Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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His Unwanted Wife, The Nation's Hero
On our wedding anniversary, I came home to find my husband, Jace, celebrating with another woman in our living room. She was wearing my mother's necklace-the only thing recovered from the explosion that killed my parents. Jace laughed, calling it a "cheap piece of junk," and tried to write me a check to buy a new one. His family called my parents' ashes "garbage" and "unsanitary." When I confronted them, Jace sided with his mother, ordering me out of the penthouse I secretly owned. He let his friends publicly humiliate me, calling me a gold-digging leech with no background. But that wasn't the worst of it. When a gunman stormed the restaurant we were in, Jace shoved me directly into the line of fire to shield his mistress. The shotgun blast tore through my arm. As I lay bleeding on the marble floor, I stared at the man who had just used me as a human shield, his face pale with terror as he protected her. In that instant, every ounce of love I ever had for him died. The pain in my arm was nothing compared to the cold, hollow void that consumed my heart. He thought he was sacrificing a quiet, useless wife to secure his future. He had no idea he had just declared war on Captain Cilla Henson, West Point valedictorian and the most lethal operator of the Eagle Task Force./1/103100/coverorgin.jpg?v=c6bc15252b80407a69c5f580bd17f0fa&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Love I Don't Deserve
My name is Vivian Nelson, and I am raising my son on my own. Life has knocked me down more times than I can count, yet I still cling to hope because my child is everything to me, even while his illness threatens to take him away. The surgery costs more money than I could ever hope to save, but walking away was never an option. When my world felt like it was closing in, I forced myself to ask my boss, Carlos Rogers, for help. I never expected his answer. He was willing to support me, but his help came with a condition I never imagined. Left with nowhere else to turn, I agreed to Carlos's proposal. I had no idea how I would look my son in the eye later on, but life has never been kind or easy to me, and I have learned that survival often demands painful choices. Luck finally showed me some mercy when the surgery succeeded, and my precious boy slowly began to heal. Carlos carries himself with confidence and authority, while I have always believed I am not worthy of love. Because of that, I assumed our connection would stay strictly professional. He, however, does not see things the same way, and little by little, he finds his way past my defenses and into my heart./0/85892/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106211043&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Betrayed By Love, Reborn In Vengeance
The biting cold was the last thing I felt, a numbing seeping into my bones as I lay dying in our remote mountain cabin. My husband, Mark, had left me here to freeze and starve, locking the door and cutting the phone line, his eyes devoid of any love. He did it for my groundbreaking eco-city designs, which he planned to steal and present as his own, aided by my own sister, Chloe. I had confronted them, screaming and crying, showing them the printed evidence of their betrayal, but Mark merely looked at me with terrifying calmness. "You can't prove anything, Ava," he' d said, "It's your word against mine. And Chloe's." Then, like a fool clinging to the last sliver of hope, I had agreed to his suggestion of a trip to the cabin to "talk things out." The same cabin where he' d previously dismissed our miscarriage as "bad timing," letting our baby die for his ambition and covering his tracks with Chloe's scent. Now, shivering under a flimsy blanket, my fingers numb, all I could think of was the hidden hard drive containing irrefutable proof of their treachery. But what good was it? I was about to be just another tragic story, while they would have everything. Then, a sudden, violent jolt. My eyes snapped open. I wasn't in the cabin. The air was warm, stuffy, and smelled of stale coffee. I was at my desk at the firm. It was two weeks before the confrontation, before the blizzard, before my death. Impossible. A dream? A hallucination? Yet, it was undeniably real. A miracle. I was back. And this time, there would be no foolish hope. No direct confrontation. A slow, cold smile spread across my face. Mark and Chloe thought they could destroy me. They were about to find out how wrong they were. This time, I' d be setting the trap. This was for revenge./1/103413/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260326143954&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Vengeful Heart: Dangerously In Love With The Dark Prince
Five years ago, my fiancé and stepsister murdered my parents and stole our fortune, leaving me-eight months pregnant-to die. Now I'd returned under a new identity, hiding my beauty and marrying into the richest family. People whispered that I'd soon be cast out, but when I shed my disguise, layer after layer of my true self stunned everyone. My ex-fiancé's family crumbled, and he begged on his knees for mercy. My husband, powerful in both business and the underworld, pulled me close and declared to my ex, "Do you really think my wife needs your love?" Headlines revealed: I was his true love all along. My stepsister's face contorted with fury as she shrieked, "What are you so smug about? You're just a stand-in! Once his true love comes back, you'll be the town's laughingstock, just like I am!"/0/83702/coverorgin.jpg?v=ec7e029482bde83d5bd7da538af466dd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Royalty Trap: How I Beat My Killer Brother
My brother, Derek, stood smirking by our dying father' s bed, demanding the records. He thought he was outsmarting me, believing they held the map to the fortune I' d made in my first life. I just shrugged, letting him snatch what he believed was the jackpot, while I "foolishly" accepted our dilapidated, lien-ridden house. He gloated, flashing his new sports car, convinced he was a millionaire. Meanwhile, debt collectors were banging on my door, threatening to seize the property Derek thought was worthless anyway. He laughed in my face, bragging about the fake demo tapes he'd dug up and sold for a fortune. I knew he was about to crash and burn, just like last time. But the injustice still burned. In my first life, his greed and jealousy didn' t just ruin him; they led him to murder me in cold blood. I remembered every detail, every agonizing second of his betrayal. But this time, I wasn't the naive fool. This time, I' d come prepared. Because when I opened my eyes again, waking up right here, at Dad's bedside, I knew exactly what was coming – and exactly what I needed to do./0/75098/coverorgin.jpg?v=035c2d5dd65c1ab7ce40a6ebbaf27f33&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Abandoned But Unbroken: No More Begging For A Place
A tragic accident left Clara orphaned. Taken in by the Curtis family, she grew up pampered by Declan, their powerful head, mistaking his indulgence for love. That illusion shattered two years ago at her lavish birthday, when a drunken kiss earned her a slap and harsh words. "Who do you think you are?" Only then did Clara realize she was nothing more than a treasured pet, not a beloved woman. When she was diagnosed with terminal cancer, Declan flaunted his affair and forced her to date. The day she left for good, he finally snapped, "You want to leave? I don't agree!"/0/82607/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106200818&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Wife's Hidden Fortune
The phone rang near midnight, a jarring sound that sliced through the quiet of my small apartment, a familiar dread seizing me before I even picked up. It was the hospital, informing me my brilliant, valedictorian son, Alex, had been in an accident while working a late-night delivery shift, ending the call with the words no parent should ever hear: "He didn't make it." My world shattered, I rushed to City General, only to stumble upon a scene that made the grief even more unbearable: my seemingly frugal wife, Jessica, in a shimmering gown, showering a stranger's son with a luxury car and a downtown loft at a lavish hotel party. The horrifying realization crashed over me: the "stranger's son," Jake, was the hit-and-run driver who killed Alex, and Jessica knew, choosing to protect him, the child of her old flame, over our own son. At Alex's somber burial, as his small casket was lowered, Jessica abandoned us, rushing off because Jake had a "migraine," her tire crushing the simple flowers our neighbor laid at Alex's graveside. My grief twisted into a cold, unyielding rage, the agony in my chest mirroring the gnawing pain in my gut, later diagnosed as terminal cancer, a life worn down by sacrifices she never needed to make. How could the woman I loved, the partner I trusted for two decades, have maintained such a monstrous charade, building a fortune while we barely scraped by, all for another man and his son? With nothing left but a few months to live, I walked away from the city, from the lies, but the story wasn't over for Jessica, whose own dark quest for atonement was just beginning./0/63991/coverorgin.jpg?v=20241011090656&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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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=20260106204332&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=20260106223032&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=20260708152124&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=20260106223348&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=20260106221742&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=20251124111801&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)
