Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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The Chef Who Refused to Break
Sarah Miller was the golden child of the Culinary Institute of America Prime, her perfect knife cuts and innovative dishes earning her an easy path to culinary stardom. Then, out of nowhere, Brittany, the clumsy, struggling student, presented a dish that was not just extraordinary, but impossibly perfect, far beyond her capabilities. My own critically acclaimed duck was overshadowed, then my skills mysteriously vanished, causing me to fumble even the simplest techniques. Dean Antoine, my mentor, publicly accused me of fraud, expelling me from the prestigious CIAP in front of baffled critics. I was left broken, my career ruined, cleaning grease traps in a rundown diner, while Brittany became a national sensation. How could her sudden genius be so flawless, so familiar, borrowing my very ideas before I could even develop them? Was I going crazy, or was this calculated? Then I remembered the tiny, almost invisible blinking device Brittany wore. A cold realization hit me: her "genius" wasn't her own; it was stolen. Whatever it was, it was also actively draining me. They wanted me gone, but they had awakened something far more dangerous: a chef who understood true skill wasn't about flashy tricks, it was about rock-solid fundamentals, and I would master every single one to expose the truth and reclaim my name./0/86644/coverorgin.jpg?v=2666ab8d2f82237cae5c31a78be6d273&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Unwanted Wife, Unseen Torment
Another wave of pain hit me, a familiar, gut-wrenching cramp. I was bleeding again. This was the tenth time. Each time it happened, my husband, Liam Stone, would bring a woman home. A woman who looked exactly like his first love. Tonight was no different. He stood in our bedroom doorway, a woman by his side he introduced as Maya, flatly stating, "She' ll be staying with us for a while." His eyes never met mine; they were solely on her. Then, his words like stones, he commanded, "You' ll be serving us." I pushed myself up, the fresh bloodstain on the mattress a grim testament to my latest loss. My body ached, my world felt numb, yet the familiar routine played out as I fetched the wine. I returned to find them on my bed, Liam kissing her, a scene I had been forced to witness nine times before. A single drop of red wine accidentally splashed onto Maya' s pristine white dress. She gasped, theatrically exclaiming, "My dress! It' s ruined! This is a limited edition!" Liam' s face turned to thunder. He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. "You clumsy bitch," he snarled, then pulled out his phone. He started a live broadcast, aiming the camera at my face, then at Maya' s stained dress, and finally, the blood on the bed. "Look at her," he boomed to the world. "This is my wife, Chloe Miller. She can' t even do a simple task without messing it up." Then, he shoved my face closer to Maya' s dress, barking, "Lick it clean." My blood ran cold. "Liam, please," I begged, humiliation clawing at my throat. "Don' t do this." "Lick it," he repeated, his voice menacing. "Or I' ll find other ways to make you pay. Maybe you' d prefer to serve more than just one of my guests tonight?" His threat hung in the air, vile and real. I closed my eyes and leaned forward, the taste of wine and cheap perfume filling my mouth. He laughed, a harsh, grating sound, then released my hair, and I collapsed. "Get out," he spat. "And don' t come back in here tonight." I crawled out, another sharp pain tearing through my abdomen, warm blood gushing between my legs. He left me in the yard, naked, bleeding onto the cold, damp grass. Ten miscarriages. Each time, a new woman, a new cruelty. Lying there, under the cold moon, clarity dawned. This would never end. He would only ever destroy me. As the last warmth left my body, a new resolve settled in. It was time to see Arthur Stone. My "good fortune" was broken; I couldn't give Liam a child. I was done. I had to leave. Arthur, his face etched with mirroring grief, agreed to help me. But before I could escape, Maya found it-the small, simple urn holding the ashes of my nine miscarried children. Liam, ever her protector, kicked me into unconsciousness. I awoke to a new horror: a video compilation of my most private moments with him, twisted clips set to mocking music, broadcast for the world to see. He then forced me to donate blood until my heart nearly stopped. He froze my bank accounts. I crawled home from the hospital, only to find Maya burning my mother' s jade hairpin, my last connection to her. The urn was gone, its contents scattered. The next morning, the nine pear trees I' d planted were uprooted, replaced by rose bushes for her. That was the end. With Arthur' s help, I left the country, divorce papers filed on my behalf. Liam laughed when he received them, certain I' d crawl back. He was wrong. He only realized his mistake when he discovered Maya' s lies, the truth about her, and me. He tried to win me back. But it was too late. I was gone, never coming back. His family' s business collapsed, his health failed. The last I heard, Liam Stone, once the man who had everything, was a reclusive, crippled beggar, haunting his desolate mansion, obsessively planting pear trees and crying out my name in his madness./1/109680/coverorgin.jpg?v=c892a84fd8bfc93c4b174602d5ab0581&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The CEO's Betrayal: My Escape
After eight years, I watched the man I loved, Ethan Morgan, celebrate a success he' d stolen from me. He stood on stage with his assistant, Bella, giving her the credit and the massive commission that was rightfully mine. His CEO smile, once reserved for me, was now exclusively for her. He claimed it was punishment for my mother' s engagement to his wealthy father, calling her a gold-digger and me a co-conspirator in her "scheme." Later, he texted that he was "out of town for a few days." But on Instagram, I saw the truth: a selfie of him and Bella on his private jet, on a romantic getaway. In the background of their photo was a small, silver-framed picture of us from our trip to Santorini. The violation was absolute. Our entire life together was a lie. That was it. I sent my resignation, effective immediately, and booked a one-way ticket to Oregon. I was done being his victim./0/97351/coverorgin.jpg?v=4bc3a5acda17d4c1b981a33c5f9ccae7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Crossed Fates
Leonard Cross has built an empire on precision, ruthlessness, and control. As the CEO of Cross Industries, his name commands fear as much as respect. To his board, he's a visionary; to the world, he's a self-made billionaire; but behind the sleek offices and power suits lies a man hollowed out by secrets - and guilt. Years ago, a hostile takeover of a smaller tech company ended in tragedy when the owner, a man named Daniel Hart, lost everything... and then his life. Leonard buried the incident and his conscience along with it, telling himself it was just business. Now, years later, Leonard runs his company like a fortress - until she walks in. Stephanie Reed arrives one morning as his newly appointed executive assistant, recommended by an elite agency. She's efficient, poised, and impossibly capable. She anticipates his every need before he even voices it. Coffee exactly the way he likes it. Meeting notes already summarized. Calls screened before he even asks. Leonard, who's fired three assistants in a month, finds himself begrudgingly impressed - and unsettled. From the very first day, there's something about her that feels too familiar. The curve of her handwriting. The way she watches him when she thinks he isn't looking. Her calm, unreadable expression when his temper flares. She never flinches - even when others do./0/85022/coverorgin.jpg?v=d54ee61e22e334fa0363cf851489a4cd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love, Loss, And A Bitter Recipe
The stage lights seared, the bitterness of defeat choking me. Julian Vance, my mentor, my guide, held Chloe Davies' hand high in victory – my best friend, clutching my trophy, won with my family' s recipes. Cameras zoomed in on her tear-streaked, happy face as I screamed accusations, met only with pity. My desperate attempt at sabotage backfired, solidifying my reputation as a sore loser, my career over, my family' s legacy a joke. Humiliation burned, consuming everything until nothing was left. Then, I blinked. Harsh fluorescent kitchen lights, the metallic scent of stainless steel, the sweet aroma of butter and sugar – I was back. Back to the final patisserie presentation, clutching a piping bag, standing between Chloe and Julian. He inspected our cakes, mine flawless, hers a rich chocolate raspberry torte – the first recipe she stole. "Your technique is flawless, Ava," he' d said, "but it has no soul." Then he' d turned to Chloe, his voice dripping with paternal pride, "This, my dear, has heart. A talent that cannot be taught." Chloe had blushed, claiming it an "old family recipe." A lie. My family' s recipe. He declared her the winner, his prodigy. His proprietary gleam wasn' t just simple favoritism; it was calculated. He never just witnessed her betrayal; he orchestrated it. My ruin was his design, a deliberate elevation of her, a calculated dismissal of me. This time, there would be no screaming. This time, I knew./0/92809/coverorgin.jpg?v=633b8ca234f88056316196f334628540&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Rebirth And Redemption: Loving The Devil Everyone Tried To Escape
Word spread that Caleb was heartless, dangerous, and spent more time with a snake than people. Even at home, he kept his wife, Lilliana, at arm's length. In her previous life, Lilliana listened to her cousin, walked away with their children, and met a cruel end by that same cousin's hand. After rebirth, she moved closer to Caleb, determined to hold on. Caleb let her play her games, certain she'd vanish after getting even. Instead, she clung to him tighter. He warned, "Hell trails me wherever I go. You sure?" Lilliana smiled, "If you're there, I'll call it home."/0/81129/coverorgin.jpg?v=cf5711d94a1a70040568df2881845561&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reclaiming Her Crown: The Sterling Saga
Sarah Miller was the quiet, scar-faced tech genius at Apex Innovations, engaged to the charming CEO, Ethan Hayes. She just wanted to build something amazing, leading Apex' s most critical project, Nightshade, her professional pride and joy. Then, Ethan introduced Brittany Evans, a bubbly, blonde "coding prodigy" intern. Tasked with mentoring her, I quickly saw through Brittany's dazzling smile: she was utterly incompetent, yet constantly slipped into Ethan's private office. My honest performance review, highlighting her lack of technical depth, became my corporate death sentence. The next day, Ethan publicly stripped me of everything. My lead role on Nightshade, my groundbreaking project, and even my earned Apex Innovator Fellowship-all given to Brittany. He then stood before the entire engineering department and, with icy words, accused me of "pettiness" and "jealousy." The applause for Brittany was a hammer blow, each clap echoing my humiliation and betrayal. How could the man I loved, the man who supposedly protected me, do this? The injustice was unbearable. All my loyalty, my years of work, thrown away for an intern who spent two weeks charming the boss. It made no sense. Why would Ethan sacrifice his company' s future for her? My mind reeled, desperate for an answer that wasn't just "he's a fool." As I walked out of Apex, leaving my old life behind, something shifted. The glasses came off. My mousy facade crumbled. The quiet engineer was dead. Because the truth was far more complex: Sarah Miller was a carefully constructed lie. And now, the real Sarah-a Sterling heiress, a spy with a score to settle-was finally ready to play./1/119414/coverorgin.jpg?v=37bccf3afc762835f5fc982d0feb27d8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn To Divorce My Billionaire Husband
Evangeline spent three years bending herself into the perfect, silent wife for her cold husband, Kellan. But when the true heiress of her adoptive family, Catalina, appeared, everything unraveled. Evangeline was exposed as a fake, the cuckoo who had stolen the nest. Her adoptive parents instantly cast her aside, disgusted by her existence. Kellan didn't even blink. He ruthlessly abandoned her for his new soulmate, Catalina. Stripped of her name and identity, Evangeline was left to die. She drowned in the icy sea, futilely scratching at shattered wood chips from a sunken yacht. As the saltwater filled her lungs, she felt a terrifying dread. Why did her years of absolute devotion mean nothing? Why was she thrown away like garbage the second the real daughter appeared? Opening her eyes, a frantic gasp for air tore from her throat. She wasn't drowning. She sat in the back seat of a Maybach, next to Kellan on the rainy night when Katarina first met Kellan. This time, the submissive wife was dead. She pulled the shivering Catalina directly into their car, forcing her into Kellan's pristine world. Then, she threw a divorce agreement onto Kellan's dining table. "Let's get a divorce, Kellan." When he threatened to freeze her assets, she didn't panic. She calmly walked into his corporate headquarters and slammed a scandalous press release on his desk. This time, she would be the one to open the cage door and personally deliver the real songbird back to them./0/94107/coverorgin.jpg?v=3c40bc5fe3613922e9da28c5d42fb627&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When The Unwanted Bride Becomes The Most Pampered Heiress
On her wedding day, Marissa learned she wasn't her parents' real daughter. Once the true heiress returned, her fiancé and adoptive parents cast her off to a rural backwater-and into an arranged marriage. Only the "village" turned out to be the nation's most exclusive enclave, and her birth family led an elite dynasty that spoiled her rotten. Garages held rare supercars; vaults opened to couture and jewels. School or family business, she chose her pace. Her "rustic" husband proved lethal, loyal, and absurdly protective. Her ex crawled back, yet she cut him off cold, "Stay the hell away from me."/1/107085/coverorgin.jpg?v=8fadd13b231c04e48c12bc590811148c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Forgotten Genius: Rising From Ruin
I woke up in a sterile hospital room with a throbbing head and a memory as blank as the white walls. Before I could even ask who I was, my fiancé, Beckham, stormed in with my sister, Isamar, and ended our engagement with a look of pure disgust. "Stop the act, Chanel," he sneered, accusing me of crashing my car just to hound him for money. "The accident won't save you this time. You're a pathetic gold digger, and you just lost your meal ticket." The nightmare only deepened from there. My own mother disowned me over the phone, freezing my bank accounts and calling me a disgrace for "faking a suicide" just to get Beckham's attention. When I returned to the family estate to reclaim my legal documents, my mother slapped me across the face, and my brother, Liam, tried to beat me, treating me like a common thief in my own home. Left with nothing but a black business card and a debt I couldn't pay, I fled into a rainy night on a stolen ATV. My adrenaline was crashing, and my hands shook on the handlebars as I rounded a sharp, wet curve. I lost control, skidding across the asphalt and smashing head-first into a luxury Maybach. The man who stepped out of the car was none other than Duke Montgomery-the most feared, powerful man in the city, a "disfigured recluse" the tabloids whispered about in hushed tones. I didn't understand why my own blood treated me like trash or why my sister was smirking while I bled in the mud. I was a stranger to my own past, discarded by everyone I was supposed to love, and now I owed a fifty-thousand-dollar repair bill to a man who looked like he could crush me with a single word. But as I looked into Duke's cold, aristocratic eyes, something inside me snapped. I didn't beg for mercy. I stood my ground and offered a high-stakes negotiation. "I will work it off," I told him, stepping into his car and choosing to walk straight into the lion's den to take back the life they stole from me./0/18186/coverorgin.jpg?v=5f8b75a38b85999d4e7e31268a3c42e1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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His Betrayal, Her Unborn Child
My family was a masterpiece, but underneath, it was rotting. We were the envy of the art world, with my formidable mother, respected father, and charming brother. And then there was me, Chloe, the sensitive artist they cultivated like a prized orchid. But I felt the chill of a long-buried secret, making me a stranger in my own home. Then I met Liam, an architect who built solid things, and for the first time, I felt seen. His love was a warm room in my cold house, and when I became pregnant, I imagined our perfect future. "We're pregnant," I whispered to him, and his face lit up with overwhelming joy. He became the doting husband, planning our child' s future, a warmth I' d craved my whole life. Life was perfect, until the prenatal genetic screening results arrived. He stood rigid, staring at his computer, the warmth draining from the room. "Liam, what is it?" I asked, my voice trembling as he turned, his face a mask of cold fury. "We have to get rid of it," he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "The baby?" I stammered, unable to process his words. "Don't call it that," he snapped back, demanding I terminate the pregnancy tomorrow. Before I could react, my family walked in, and I rushed to them, crying, "Liam… he wants me to have an abortion! He won't tell me why!" My mother' s perfectly manicured nails dug into my skin, her voice like chipping ice. "He's right, Chloe," she said, her grim resolve mirroring Liam's. "You have to do this," my father added, his tone leaving no room for argument. My brother sneered, "Don't be stupid, Chloe. You can't have this… thing." They closed in, calling my child "unnatural" and "tainted." Their persuasion turned to force, dragging me towards a car that would take me to a clinic. I fought, screamed, and clawed, a wild animal fighting for its young. I escaped into a labyrinth of city alleys, their footsteps pounding behind me. I slipped, crashing hard, and felt a sharp, searing pain. A crimson stain spread across my dress; my baby, my innocent life, was slipping away. My family stood over me, their faces impassive, utterly devoid of love, as I blacked out. I awoke in a sterile mental institution, committed by them. For months, I was a ghost in a white gown, drugged, tormented, chipped away until I died, alone, my family' s secret safe. Then, I opened my eyes. I was in my bed, whole, my stomach flat. I scrambled for my phone; it was the day the genetic test results were due. The day my world had ended. And it was all about to happen again. But this time, I had a memory, a prophecy. I had died, and now I was back, filled with a cold, clear purpose: to get the report, to understand why, and to make them pay./0/22080/coverorgin.jpg?v=0fef1b0e62b94a2cd66b5a0394c2bd05&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Loving an alien
An experiment resulted in entry of two alien human hybrids to Earth. They fell in love with the human girls. Rowen: I think I love her. I think I can't continue living without her. But I must leave this planet soon. I should leave her alone in grief. Can she be happy if I leave? Should I continue loving her and leave without a notice? Is it right? Hazel: I have fallen for him without knowing anything about him. Should I confess my feelings and be together with him or continue staying as his friend? Does he love me back when I confess or leave me shattered by rejecting me? Will they overcome their confusions and live a lovely life together or go in their separate paths? What is their destiny which brought a human and an alien together? After knowing his identity, will the love still continue? Read the story to find out the love story of them./1/108059/coverorgin.jpg?v=393def3477735f731032cfec8cf2028d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Bound To The Ruthless Wall Street Butcher
I was trapped in a velvet booth at Le Bernardin, Arthur Sterling’s hand crawling up my knee as he whispered that my father would be in handcuffs by morning if I didn't spend the night with him. Desperate to escape, I lunged at the only man more dangerous than Arthur—Gunnar Kirk, the "Butcher of Wall Street"—and kissed him in front of every camera in the room, thinking I was choosing the lesser of two evils. I was wrong; Gunnar didn't just play along, he took possession, forcing me into a cold-blooded contract to be his fake fiancée to save his corporate image from an SEC investigation. While my greedy stepmother and sister were busy fighting over the diamonds he sent, I was living in terror, trying to hide the one thing that truly mattered: my infant son, hidden away with a nanny in a cramped Queens apartment. When my baby suffered a febrile seizure and I rushed to the ER, I looked up to see Gunnar standing in the doorway, his glacial eyes boring into me as he realized the "ruined" socialite was hiding a child from her past. I tried to sabotage the wedding, setting up my fame-hungry stepsister as a decoy bride so I could flee to Switzerland with my son, but Gunnar caught me on the fire escape before I could take a single step toward freedom. He threw me over his shoulder like a sack of flour and told me that if I didn't walk down that aisle, he would personally ensure my father rotted in prison. We stood at the altar and exchanged vows in a ceremony built on blackmail and lies, but as we walked out as husband and wife, Gunnar didn't look at me with affection; he turned to his assistant and ordered a total deep dive into the medical records I had spent a year trying to erase. "Find out exactly what happened during those nine months in Switzerland, and tell me who that baby really belongs to."/0/67179/coverorgin.jpg?v=92820b55ddaf3bc2d667aca57b1777e7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Scorned Bride Turned Out To Be Legendary
Rumors claimed that Fernanda, newly back with her family, was nothing more than a violent country bumpkin. Fernanda just flashed a casual, dismissive grin in response. Another rumor suggested that the usually rational Cristian had lost all sense, madly in love with Fernanda. This frustrated her. She could tolerate gossip about herself, but slander against her beloved crossed the line! Gradually, as Fernanda's multiple identities as a celebrated designer, a savvy gamer, an acclaimed painter, and a successful business magnate came to light, everyone realized they were the ones who had been fooled./1/109682/coverorgin.jpg?v=f9a5860fbeaadba019c69f34a5b84643&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Prison To My Billionaire's Embrace
On the anniversary of my mother's death, I found my husband in our bed with my best friend. The betrayal shattered me, just as a similar affair had driven my mother to suicide years before. Consumed by a blinding rage, I exposed their secrets to the world and destroyed her career. My vengeance was swift and brutal, but it was I who ended up behind bars for a year and a half. They watched as I was dragged away, their faces a mask of disgust. They built a life on the ruins of mine, while I was left with nothing but the four walls of a prison cell. But in that desolate place, my anger finally burned out, replaced by a quiet resolve to rebuild. Five years later, I walked out a new woman. I had found peace, a new family, and a love I never thought possible. I thought the past was buried, until I ran into him again. He looked at my simple dress with pity, offering me money and a ride home, completely unaware that the man waiting for me there could buy and sell him a thousand times over./0/84375/coverorgin.jpg?v=bc8410fbae472bbd8497aca8cf12a6ce&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Stolen Kidney: My Husband's Betrayal
Six months ago, our perfect family shattered. My son, Leo, suffered a profound brain injury, and I lost a kidney in a traumatic hit-and-run. My husband, Andrew, was my rock, always there with a soothing hand, a comforting word. But then, I heard it. A whispered confession from his office. Andrew, my loving husband, orchestrated Leo' s accident to gain an inheritance for his secret son. My hit-and-run was a setup, designed to harvest my kidney for his mistress, who needed a transplant. The man I married, the father of my child, tried to murder our son and carved me up like an animal for his other woman. He forced me to be a human blood bag for her, then threatened to bleed Leo dry and replace him with his illegitimate child. The ultimate horror struck at a party, when Andrew, consumed by rage, shoved Leo, causing a severe head injury. His ultimate act of betrayal? Leaving our bleeding son to fuss over his mistress' s minor scratch. How could the man I loved be such a monster? How could he betray us so utterly? The rage, the grief, the sheer disbelief threatened to consume me. But as he walked away, abandoning our child on the floor, something within me snapped. I would not break. I would play along, biding my time. My son was not an accident; he was a target. And now, so was I. But they had underestimated this mother' s rage. I was going to fight back./0/80482/coverorgin.jpg?v=6a0ffc6efc11decfcde419a3a1b39d2f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Hidden Founder's Fury
My daughter, Lily, just won the Grand Prize at the California State Youth Tech Challenge, securing a coveted spot at MIT’s summer program. Pure joy lit up her face after years of dedication to her "Eco-Clean Bot." But the applause died instantly as a woman, Jessica Hayes, announced her intention to buy the award for her son with a $500,000 donation. The organizer, citing a "sponsor’s priority clause," surprisingly agreed. Jessica and her smug son, Brandon, mocked Lily, sneering that her hard work was useless against their family’s money. Then, the man I trusted, Mark Olsen, CEO of *my* company and Lily’s father, brazenly sided with them. He publicly declared Jessica the "love of his life" and abandoned us, choosing his mistress over his daughter’s dream. My heart shattered watching Lily’s face crumple, seeing her future stolen by this betrayal. How could the man whose career I built, using my own money, so cruelly humiliate us both? But as he sealed his fate, denying his own family, I knew this charade had served its purpose. The time for the true power behind Nova Dynamics to step into the light, and exact a cold, precise vengeance, had arrived./0/81131/coverorgin.jpg?v=cfd4ead049de097a019484eb26aa749e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Servant to Sovereign
Thanksgiving Day dawned, and like every year, I, Sarah Miller, had toiled alone since dawn, preparing a lavish feast for my ungrateful family. As we finally sat down to eat, my mother, Eleanor, announced her estate plans: her house, her cabin, and all her savings went to my brothers, Mark and Ben, and their families, while I was simply assigned, openly, the "daughter's duty" of becoming her live-in caregiver. My brothers chimed in, echoing how it "made sense" because I was "good at taking care of people" and didn't have a "demanding job," effectively erasing my sacrifices and our own family' s small life. Years of quietly giving everything, from quitting my job to care for my father alone, to secretly funneling our meager savings to my brothers, culminated in this brazen dismissal of my worth, leaving me with a bitter, burning question: what exactly had my mother ever done for me, besides exploit and ignore me? As their smug faces expected my silent submission, something inside me snapped, and with a guttural cry, I heaved, sending the entire Thanksgiving dinner-turkey, mashed potatoes, shattered china-crashing to the floor, marking the explosive end of my servitude and the beginning of my fight for freedom./1/103518/coverorgin.jpg?v=421b1207be2a6d94e3a47abc5cd13e0c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
