Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Just A Substitute: The Don's Lost Love
I returned to the manor after four years, handing Marcus Thorne an invitation to my wedding. He looked at me with cold eyes, his arm around his fiancée, Chloe—the woman I was molded to look like. But the real blow came at lunch. A waiter tripped, sending three mugs of scalding coffee flying toward us. Marcus didn't move to protect me. He lunged to grab his phone from the table because Chloe’s face was on the screen. The boiling liquid splashed across my chest, burning my skin instantly. While I screamed in agony, Marcus simply checked his notifications. "I have to go," he said, stepping over me as my fiancé, David, desperately poured ice water on my burns. "Chloe broke a nail. She's hysterical." He walked out of the restaurant without looking back, leaving me writhing in pain. At the hospital, the doctor dropped another bombshell: I was pregnant. Marcus didn't know. He didn't know I was carrying another man's child. Just like he didn't know about the baby of his I had lost three years ago—the one I miscarried while he ignored my calls to close a business deal. I wiped my tears and looked at David. "Get the plane ready," I whispered. "We leave tonight." When Marcus finally came looking for me, all he found was a medical report of the child he killed with his neglect, and a note saying I was gone forever./0/44128/coverorgin.jpg?v=20230930095024&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The world I Found Myself.
Failure sometimes teaches us a lesson about life, one that we cannot find even with the best tutors. I failed and couldn't be admitted to my dream school. someone else dream become mine. It was not the world I wanted,but it was the world I found my self in. I don't even plan to have a world. where am I, where is this place call? Living and doing someone else dream. The world I found myself./1/107485/coverorgin.jpg?v=ee2cdef7493f422d0d30c9651b3ca9a5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Mute Wife's Secret Genius Comeback
For three years, I've played the role of the broken, mute trophy wife to the "Ice King" Heinrich Lloyd. While the world sees me as a fragile liability, I've been building a cage of silence to keep the monsters out, hiding my true identity as a high-level dark web hacker known as Ghost. The cage shattered when my mother-in-law cornered me at a private clinic and demanded I sign away my future. She didn't want my cooperation; she wanted my replacement. She introduced Aria, a ruthless socialite, as the "better vessel" who would carry my husband's child because my own womb was deemed "hostile." To ensure I wouldn't fight back, they shoved a fake psychiatric report across the table, threatening me with a permanent sanitarium stay and a forced conservatorship if I didn't relinquish my parental rights and my marriage. When I fled in a panic, Heinrich didn't offer comfort; he caught me at a bar, dragged me home like misbehaving property, and told me to stop being an embarrassment. Now, the nightmare has followed me to my secret day job. Aria walked into my office as a "consultant," leaning in to whisper that she could smell my fear through my cheap clothes and fake glasses. She thinks I'm a cornered rat, a woman so pathetic she can't even find the voice to scream for help. I stared at her, my fingers clutching the micro-recorder hidden in my pearls. They have no idea that the "mute" wife they despise has already mapped out every dirty transaction in their offshore accounts and discovered the massive gambling debts Aria is trying to hide. I felt a searing rage in my chest, a fire that had been smoldering for three years. They think they've trapped a bird, but they've actually locked themselves in with a ghost. I'm done hiding behind a tremor in my hands and a vacant stare. "Sign it," Gerri had commanded back at the clinic. "This is a notification, not a negotiation." She was right about one thing. It isn't a negotiation anymore. It's a declaration of war, and I'm going to burn their entire legacy to the ground./0/79170/coverorgin.jpg?v=20251015061539&imageMogr2/format/webp)
To Marry A Monster
Isla is a hardworking but naive college student chasing her dreams far from home...that is until one wild week in Vegas turns into her worst nightmare. Kidnapped by Dante Valenti, the cold, untouchable Don of the Las Vegas underworld, Isla is forced into a marriage she never asked for. The reason? Her father's debt. The price? Her freedom and dreams. Dante doesn't want love. He wants power. And Isla is nothing more than a pawn in a dangerous, top-secret deal-at least, that's what he wants her to believe. But the longer they stay together, the harder it is for them to ignore the tension between themselves. And as Isla starts to uncover the truth behind her father's debts, she discovers something terrifying: That she has a bounty on her head. And to Dante and many others, she's suddenly worth more dead than alive./1/100289/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106220919&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Trophy Wife's Fiery Escape
My fiancé, Griffin Cooper, was turning me from a wild heiress into his perfect trophy wife. My father approved, eager to tame the rebellious spirit I' d inherited from my mother. A near-fatal car crash was my wake-up call. But the real horror began when Griffin punished me for defending myself at a gala by throwing me into an icy fountain. As I shivered, bleeding from my period into the freezing water, his orders were chilling. "Let her bleed," he told his guards. "Perhaps it will teach her a lesson." That was before he scalded me with boiling water and locked me in a panic room, where my venomous stepsister tasered me until I passed out. I finally understood. He didn't want a partner; he wanted a prisoner to break. So on his wedding day, I arranged a little surprise. I sent my stepsister down the aisle in my place, blew our family mansion to smithereens, and boarded the first flight to freedom. My revenge had just begun./0/84489/coverorgin.jpg?v=20251125104754&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Moonlit Confession: One More Chance With My Beautiful Mistake
Just as Alina and Rhett finalized their divorce, a friend pressed Rhett. "So that's it? You don't regret it one bit?" Rhett just shrugged, jamming his hands into his pockets, a crooked grin sliding across his face. "It was just a deal from day one. There's nothing to regret." Yet at a party pulsing with bass and laughter, whiskey loosened his guard and reignited old heat. He slipped through the crowd, pinning Alina to a wall, his breath brushing her hair. His palm skimmed her waist, guiding her silk-clad thigh around his hip. With a soft, raspy tone, he murmured, "What if we gave us one more shot?"/0/85897/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106211054&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No More Handyman: His Last Stand
For three years, I poured my soul into Innovate, building Brittany' s startup from the ground up as her lead engineer and live-in boyfriend. I fixed her code, her leaky faucet, and every problem in her life, while she paid me a pittance, treating me like a glorified handyman. But at her success party, watching her beam at her ex-boyfriend Dylan, unveiled as the new "visionary," something inside me snapped. Then came the ultimate insult: demotion to Dylan' s assistant, his snakeskin boots propped on MY desk, MY awards tossed in a dusty box. The years of exploitation culminated in a single, burning question: how could someone I gave everything to treat me with such utter contempt? No more. I handed her my resignation, a meticulously itemized invoice for eighty-seven thousand dollars of unpaid work, and played a recording of her own words. "Forty-eight hours, Brittany," I said, pocketing my phone. "The clock is ticking." That night, I walked out of her apartment for good, the trash bag holding her memories of me thudding satisfyingly down the chute. This wasn' t just an exit; it was a declaration of war./1/112022/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260622001539&imageMogr2/format/webp)
She Was My Wife, Now a Trillionaire
On her eighteenth birthday, Arabella's life was destroyed when thugs attacked her and left her reputation in pieces. Brenton played the hero, sent the men to prison, and married her, becoming the man she trusted most. For two years, she believed he had saved her, until one overheard confession shattered everything. "If she had pushed a little harder, she might've figured out Brinley was behind the whole thing. That's the only reason I married her. Lucky for me, she's so easy to fool." He had only married her to protect the woman who truly mattered to him. When that woman came back, Arabella chose divorce without hesitation. Brenton expected her to come crawling back. "How can she even survive without me?" Instead, she rose in the tech world, untouchable, brilliant, and far beyond his reach-just in time for another powerful man to claim her heart. Then Brenton begged, "Baby, I messed up. Just give me one more chance. Please." But the tycoon pulled her into his arms. "Baby? Please. She's my wife now."/1/114525/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260605210852&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No Longer His Captive Surgeon Wife
I was a top cardiac surgeon, trapped in a dead marriage with a ruthless billionaire. One afternoon, he brought his mistress to my hospital, ordering me to perform her high-risk heart surgery. When I refused and handed him our divorce papers, he violently tore them up and threatened to erase my name from the medical community. Worse, I discovered they had a five-year-old surrogate son—bought and born the exact same year I bled out on an operating table, losing our baby. The mistress mocked my trauma, calling me a barren piece of trash who couldn't give him an heir. I slapped her across the face. The next morning, the NYPD publicly handcuffed me in my own hospital. She had framed me for attempted murder, claiming I injected her IV with a lethal dose of potassium. My husband cornered me in the interrogation room. "Just confess to me. I will throw enough money at the DA to make this entirely disappear." I looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing but raw, unfiltered suspicion. He actually believed I was a jealous murderer. I swore I would rather rot in a concrete cell for the rest of my life than bow down to them. Just as my childhood savior miraculously appeared to bail me out, my phone rang. The mistress had gone into full cardiac arrest. Only I had the surgical skill to save her. I turned around, deciding whether to let the woman who ruined my life die, or pick up my scalpel./0/82299/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106200221&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Second Life of Stella Rossi
Stella Rossi believed she had it all: engaged to the brilliant tech mogul, Ethan Cole, with a future of love and shared ambition. But after his sudden death, her world shattered. She uncovered his chilling secrets: a hidden devotion to his ward, Chloe, a cruel plot to prevent Stella from having children, and a will leaving her penniless, burdened by his company's catastrophic debts. At Ethan's funeral, a mob of AI disaster victims, blaming Stella, brutally attacked her, leaving her for dead. As darkness claimed her, one thought burned: "If I had another chance, I'd never marry you." Then, light. Stella gasped awake, weeks before the wedding, her dying wish granted. This time, she wouldn't be a victim of his betrayal. With cold clarity, she cancelled the engagement, reclaiming her dreams and severing ties with the man who ruined her. But Chloe, Ethan' s cunning "light," wouldn' t let her go so easily. From destroyed legacies to a burning apartment, Stella faced Chloe's vicious sabotage and Ethan's unwavering, blind devotion to his ward. With a bloodied arm, a symbol of her agonizing defiance, Stella cut all ties. She vanished, dedicating herself to a top-secret astrophysics project, leaving behind the monstrous reality she' d twice endured./1/103418/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260204155535&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Prisoner In Silk Sheets: A Wife With No Way Out
Anna Hart had no choice. To keep her family business from bankruptcy, she married Julian Ashford-heir to a financial empire and still in a coma after a wreck. It was meant to be a marriage on paper, a deal that existed in name only, until Julian opened his eyes. Awake, he wasn't gentle or grateful; he was cold, controlling, and relentless. With a plotting mother-in-law and wars inside the Ashford family, Anna learned to fight back. When she had twins, the rules changed. Caught between forced affection, secrets, and ruthless power grabs, she battled for her children-and her own survival./0/66499/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260209090646&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Hidden Truth
"As they say, the ones you trust most can often be the cause of your downfall." After two heartbreaking pregnancies, Vanessa becomes pregnant again, clinging to hope that this time, fortune will smile on her. Coincidentally, her best friend Gloria is also expecting, turning their shared journey into one of double celebration. But during their delivery, a single event changes everything, separating the twin babies and casting doubt on who the real mother is. As the two friends set out to uncover the truth, secrets unravel, and their bond is tested like never before. Will their friendship survive once the hidden truth is revealed? The Hidden Truth is a gripping tale of two women and their enduring friendship despite the twists of fate. With shocking turns, this book will leave you eagerly awaiting the next page./1/106234/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260527195555&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Misdiagnosis in andrology, My Billionaire Husband
I was forty-eight hours into my shift, smelling of stale sweat and clutching a red-stamped bill for my mother's life support. As a scholarship intern, I was a ghost in the hospital, working myself to the bone just to keep her ventilator humming. Then Dr. Thorne shoved a metal clipboard into my chest and ordered me to perform a surgical prep on a VIP patient for a circumcision. But the moment the cold betadine touched the man's skin, he lunged at me like a predator, his hand crushing my wrist until the bone nearly snapped. "I'm here for a kidney stone. What kind of incompetent butcher shop is this?" He wasn't a patient; he was Conrad Marks, a lethal billionaire, and Thorne had intentionally set me up to assault him. Within minutes, a five-million-dollar lawsuit was filed, and the Dean ordered security to shred my license and throw me out of the building. My phone buzzed with a final notice: the facility was stopping my mother's meds at midnight because my payment had failed. I was a doctor who had just been framed and a daughter about to watch her mother die. I didn't understand why Thorne would ruin me so casually, but with my mother's life on the line, I had nothing left to lose. I slipped past the guards and back into the billionaire's suite with a set of silver needles and a desperate bargain. I stopped his agony in seconds, and when he looked at me with those cold, lethal eyes, I offered a trade: I would be the fake girlfriend his family demanded if he would save my mother and bury the lawsuit. "Deal," he said, his grip on my waist tightening with dark possession. I signed the contract, realizing I hadn't just saved my career-I had sold my soul to the most dangerous man in New York./0/86523/coverorgin.jpg?v=20251104041006&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Betrayal, My Rebirth
The applause was deafening, but a cold sweat trickled down my back. One moment, I was falling, the city skyline spinning. The next, I was here, at the TechFusion conference, the air thick with the smell of electronics and ambition. I looked down at my hands, steady, and took a deep breath. This was real. A second chance, pulled back from the brink of a self-inflicted end. But as I scanned the room, the past crashed into me. This was the day it all went wrong before. The host nervously announced, "It seems our next speaker, the one and only Brittany Hayes, is running a little behind schedule." Then, my phone vibrated. It was Brittany. "OMG Sarah, traffic is a nightmare! I'm gonna be late. Can you go up there and stall for me? Just say some smart marketing stuff. You're good at that. Pls pls pls save me! 🙏" Word for word, the exact same manipulative plea that had led to my public humiliation and downfall. In my past life, I' d been naive enough to agree, only for her to frame me as a desperate attention-seeker who tried to steal her spotlight. It had shattered my career, my reputation, my spirit. It started a chain of events that led to my ultimate destruction. I had lost everything. My company threw me under the bus, the industry blacklisted me, and the online mob issued death threats. I stood on my apartment balcony, the city lights blurred by tears, and I let go. The memory of my own death brought a chilling resolve. Brittany Hayes had taken everything from me. This time, the past wouldn' t repeat. This time, I knew the script. This wasn't just a second chance at life; it was a second chance at justice./1/104044/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106223515&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Curse, Their Endless Guilt
I was born with a curse. I see a shimmering, crimson timer above everyone's head, counting down to the exact moment of their death. For this, my family has treated me like a monster for eighteen years, blaming me for every tragedy I foresaw. On my 21st birthday, the timer finally appeared above my own head. I had twenty-four hours left to live. I spent my last day preparing a feast, a desperate plea for one final family dinner. With only minutes to spare, I called my eldest brother, Fredrick, my voice breaking. "Please, just come home," I sobbed. "I'm going to die tonight." His response was colder than the grave. "Are you really so desperate for attention that you'd stoop to such pathetic lies?" Then, I heard the click of the line going dead. I died alone at that table, surrounded by the food no one came to eat. But my death wasn't the end. It was the beginning of their nightmare, a personal hell of guilt they could never escape./1/107955/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260209173157&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Bound By Revenge: His Unwilling Wife
I was suffocating in a borrowed Valentino gown at the Met Gala, but it wasn't the corset that was killing me. It was the debt collector, Vargo, stalking me through the crowd like a wolf. Desperate to hide, I ducked into a private lounge and threw myself at the silhouette of a man sitting in the shadows, pressing my lips to his in a frantic plea for cover. When I pulled back, the air turned to ice; I was staring into the ocean-blue eyes of Kingsley Osborn, the billionaire who believed I’d sold his company secrets six years ago. Kingsley didn’t save me; he trapped me. The next morning, he slid a "Marriage Service Agreement" across his desk, revealing he knew everything about my father’s illegal Ponzi scheme and the quarter-million dollars I owed to loan sharks. He offered to pay my debts and protect my father, but only if I signed over two years of my life to be his trophy wife. "I don't want your money, Cassidy. I want your life." The marriage was a cold, calculated war. He forced me into his glass fortress, banned me from contacting my friends, and treated me with a distilled hatred that felt like a physical weight. When I accidentally broke his grandfather’s vintage watch during a nightmare, he didn't see an accident—he saw a crime, threatening to destroy my father if I didn't "charm" his board of directors into submission. I was a prisoner in a three-piece suit, until I found a mislabeled file buried in his company’s server. It contained evidence of a massive, illegal hostile takeover that would ruin Kingsley if the Feds ever saw it. I held the gun that could destroy the man who had cornered me. But as I looked at the champagne roses he’d secretly kept from my "peace offering," I realized I didn't want to pull the trigger. I wanted to see how far he’d go to keep me from leaving./1/103262/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106223043&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Betrayal, Her Billion-Dollar Revenge
For three years, I played the part of a simple housewife for my husband, Cedric. I buried my true self-Eleanor Curry, heiress to a massive security firm-to be the quiet wife he claimed to love. Then a chemical plant exploded. In the chaos, Cedric shielded his teammate, Cassidy, and left me behind in a collapsing building. "Forget her," I heard him tell his men. "She' s useless. A dead weight." I survived, only for him to force me, while I was injured and feverish, to donate blood to Cassidy for her "severe" injuries. But then I overheard them laughing in the next room. Her injuries were a lie. It was all a "little lesson," he said, to teach me my place. As my own wound reopened and bled through my gown, I reached for the hidden device in my bag. "Falcon reporting." A gravelly voice answered instantly. "Welcome home, little bird. We've been waiting."/0/99664/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260113165018&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Lie That Erased My Life
I thought I had my fairytale ending when I married Dayton Reed, the charming heir to a tech empire. But a car crash on our wedding day gave him amnesia, and his family used it as an excuse to erase me. For five years, I watched another woman, Cassidy, take my place, enduring their cruelty while clinging to the hope that my husband was still in there somewhere. Then I overheard him talking to his father. He laughed, calling his amnesia the "best performance of my life." He admitted our whole relationship was a lie-a way to atone for his family's role in my parents' deaths. In the same breath, his new fiancée announced she was pregnant. My love wasn't just forgotten; it was a joke. He had orchestrated five years of my torment, from the murder of my dog to the loss of our unborn child. He thought he broke me. He was wrong. Years later, I've rebuilt my life. And tonight, on a live news broadcast with the whole world watching, I'm going to expose every last one of his sins and burn his empire to the ground./0/81048/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106194644&imageMogr2/format/webp)
More Than Just Paper: The Degrees That Fought Back
I stood on the polished stage of "Startup Goldrush," a triple-major Ivy League prodigy, ready to pitch myself and make my working-class family proud. Then, Victoria Sterling, the lead judge, unleashed her attack: dismissing my credentials as "just paper," demanding I decode her vague tech jargon, and insinuating my degrees were fake. A 'technical glitch' conveniently wiped my digital proof, and then, in a staged "accident," she soaked my physical diplomas with sticky kombucha, smirking as they disintegrated into an illegible mess. The lowest blow came when my own brother, manipulated backstage, walked out and publicly told me to apologize, demanding I stop embarrassing our family. Betrayed and humiliated, my world crashed, and I crumpled to the floor in a panic attack on live television, branded an "Ivy League Imposter." How could years of relentless hard work, incredible sacrifice, and genuine achievement be twisted into such a horrifying, public destruction? They tried to bury me, but as I lay in the darkness, remembering my brother's calloused hands and unwavering belief, a furious resolve ignited – I wouldn't just survive this, I would fight back. I opened my laptop, my fingers trembling but firm, and began drafting an email to Dean Thompson, Harvard University, ready to expose their lies./1/103575/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106223359&imageMogr2/format/webp)
