Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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The Betrayed Distiller's Triumph
For ten years, I was the unseen force behind Hewitt Distilleries, my family' s secret yeast and unique aging techniques turning a failing bourbon into an industry legend. I even convinced my parents to mortgage their last possession to save the company. Then, at the Kentucky Bourbon Festival gala, my wife, Nicole, stood on stage with her ex-boyfriend, Ryan, stealing all my credit and announcing my dismissal for being "unambitious." She' d set me up, sent me on a wild goose chase while she publicly betrayed me, then tried to activate a non-compete clause from our divorce papers, ensuring I could never distill again. How could the woman I loved, the company I built, treat me like dirt and try to erase my very existence? It wasn't just a professional slight; it was a deep, personal humiliation that curdled a decade of my life. But as they gloated, thinking they' d won, they had no idea I had just handed them a ticking time bomb. The moment Nicole called, panicking about a ruined Japanese deal, I knew my quiet revenge had just begun, and I was finally ready to walk away and build something truly mine./0/89486/coverorgin.jpg?v=44ed1726c966cc7bd09b6d9b43766a6f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
FROM MRS. TO ME
"From Mrs. to Me" is a story about Ava, a woman who navigates a tumultuous marriage and emerges stronger and wiser. With the support of her mother, Emma, Ava finds the courage to prioritize her own happiness and well-being. After a divorce, Ava rebuilds her life, focuses on her career, and rediscovers herself. Through her journey, Ava learns valuable lessons about self-love, self-respect, and the importance of prioritizing one's own identity. The story explores themes of female empowerment, personal growth, and the challenges of relationships. Ultimately, Ava's story is one of transformation and liberation, as she finds happiness and fulfillment on her own terms. The book serves as a powerful reminder for women to prioritize their own worth, happiness, and well-being above societal expectations./1/113108/coverorgin.jpg?v=c5f5d205f3ef78cb51ff9a57dce41adc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Found My Worth, Unlike Them
For three years, I was the unpaid maid, cook, and accountant for my boyfriend Kieran's family. His mother, Jeanie, never let me forget my place. "You're not legally family," she'd say, whenever I asked for basic respect. Then I found the messages on his phone. He and Jeanie were arranging his engagement to Carolina Farley, a wealthy heiress. They called me a placeholder—someone who was just "around" until a better option came along. Jeanie sat me down and told me it was time to leave, confident I had nowhere else to go. She was wrong. While they slept, I earned my CPA license. While they spent, I saved every dollar. While they dismissed me as "just the girlfriend," I bought my own condo. When Kieran finally came crawling back, begging for another chance, I had one thing to say: "I'm already married. To a man who didn't need three years to know my worth." He thought I'd wait forever. He thought wrong./1/108415/coverorgin.jpg?v=20de5bb9175113555955e665de0106ad&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Billionaire's Fake Savior: Unmasking The Truth
I was a disgraced heiress hiding as a dishwasher in a high-end club, scrubbing lipstick off glasses until my fingers went numb. One night, I was forced to deliver a bottle of vintage whiskey to the penthouse, only to find the tech billionaire Kenan Cervantes collapsing from a lethal neural storm. I used my surgeon’s training to save his life, holding him in the dark until his fever finally broke. The next morning, the world I knew shattered. My coworker Tiffany, who hadn't even stepped foot in the room, claimed my identity as the savior. She signed a non-disclosure agreement and walked away with a $200,000 check, while I was accused of stealing the whiskey and had my entire month's wages forfeited as punishment. While Tiffany was flaunting Chanel suits and posting photos from his balcony, I was being shoved into the mud by my abusive foster father in a dark alley. I watched from the shadows as Kenan stepped into his luxury car, looking right through me with nothing but cold distaste. To him, I was just "street trash" cluttering the sidewalk, while the imposter was the "angel" who had stabilized his heart. The injustice felt like a physical weight. I had quieted the noise in his brain and kept him from the brink of death, yet I was the one facing eviction and hunger. I didn't understand how he could be a genius and still be so blind to the truth, rewarding a thief while I rotted in the basement. Everything reached a breaking point when Tiffany forced me to sneak into his penthouse to help her maintain the lie. But Kenan returned from Tokyo early, finding me on the terrace with his military-grade protection dog. The beast that had tried to bite Tiffany was now resting its head in my lap, protecting me from its own master. Kenan dropped his briefcase, his eyes locking onto mine as the fragmented memories of the storm finally clicked into place. "You," he whispered./1/102314/coverorgin.jpg?v=8be5a01ecb7fb4e13c58a997fab876a9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Three-Year Lie: A Wife's Vengeance
My husband, Edgar, and my mentee, Amelie, betrayed me. He staged a car crash that left me with amnesia, then held me captive for three years, convincing me he was my protector. Meanwhile, Amelie stole my identity, my family's fortune, and became the new "Elise Everett." My parents died of grief, believing I was dead. A slap from Amelie shattered the lies, and my memory came flooding back. I learned the horrifying truth: my perfect life was a prison built on my grave. Forced to play the part of a broken, amnesiac lover, I endured their cruelty, secretly gathering evidence of their crimes. I overheard Edgar confess everything-the crash, my parents' deaths, his plan to keep me as his "obedient pet" forever. He wanted to parade his new wife at his birthday gala, a final humiliation for me. So I offered to plan the party for him. He thought it was a gesture of love. He had no idea I was planning his downfall./0/86201/coverorgin.jpg?v=7f7998ee82f256836dd0726afed9ef6e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Woman Who Stole Everything
The old house felt wrong, but we still visited my husband' s stroke-stricken mother, Susan, every Sunday. Then, a new caregiver, Olivia, appeared – too young, too perfect, her presence immediately unsettling. My father-in-law, Robert, was completely smitten, fawning over her while she brazenly blocked us from seeing Susan, claiming doctor' s orders. The condescension, the hidden glances between them, and the cloying perfume in my mother-in-law' s house twisted my gut. What was really happening behind the closed doors of Susan' s room? A few days later, a faint thud and a low moan from Susan' s window sent a chill down my spine, confirming my darkest fears. They were hiding something, hurting her. My husband, David, furious, brought home a tiny nanny cam disguised as a USB charger. Our desperate plan was set: on Sunday, during a staged argument, I would sneak into Susan' s room and plug it in. The live feed was horrifying: Robert, his wife paralyzed in bed, was canoodling with Olivia, calling Susan "useless." Then Olivia dropped a bombshell: "I'm pregnant." David was incandescent with rage. We stormed back to the house, bursting in on their cozy scene. "I know everything," David roared, confronting his father. Olivia, playing the victim, announced her pregnancy, but a weak, guttural sound from Susan' s room shifted David' s focus. He shoved his father aside and rushed in, only to discover Susan neglected, abused, and terrified. Blinded by fury, David lunged at Robert, and in the chaos, Olivia feigned a dramatic fall, screaming, "My baby!" The police arrived, called by Robert, and David was arrested for assault, leaving me alone in the wreckage. Susan' s rasping whisper, "Snow… fake," confirmed my worst suspicions: Olivia was a fraud. With David jailed and Olivia claiming a miscarriage, I was drowning, but my mother' s firm voice cut through the despair. "She's done this before, Sarah. This is a professional operation." My despair turned to a cold, hard resolve: Olivia had overplayed her hand. Justice for Susan was now my only goal./0/82603/coverorgin.jpg?v=edfc0a088b4ff5f2b788671c6fdff151&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Roommate, My Nightmare
I was just a normal college sophomore, studying journalism, living with my roommate, Britt. She was a self-proclaimed social justice warrior online, constantly posting, but sometimes her "activism" felt more like twisting things to make people feel small. This Thanksgiving, I posted a simple, sweet photo of my dad and me, saying how thankful I was for my hero firefighter father. A few hours later, a friend sent a screenshot from CampusWhisper, our anonymous gossip app. It was my photo, my dad, with a vile caption calling me a "pick-me" celebrating "patriarchal figures." My stomach dropped when I saw the edge of my phone in the background. Only Britt could have taken that screenshot from my phone. When I confronted her, she sneered, defending herself as "speaking truth to power," even calling my dad an "oppressive machine." Campus security ordered her to apologize, but Britt retaliated, mocking me on TikTok, painting me as a sensitive, "triggered conservative." Then came the rumors, and a guy, clearly put up to it by Britt, made a disgusting comment implying she' d shown them fabricated, explicit images of me and my dad. My blood ran cold imagining what she created. I charged her, demanding to see her phone, and she screamed, faking an assault. Me, assaulting her? The humiliation was unbearable. I couldn't understand why her hatred was so personal, so extreme. What kind of person creates something like that about someone's father? What was wrong with her? That' s when I called my Uncle Dave, a no-nonsense lawyer. He told me to start gathering every piece of evidence. This wasn't just online drama anymore; this was a war, and I was going to fight back. I had no idea then, how far she would be willing to go, or what I would have to do to stop her before she destroyed my life – and potentially ended it./1/106225/coverorgin.jpg?v=70a81998e6fd0370e733de999f1d8d28&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Day I Caught Him Cheating, I Married Another
I walked into my apartment dripping wet from the rain, only to hear a guttural moan coming from the bedroom. I told myself it was just the TV, but my shaking hands could barely fit the key into the lock. When the door swung open, I saw a pair of red stilettos on the floor and my fiancé's favorite silk tie discarded like trash. I pushed the bedroom door open to find Javon in our bed with another woman, the sheets I had just washed two days ago tangled around them. Instead of apologizing, Javon looked at me with a sneer and barked, "You don't know how to knock?" He claimed he paid the bills, even though I worked double shifts just to keep the lights on while he chased a promotion he'd never get. When I slapped him, he didn't show remorse-he called me a "stupid bitch" and lunged at me with a look of pure malice. My life was a total wreck; my fiancé was a cheater, and my grandmother was about to be kicked out of her nursing home because I was forty dollars short of the payment. I felt like I was falling off a cliff with no one to catch me. Why was the man I loved treating me like a cockroach in my own home? Just as Javon moved to strike me, a shadow fell over the room. A man in an expensive black trench coat stood in the doorway, his presence sucking the oxygen out of the room. It was Carmine Wilkinson, a man I had never met but whose terrifying calm made my heart stop. He didn't look at the trash on the bed; he only looked at me. He handed me a monogrammed handkerchief and asked one simple, brutal question. "Do you want revenge?" I nodded, desperate for any lifeline in the middle of my imploding world. He didn't offer me a shoulder to cry on; he looked me in the eye and gave me an ultimatum that would change my life forever. "Good. Get your ID. We're going to City Hall."/0/49595/coverorgin.jpg?v=ac00ff25dc76c20d3b723aaf557c8ca7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Devil In Disguise.
When Kelvin's mother's phony death triggers a nightmarish chain of events, he's trapped in a sinister web of deception spun by his ex-girlfriend Gloria and former best friend Jeoffery. With vengeance in their hearts, they'll stop at nothing to claim what they believe is rightfully theirs. As Kelvin endures unimaginable torment, his sister Jackie and her unwavering partner Alex embark on a desperate quest to uncover the truth and rescue him. Amidst the chaos, buried family secrets resurface, tearing at the seams of trust and unity. But the ultimate revelation that Jeoffery is no stranger threatens to shatter their identity completely. Set against a backdrop of opulent wealth and urban intrigue, "Devil in Disguise" takes readers on a heart-stopping journey through manipulation, suspense, and the undying bonds of family. Will the Clydes emerge from the shadows of their past, or will their legacy remain forever fractured?/0/99655/coverorgin.jpg?v=4bfd563373f3d23740276c2744a96e6b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Toxic Love That Almost Destroyed Me
For five years, I was Broadway's golden girl, and my powerful CEO boyfriend, Brennan, was my anchor. Our love felt invincible, a modern fairytale written across city marquees. Then he met Aimee, a struggling musician he claimed saved his life in a car crash. He gave her the vintage guitar he'd promised me. He stole my private journal so she could turn my pain into a hit song, making me a national laughingstock. He even used my dying mother's medical bills to keep me trapped. But the night my mother was dying, the night she needed an emergency helicopter, he diverted it. He sent her only hope to Aimee, who was having a "panic attack." My mother died alone. At her funeral, a reporter asked about his engagement to Aimee. He thought he had broken me, but he had just started a war. He didn't know the separation papers he'd already signed weren't for a payout-they were for a divorce, and I was about to disappear./1/103566/coverorgin.jpg?v=937c0c47767b3b201f02590e4b9dec64&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Meek For High Society, Too Deadly To Cross
Three years into her marriage, Natalia caught her husband in a secret affair with her own sister-who was already pregnant with his baby. She refused to swallow the betrayal. After the divorce, she kept her head down as a modest nutritionist, while the city's elite waited for her to crumble. They had no idea she was also a miracle healer, a highly decorated special-ops veteran, a ghost-level hacker, and a world-renowned pharmacist. When her ex finally recognized her, he begged. Before she could respond, the formidable magnate tightened an arm around her waist. "You think you can steal my wife?"/0/97465/coverorgin.jpg?v=c44b67b8937ee7a24c7b40a15378f1be&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Bound By Vows, Sealed In Love
After a year apart, Iris caught her husband, Caden, in what looked like an affair and made up her mind to file for divorce. Caden pinned her to the wall, his breath warm, his tone lazy and cold. "Divorce? Fine. But didn't we agree to have a child? Give me one, then we're done-assuming you can keep me interested long enough to want one. Until then, don't count on it." And so began her desperate, humiliating journey to get pregnant-not out of love, but for freedom. Later, the man who never begged cracked first, voice wrecked with tears. "Forget the kid. Just don't leave me."/1/103879/coverorgin.jpg?v=393cc01b8637d0242c4b46677b90e13e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Marriage Was A Lie, Her Happy Ending Wasn't
Three years into marriage, Rachael gave her all to Xander, even secretly using her newfound heiress fortune to save his struggling company. But the truth shattered her—her marriage certificate was fake, and his "childhood friend" was his real wife all along. When she confronted him, he shrugged her off with, "She's just a friend." Enough was enough. Rachael went back to her real family, soared in her career, and married Xander's rival. When Xander begged for another chance, her new husband pulled her close, flashing their marriage certificate. "She's already married—to me."/1/100281/coverorgin.jpg?v=8054606ef5c69b3b8f4e03a995ce1921&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Day My Love For Him Died
On my birthday, my husband Jensen gave the Logan Star, a priceless family heirloom promised to me, to his widowed sister-in-law, Isabella. It wasn't just a gift. It was a public declaration. Isabella was pregnant with his child-the heir I had failed to provide. His mother, the family matriarch, then announced I was to be moved from our master suite to a smaller wing to give Isabella the space and comfort she "deserved." Jensen just stood there, telling me to be "reasonable" for the sake of the family legacy. He had chosen his bloodline over our marriage, over me. He had promised to always choose me, but in that moment, I realized I was just a placeholder, easily discarded for a more "fertile" option. The love I had for him died, replaced by a cold, quiet resolve. So I smiled, agreed to everything, and walked away. That night, I boarded my private yacht. As it exploded in a fiery wreck at sea, with the world believing I was dead, my father received a single text from me: "It's time." The divorce was final, and the destruction of the Logan empire had just begun./0/80883/coverorgin.jpg?v=168e492e59cbfb9de1c7bf1c4c33bc18&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Father's Unseen Battle
My 5-year-old son, Leo, watched helplessly as I slowly withered away from endless bone marrow donations. My wife, Victoria, dismissed my agonizing decline, blinded by her childhood flame Julian Vance's manufactured illness and charisma. Leo frantically pleaded for help, but Victoria, consumed by Julian, ignored his desperate cries, even after he reported me coughing up blood. Instead, she pushed him violently, leaving him injured and alone amidst Julian's cruel laughter. After my death, Leo tried to fulfill my last wish, only for Julian to mockingly destroy my favorite donuts and viciously slash my son’s lip, forcing him to call him "Father." My spirit, helpless, watched as Leo collapsed, unconscious and bleeding, onto my lifeless body, utterly abandoned. How could a mother be so utterly deaf to her child's pleas, so complicit in such monstrous cruelty? The injustice was a burning void, a father's agony witnessing his son's betrayal. Found near death, Leo was rushed to the hospital, where Julian later crept in to silence him with a pillow. But a spectral surge of pure, desperate paternal rage—my rage—slammed Julian away, alerting security and shattering the monstrous facade. The truth about his fake illness and vengeful plot would finally unravel, setting the stage for a dramatic reckoning and Leo’s long fight for justice and redemption./0/64770/coverorgin.jpg?v=5dc647c6b397f3b10bf6909d7c5b6c2d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Beyond The Spotlight
Vanessa Harrington, sexy, sassy, beautiful, black, bold, a well-known celebrity and a music artist, is framed with taking drugs and involving in child sexual abuse. This simple allegation tore down her career and took everything away from her-well, not everything because she still got her family and her three best friends in her hometown. She decided to go back to Barnes City to renovate herself and hopefully build back her career, but she disguised herself so she could have a normal life for once in her entire life and so no one would recognise her and call her shitty names. Taking a break from limelight, she takes a drastic turn and moves to Barnes as Nessa Dean; there she meets a sexy churchboy whom she chases around.Liam Kent, who just moved to Barnes a month before Vanessa came back, didn't want anything to do with her, and this infuriated her, and she swore she was going to get him by all means. Would she get him? What happens when her friends make a bet on her getting the guy? Would her new life as a bartender be permanent, or would she get her old life back? Would Liam's religious beliefs get in the way of him noticing this crazy girl with a foul mouth and hood character?/0/85889/coverorgin.jpg?v=44dc28064412352893414143ece52e52&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Deal, My Son's Death
The dull ache in my eight-year-old son, Leo' s, stomach quickly sharpened into something terrifying. His small body trembled, his face pale and beaded with sweat, as he whimpered, "It hurts, Mommy. It really hurts." Panic seized me as I dialed my husband, Ethan, only for him to pick up on the fourth try, irritated, "What, Olivia? I' m in the middle of something huge." He dismissed Leo' s 103-degree fever and my fear of appendicitis, declaring, "Give him some Tylenol. I can' t leave right now, this is a billion-dollar deal." Alone, I rushed Leo to the emergency room, enduring endless hours in a sterile waiting room. The doctor' s words shattered my world: "There were complications during the appendectomy. His appendix had ruptured. We did everything we could, but Leo didn' t make it." My vibrant, artistic boy was gone because his father was too busy. Just as the news began to sink in, Ethan called, his voice cheerful, "The meeting went great, we secured the funding. Is Leo feeling any better?" I choked out the words, "Leo' s dead, Ethan." He laughed, disbelieving, "That' s not funny, Olivia. Don' t joke about things like that." Only when his parents arrived, called by the hospital, did the truth begin to dawn, but his phone buzzed with an Instagram post of him toasting with Dr. Evelyn Reed, his college sweetheart, captioned, "Celebrating the future of AI with the one and only Ethan Vance. To new beginnings!" Richard Vance, Ethan' s father, roared, "Your son is dead, and you' re celebrating?!" before lunging at Ethan. In the chaos, they wheeled Leo' s body away. I screamed, "Don' t take him! That' s my baby!" before collapsing into darkness. I woke in the Vance mansion, the memory of Leo' s still face crushing me. I wanted a divorce, a clean break from the man who had let our son die. My in-laws, Richard and Eleanor, surprisingly supported me, their kindness a small comfort in my ocean of pain. Then Ethan burst in, rumpled and sneering, "Done with your little drama yet?" He grabbed my arm, demanding, "Get up, Olivia. We' re going home. Enough of this nonsense." His touch was repulsive, and I flinched away, my voice low and dangerous, "Don' t touch me." He laughed, "Or what? You' ll cry some more? You' re always so emotional. It' s exhausting." He continued, clueless to the pain he caused, "Are you going to tell me again that my son is dead just to get my attention?" My voice, clear and steady, cut through his ignorant rage, "He is, Ethan. Leo is dead." He just stared, completely unbelieving, until Richard physically dragged him from the room. A few days later, after a private cremation, I clutched Leo' s ashes, his vibrant life reduced to a small, heavy box. I drove home, needing to gather Leo' s things before leaving for good. But from the master bedroom came a low, feminine laugh, followed by Ethan' s familiar murmur. Evelyn was here, in my house, in my bed, while our son' s ashes were still warm in my hands. She emerged, wearing my silk robe, a triumphant smirk on her face. "Well, look what the cat dragged in," she cooed, "I thought you' d be off crying in a corner somewhere." Ethan didn' t even acknowledge me, or the box in my arms. Evelyn explained, "Honestly, Olivia, it' s for the best. Now he can focus on what' s really important. Our work." I turned my back on them, walking numbly to Leo' s room. As I passed the kitchen, Ethan saw the box. "What' s that?" he asked casually, "Some kind of sentimental junk you' re taking with you?" I stopped, my grip on the box tightening as I turned to him, my voice shaking with rage, "It' s Leo." He just shrugged, taking a drink of water, completely unfazed. I gently placed Leo' s ashes on his nightstand, whispered, "I' m sorry, baby," and began packing. At the bottom of his art bin, I found his last project: a half-finished watercolor painting of a sunset. It was a beautiful, incomplete masterpiece, and it shattered me. I sank to the floor, clutching the painting, sobbing for my son, his stolen future, and all the sunsets he would never paint. After the storm of grief passed, a cold, hard resolve set in. I left the house, not looking back, having placed divorce papers, drawn up months ago, squarely on Ethan' s desk. A text from Evelyn popped up on my phone, smug and petty, "Leaving so soon? Don' t let the door hit you on the way out. Ethan' s mine now. He always was." I crushed my phone under my car tire, the broken pieces a satisfying crunch on the asphalt. As I drove away, I saw Ethan watching me from the doorway, a flicker of confusion, maybe regret, on his face. But it was too late./1/103410/coverorgin.jpg?v=d8830d0ba6194ee66e8f8f538b3c5bd7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Slander To Stardom: All Eyes On The Unlikely Heiress
On their wedding anniversary, Emma saw her husband holding a pregnant woman in his arms. The man who once promised her forever spoke without emotion. "She's pregnant. Let's get a divorce." With her mother-in-law and the mistress scheming together, Emma cut all ties and left without a second glance. After the divorce, she shed the image of a plain homemaker. Genius doctor, jewelry designer, secret hacker, lost heiress-Emma stunned all as she reclaimed her life. Her ex begged for another chance, but Emma, now holding the richest man's hand, simply smiled. "Who are you again?"/0/86202/coverorgin.jpg?v=ed1486b720c27f47641f2b012cef0dda&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Greed, Her Triumph
My world shattered on a Tuesday afternoon while I was scrolling through a local city forum. An anonymous post popped up, short and alarming. "Warning to anyone dating a guy who hangs out at the 'Gilded Bean' café downtown. Overheard a man and a woman, 'Liam' and 'Chloe' , plotting something vile. They were talking about drugging his rich girlfriend, staging an 'accident' , and getting her money. He mentioned she' s a tech exec." Liam. My Liam. My breath caught. We went to the Gilded Bean all the time. The post described him: "He was wearing a very distinctive watch, a silver one with a dark blue face. Looked expensive." I bought him that watch for our one-year anniversary. A limited edition Zenith Chronomaster. There wasn' t another one like it in the city. Then the name Chloe sealed it. Chloe Davies. A girl from his past he always claimed to dislike, someone he called "trashy" and "desperate." My phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor of the apartment Liam and I shared. The shock was a physical blow. It couldn' t be real. Not Liam. Every sweet word, every tender touch, the way he looked at me with what I thought was love – it was all a lie. A carefully crafted performance. He wasn' t just planning to steal from me; he was planning to kill me. The thought of him using my trust to isolate me, making me feel secure while he sharpened the knife, made me sick. The man I loved didn' t exist. He was a monster, and I had invited him into every corner of my life. I wouldn' t be his victim. Liam Parker thought he was hunting a sheep; he was about to find out he had targeted a lioness. He wasn' t getting away with this. None of them were./0/63988/coverorgin.jpg?v=6802c9f9e7aa311a884b3c32fd94c7bb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
