Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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When Innocence Masks Deceit
The memory was seared into my brain. The stale air of the abandoned warehouse, the terrified breathing of the hostage, and the shrill, righteous voice of rookie Emily Davis. That was my first life, a life that ended in disgrace because of her. Emily insisted she could calm the kidnapper, disregarding my direct order to stay put. She broke formation, stepped into the open, and a single gunshot echoed. Chris Walker, a college kid with his whole life ahead of him, slumped to the floor. Then, Emily started to cry, loud, gut-wrenching wails, as if she were the biggest victim. Our colleagues rushed to her side, offering sympathy while I stared at the cooling body of Chris Walker. My rage, cold and hard, filled my chest. "You wanted to help? You got him killed. You broke every rule in the book." Emily looked up, her face a mask of tear-streaked innocence. "Why are you so mean, Sarah? I was just trying to save a life." She theatrically banged her head against the wall, whimpering, "It should have been me!" Lieutenant Miller, my superior, cradled her like a child, then turned his cold eyes on me. "Jenkins, what the hell is wrong with you? Can't you see she's suffering?" The department needed a scapegoat. The media was having a field day, and it was easier to blame the cold, no-nonsense veteran, Sarah Jenkins, than the sweet, innocent rookie who "just wanted to help." They threw me to the wolves. My career was ruined, my name was mud. I died with that weight on my soul. Until I opened my eyes. The same stale air. The same sense of dread. I was back in the warehouse, moments before everything went wrong. Emily Davis was repeating the exact same words, getting ready to make the same fatal mistake. But not this time./0/35676/coverorgin.jpg?v=8a1d88479e36be06bc38c21689610233&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love and Letters (Ari and Sebastian's Story)
In school, she is the brightest, most cheerful girl you'll ever meet. The one who was lucky enough to be one of the boys. But Ari has held secrets her entire life; the darkness of her home life, and the fact that she has been in love with her best friend David for years. Those were hidden within her heart, locked even from her closest friends...until she lost a diary. One by one, her treasured secrets started spilling out, and her other best friend Sebastian, the one who was being forced to marry her, seems to be in on it./0/80417/coverorgin.jpg?v=80a6dffeda70604a6ad0c079f3319aa4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
After My Death, His Sight Returned
The October chill was nothing compared to the silence of my house as I returned from Alaska, desperate for my daughter, Sophia. "Sophia... there was an accident," Ethan, my husband, said coldly, instantly shattering my world. My little girl was gone, punished for breaking a trivial toy boat he cherished, a supposed memento from his childhood "savior," Chloe. I soon found Ethan’s laptop open, revealing Chloe Jennings, whose seductive purr confirmed the sickening fantasy that had overshadowed Sophia's life and our marriage. Even after Chloe burned Sophia's mementos and brutally assaulted me with a fire poker, Ethan defended her, offering "compensation" for my "inconvenience." His chilling pragmatism, viewing our dead daughter solely as a tool for his mistress’s agenda, unleashed a profound, bitter injustice within me. But after Chloe’s sadistic taunts and Ethan’s infuriating pleas for me to be "considerate" while she jabbed me with a syringe, mere escape wasn't enough. To truly shatter this monstrous delusion, I would stage my own death, vanishing completely and forcing Ethan to face a terrifying reality./0/84328/coverorgin.jpg?v=814760e3fb4451b7c9b7e035e8676b65&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Soul Survivor: Building Hope From Hell
The air around me reeked of gasoline, a sharp tang that somehow mixed with the familiar scent of ancient leather from my family' s priceless library. My phone buzzed, Maria's name flashing on the screen, but I ignored it, focused on the tiny, dancing flame of the lighter in my hand. Then came her text: "Jocelyn, what the HELL are you doing?! The staff is freaking out! They said you have gasoline! Are you insane? I'm calling the police to have you committed!" Insane. That' s what they' d label me. A cold smile touched my lips. Let them. They had no idea what was coming. Seven days from now, "The Veiling" would tear our world apart, merging it with a nightmarish spirit realm. I knew this because I had already lived through it. And died in it. The last time, I was naive, trusting my best friend, Maria, and my boyfriend, Ethan. I shared my meticulously prepared sanctuary, gave them everything. They rewarded me by pushing me outside to a monster. They feasted on my supplies, while I, disfigured and broken, became their pet. Then, they tortured me, sacrificing my very life force to empower their stolen haven, watching with triumphant glee as my world went dark. I died believing I was utterly alone, used, and discarded. I died wondering how those I trusted most could become such monsters. But I came back. Reborn. And this time, I remembered everything. This time, their twisted game was just the first step in my ultimate revenge./1/103257/coverorgin.jpg?v=9199f92790825f2c2e865f1a5d38ef83&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire Who Called Me Boring
He was the billionaire who called me "boring" and paid me to disappear. Three years later, Gage Schwartz came back begging, promising me the world he'd denied me for seven years. I took him back, and soon, I was pregnant with his twins. Then I heard the voicemail of him and his ex-wife, Brylee, laughing about how I was just a "comfortable placeholder." The shock caused me to miscarry. When I tried to leave, he launched a smear campaign, painting me as insane to the world. Then he locked me in our penthouse. He thought he could break me. So I faked a complete mental breakdown, escaped into a blizzard, and vanished. I built a new life, found real love, and became the artist I was always meant to be. But now, he's standing in my studio. And he wants me back./1/122186/coverorgin.jpg?v=158a1dd8ce404de9da1ed921c9732a66&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Wrong Room: Trapped By The Ruthless CEO
Six years ago, my mother's life support was about to be cut off over a $50,000 medical bill. Desperate, I agreed to sell myself to a wealthy client in Penthouse C. But in my blind panic, I swiped my key card into Penthouse B. Before I could explain, a terrifying stranger dragged me into the pitch-black room and ruthlessly claimed me. When dawn broke, I realized my catastrophic mistake. Worse, when my mother's nurse called, the stranger mistook it for a pimp and violently smashed my only phone to pieces against the wall. I fled the hotel in tears, only to discover the real client next door had already left. Because of that one wrong door, the money never came in time, and my mother passed away two days later. I was left with a shattered life and, nine months later, a pair of fatherless twins. For six years, I struggled in the dirt to raise my children alone. I thought I had finally escaped that nightmare. "We prefer to hire employees without family baggage," the interviewer sneered, rejecting me for a junior designer role. I didn't understand. If I was humiliated and rejected so harshly, why did the corporate HR department suddenly override the decision and send me a direct offer an hour later? It wasn't until I walked into the CEO's office that my blood ran cold. The ruthless billionaire sitting behind the desk, holding my six-year-old revenge note, was the monster from that dark room./1/103570/coverorgin.jpg?v=8f4d7c9e59ee3e618c8a4144a5e02f78&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Broken Wife, Billionaire Husband's Vengeance
My step-brother and his girlfriend ambushed me in my own penthouse, their eyes burning with a hatred I' d never seen. They called me a thief, a whore, and accused me of trying to steal their inheritance with the "bastard child" I was carrying. Their fists and stilettos rained down on me. A final, vicious kick to my stomach ended everything. I felt the life inside me slip away, a crimson tide staining the marble floor. They celebrated, believing they had protected their "family honor." My desperate pleas that the baby's father was the powerful Jerimiah Mcpherson were met with scornful laughter. "That old man can' t have kids!" they sneered. As they bound my hands and threw me into the pool to finish the job, the door exploded inward. It was him. Jerimiah. My husband. The look on his face as he saw me, bleeding and broken, and understood what they had done to our child, was not just rage. It was the promise of a slow, agonizing hell they had just unleashed upon themselves./1/107481/coverorgin.jpg?v=aecdb85ebee8b4ca438942cb4402429f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late, Mr. Winters: I'm No Victim
I lived in Ellery Winters’ penthouse for two years, playing the role of the quiet, unremarkable girl who fixed his financial messes in the dark. I thought we had a partnership, until I walked in to find my belongings packed in a black garbage bag near the door. Ellery stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, a silhouette of ice, refusing to even look at me. On the marble table sat a "Termination of Relations" agreement and a one-million-dollar check. "Sign it," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He was discarding me to marry my sister, Claudine, as part of a strategic merger with the Fitzgeralds—the very family that had abandoned me to the foster system years ago. My mother, Victoria, didn't want a daughter; she wanted a tool to secure the Winters’ fortune. Silas, his assistant, looked at me with pity, expecting the "trailer park girl" to break down and beg for the hush money. They all thought I was a nobody, a line item to be deleted from the balance sheet of their lives so they could move on to their high-society wedding. I felt a cold, sharp rage bubbling up, the kind that only someone who has lived in the shadows can truly feel. I didn't beg, and I didn't scream. I just looked at the man I had protected for two years and realized he had no idea who I actually was. Why did they think I was helpless? Why did Ellery believe he could buy my silence when I knew every dirty secret buried in his Cayman accounts? I ripped the million-dollar check into confetti and dropped it in the trash. As I stepped back into the decaying Fitzgerald mansion as an "Honorary Ward," I wasn't coming home for a reunion—I was coming to dismantle both of their empires from the inside./1/101380/coverorgin.jpg?v=9c319ee0bfb09a7d09cb57b5124b5e25&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Seven Years His Hidden Heartbreak
For seven years, I was the secret wife and ghostwriter for the famous author Holden Gillespie. I built his literary empire with my words, all while our marriage and our son, Leo, were kept hidden to protect his "single genius" image. Then he began a public affair with his new publicist, Kassidy. When I finally quit, he tried to kick me and our son out of our home to make room for her. The breaking point came on Leo's birthday. Holden showed up with a cake to "make things right." It was mango chiffon. He had forgotten-or never cared to know-that our son has a life-threatening allergy to mangoes. He almost killed his own child out of sheer, selfish negligence. In that moment, I knew it was over. I took our son, disappeared, and filed for divorce, cutting off all contact. But now, months later, he' s standing outside my new home in Santa Fe, looking desperate. "I'm not agreeing to this divorce," he says, his voice raw. "I never will."/0/80887/coverorgin.jpg?v=2fd6180d15ee6e63e70a3c26253a86e0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Second Chance: The Heiress Who Chose Freedom
The judge’s dull voice droned through the quiet courtroom, a familiar echo from a life I’d already painfully lived. My parents, Brenda and Rob, sat on opposite sides, their strained silence a prelude to the crucial decision before us. This was it, the pivotal moment my life would splinter once more. My younger brother, Kevin, piped up without hesitation, "I choose Mom!" A sickeningly smug grin spread across his face as he briefly met my eyes, a look that sent a chill down my spine. It was the exact same pronouncement, the same twist of fate, that had occurred in my previous, tragic existence. That first time, my own choice to cling to Mom had spiral-downed into years of agonizing hunger, her volatile, bitter moods, and eventually, my gruesome death at Kevin’s hand. His petty jealousy hadn't just festered; it had exploded after Mom’s ill-fated marriage to a rich man. He still carried this delusion of grandeur, convinced he held the blueprint to quick riches. He truly believed his warped memory of a future that never materialized for him, dreaming of hitting the jackpot with Mom. The irony was almost unbearable; he had no clue of the true misery his path would lead him to, nor the cold, cruel betrayal that ended my first life. The unfairness burned, that he was here, just as oblivious, just as dangerous. But unlike that former existence, I stood here now, armed with shattering foresight. When the judge’s gaze finally landed on me, "Sarah, and you?", I made a sharp, deliberate break from the past. I looked at my weak, easily-manipulated father, and with a quiet, unwavering voice, I sealed my new destiny: "I'll go with my father."/0/98408/coverorgin.jpg?v=00b875101e555ca7dda7a77fa5751edc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Devil's Lover: Be Mine Or Be Lost Forever
Dangling off a balcony ledge, Juliana heard Braydon murmur, "Be mine, and I'll save you." Only later did Juliana learn they had already shared one reckless night-a setup by her two-faced boyfriend chasing promotion. Sweet and compliant, she fit the mold of a perfect lover. He ruled the underworld, sharp and merciless, and she, an orphan, made easy prey. He taught her to kill and conquer, and she yielded to his every demand. When a damning tape surfaced and prison loomed, he sneered, "Know your place." By the time she let go, he broke down, begging, "Please... just one more chance."/1/103414/coverorgin.jpg?v=aebec728d2bce1d8e74c2086050b225f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Curvy Ex-Wife's Revenge: The Divorce He Gave, The Regret He Earned
Nicole had entered marriage with Walter, a man who never returned her feelings, bound to him through an arrangement made by their families rather than by choice. Even so, she had held onto the quiet belief that time might soften his heart and that one day he would learn to love her. However, that day never came. Instead, he treated her with constant contempt, tearing her down with cruel words and dismissing her as fat and manipulative whenever it suited him. After two years of a cold and distant marriage, Walter demanded a divorce, delivering his decision in the most degrading manner he could manage. Stripped of her dignity and exhausted by the humiliation, Nicole agreed to her friend Brenda's plan to make him see what he had lost. The idea was simple but daring. She would use another man to prove that the woman Walter had mocked and insulted could still be desired by someone else. All they had to do was hire a gigolo. Patrick had endured one romantic disappointment after another. Every woman he had been involved with had been drawn not to him, but to his wealth. As one of the heirs to a powerful and influential family, he had long accepted that this pattern was almost unavoidable. What Patrick wanted was far more difficult to find. He longed to fall in love with a woman who cared for him as a person, not for the name he carried or the fortune attached to it. One night, while he was at a bar, an attractive stranger approached him. Because of his appearance and composed demeanor, she mistook him for a gigolo. She made an unconventional proposal, one that immediately caught his interest and proved impossible for him to refuse./1/113426/coverorgin.jpg?v=319274e5ec07f62dc33b86d5c33a85e0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Ghost Surgeon's Secret Billionaire Twins
Adelia thought she was just heading upstairs to rest in the hotel suite arranged by her caring stepsister. But her champagne had been heavily drugged. In the pitch-black room, her rational thoughts melted away as she was violently pulled into the darkness by a terrifying stranger. The next morning, the heavy suite door was kicked open, and blinding camera flashes shattered her world. Her fiancé stormed in, hurling their prenuptial agreement directly at her bleeding cheek. "You make me sick! Violating our agreement like this. You are a disgusting, unfaithful whore!" Her stepsister squeezed to the front of the crowd, crying perfectly rehearsed tears of horror for the tabloid reporters, while her eyes gleamed with pure, unadulterated triumph. Desperate and trembling, Adelia begged her father for help, explaining she had been framed. But her father, the family CEO, only cared about his plummeting stock prices. He coldly stripped her of her inheritance, froze her trust funds, and had massive security guards physically drag her out of Manhattan. She hadn't just been betrayed; she had been completely slaughtered by the people she loved most. As the elevator plummeted toward the lobby, her tears dried into a bloody, silent vow. Six years later, Adelia stepped out of JFK Airport, flanked by her terrifyingly smart six-year-old twins. She was no longer a disgraced, pathetic victim. She had returned as a legendary, untouchable ghost surgeon, ready to rip her family's empire apart. And her very first move involves saving the life of the ruthless Wall Street predator who ruined her that night./0/83703/coverorgin.jpg?v=0ce166c803c714bb222fef0688ceed60&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Built From The Ashes
My last memory of my first life was Ethan, standing over my grave. He wasn't crying; he was smiling, that cruel twist of his lips I knew all too well. "I forgive you, Chloe," he' d whispered, putting his arm around Jessica as they walked away with the son I' d raised, leaving me to rot. They stripped me of everything: my apprenticeship, my dignity, decades of my life wasted raising their abandoned baby, "Lucky." When I got sick, they threw me away like trash, only to reveal their truth: Lucky was their child, conceived in a twisted plan to steal my future. I gasped, my eyes flying open, not in a coffin, but back in my 1995 body, young and alive, standing on a desolate back road. Just feet away, a baby carrier, and the wailing infant inside. In my past life, pity had washed over me, and I' d rushed to save him, unknowingly signing my own death warrant. This time, as I looked at the carrier, I felt nothing but a cold, hard fury. I turned my back and walked away, choosing a path of ice instead of kindness./1/106230/coverorgin.jpg?v=a8e8f32d2cc54557c255eafbd361ce4a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Medicine: His Silent Obsession
My stepmother sold me like a piece of inventory to a man known for breaking people just to plug the financial crater my father left behind. I was delivered to the Morton estate in the middle of a freezing storm, stripped of my phone, and told that if I didn't make myself useful, my senile grandfather would be evicted from his care facility by noon. The master of the house, Adonis Morton IV, was a monster living in a silent mausoleum, driven to the brink of madness by a sensory condition that turned every sound into a physical assault. When I was forced into his suite to serve him, he didn't see a human being; he saw a source of agony. In a fit of animalistic rage, he pinned me to the wall and nearly strangled me to death just for the sound of a shattering teacup. I only survived by using my grandfather’s secret herbal blends and pressure-point therapy to force his overactive nervous system into a drugged sleep. But saving him was my greatest mistake. Instead of letting me go, Adonis moved me into a guest suite connected to his own bedroom by a hidden door. He didn't just want me as a servant; he needed me as a human white-noise machine to drown out the demons in his head. The nightmare deepened when he took the promissory note that defined my freedom and tore it into confetti. By destroying the debt, he destroyed my exit strategy. He replaced my maid’s uniform with a silver silk dress that clung to my skin but did nothing to hide the dark, ugly bruises his fingers had left on my neck. He branded me as his "primary care associate," a title that was nothing more than a gilded cage. I felt a sickening sense of injustice as he forced me to sign a contract that banned me from contacting other men and required me to sleep wherever he slept. He looked at me with a possessive heat, calling me his "medication" rather than a woman. My family had sold my body, but Adonis Morton was intent on owning my very presence, using my grandfather’s medical bills as a leash to keep me within twenty feet of him at all times. Standing in a neglected greenhouse with mud staining my expensive silk, I realized I was no longer a victim waiting for rescue. If I was going to be his medication, I would learn how to be his cure—or his undoing. I began clearing the weeds with a cold, calculated frenzy, determined to turn this prison into my laboratory. He thinks he has trapped a helpless girl, but I am going to pry open the cracks in his stone walls until his entire world comes crashing down./0/18156/coverorgin.jpg?v=a420e2507169778b97b8d8ba1c6b831d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Where We Belong
How does it feel to be accepted by your mate despite being an Omega? Accepted and yet he needs to marry someone else while you are secretly pregnant? Pregnant when you're a boy? Would you tell your mate despite having the consequences of your child being taken away? Or fool another Alpha and let him believe that child was his?/0/97626/coverorgin.jpg?v=e2d3aaba525ccf8269907e11029d8beb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Dominant CEO
Book 1: When a temporary job opened up, Jenna, still inexperienced in the workforce, didn't hesitate—she went straight for it. At first, everything looked like a dream come true. Then, out of nowhere, the rules changed. "Tomorrow, you'll wear lilac underwear!" The instruction was as weird as it sounded, a tiny detail that promised nothing about this stint would be normal. Micheal turned heads wherever he went, but there was more to this CEO than just good looks. He carried a secret that would turn Jenna's world upside down. Book 2: Apollo's life suddenly flipped around after his wife double-crossed him right at his big brother's wedding. Just like that, he found himself a single dad, raising six-year-old Ares. Now, Apollo knew one thing for sure: his son needed a mother. Erin Dixon checked every box—except for her ex-husband, who could give "problematic" a run for its money. Meanwhile, Milo Lancaster—Adonis's close friend—had his own storm brewing. His family kept pushing him to settle down and produce an heir. "Marriage and kids, Milo!" But he wanted none of it! An arranged marriage seemed like the easy way out, at least on paper. Except things got complicated the second he actually started caring about Claudine. Who knew a family tradition could turn into something so unpredictable? Book 3: Gustav never expected those old feelings to rush back when he saw Madilyn again after so many years. The spark was still there—too bad she shut him down right away. "I'm with someone else." But had she truly moved on? Or was there still hope for something to grow between them?/0/60394/coverorgin.jpg?v=3aadb996df74c44e216bd6c5640a02c2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Escape From Love's Dark Clutches
Heather's ex-boyfriend, Jeremy, who had vanished two years earlier, was surprisingly revealed to be the uncle of her current partner. In public, Jeremy projected a cold and arrogant demeanor, yet he harbored an obsessive and near-maddening fixation on Heather. In her desperation to escape Jeremy's dominating influence, Heather turned to Nathan, whom she perceived as a kind-hearted businessman. However, she was unaware of Nathan's true nature. He, too, had sinister intentions and, like Jeremy, aimed to exploit her. Trapped in a dangerous love triangle, Heather found herself unable to escape./0/86519/coverorgin.jpg?v=6c1c778aab3d86b23bfb1c9a834181ea&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Second Life, True Love
The official notification arrived on a Monday morning: Chloe Davis, my son David's fiancée, was confirmed dead in a car accident. I dropped the document in the trash without a change in expression, because I already knew. I had lived this life once before. And in that life, I had died. In my first life, Chloe's death destroyed David. My adopted son, Mark, along with Chloe's sisters, Olivia and Sophia, exploited his grief with ruthless precision. They drugged him, siphoned off his inheritance, and bled my company dry. When I finally saw the truth, it was too late. I confronted them, but they came for me that night. Mark, the boy I raised, ended my life with a tire iron. Then, darkness. And then, light. I woke up three months before my own murder, given a second chance. The doting father was dead, replaced by a man forged in betrayal. This time, I wouldn't just protect my son; I would dismantle their schemes piece by piece. When Chloe's fake death notice arrived, I felt only cold resolve. The game had just begun. And this time, I knew all the rules./0/86832/coverorgin.jpg?v=c6a4938ac3f335e916c0e1138d997e9f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
