to go, in case I'm not welcome here anymore," I whispered. Blinded by guilt, he immediately signed over a multi-million-dollar penthouse solely into my name. He thought he was buying my silence. He didn't know I was building my fortress to ruin him./0/83988/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106203426&imageMogr2/format/webp)
