Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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We Meet Again, After All These Years
Ten years ago, her family was destroyed. Alya Rivas broke off her engagement with Archer Garcia and fled without a word.Ten years later, she returns to the capital, hoping to live quietly in the shadows-only to run straight into him, now a man of immense power and influence. He traps her in his world, his eyes dark with obsession and possession:"You ran for ten years. Now it's time you came back."Old grudges linger, old love burns bright. In this glittering, cold capital, nights will no longer let her rest./1/101589/coverorgin.jpg?v=297b19a68b795acea96b22c50ec05451&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When Love Became A Weapon
I sat in the front row of the theater, my hand in my fiancé' s, waiting for the premiere of the true-crime podcast he' d been consulting on. But when the host' s voice filled the room, it wasn' t telling the story of how I survived a brutal kidnapping-it was accusing me of faking it for attention. And the "anonymous source" who provided my private therapy tapes was the man sitting right next to me. Dr. Erik Nichols wasn't just the psychiatrist who "saved" me; he was the mole who handed my darkest traumas to his ex-girlfriend for a viral hit. On stage, they played my weeping confessions, edited to sound like manipulation. The audience turned on me, jeering at the "Girl Who Cried Wolf." Erik grabbed my arm, whispering that this public humiliation was just "exposure therapy" for my own good. I was drowning in panic until a booming voice cut through the crowd. "Let her go." FBI Agent Ewing Oconnor, the man who actually found me in that cabin years ago, stepped onto the stage with his badge raised. He didn't just rescue me from the mob; he handed me the weapon to fight back. Now, I' m not just the survivor. I' m the plaintiff, and I' m coming for everything they have./0/99318/coverorgin.jpg?v=1e7785bc48654f0a9576ff8be12479ce&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Mute Heart, His Burning Betrayal
My name is Arlie Stevens, and I was a mute girl who grew up in the shadows of the Rust Belt. My street art was our daily bread, and Bowen McClure was my protector, my first love, and my voice. But the boy who once fought off bullies for me decided to climb the social ladder by getting engaged to a ruthless corporate heiress, Kassandra Woodard. On their engagement night, Kassandra falsely accused me of ruining her gown. Bowen, my Bowen, publicly whipped me as punishment to appease her family. He told me it was to protect me, a necessary evil. Then he locked me in my room. As the party's fireworks lit up the sky, I smelled smoke. The apartment was on fire, and the door was locked from the outside. Through the flames, I heard Kassandra's voice, "Bowen locked her in. He wanted her out of the way." He didn't just abandon me; he tried to burn me alive. But I survived. And when a broken, guilt-ridden Bowen finally found me years later, begging for forgiveness after destroying the woman who orchestrated it all, I had only one thing to say to him./0/80500/coverorgin.jpg?v=206345136b4f6ac7358958d0f6f2ed0a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Unbowed: The Evelyn Hayes Story
Evelyn Hayes, a venture capitalist celebrating a milestone in her impressive career, just wanted a quiet moment at a campus Starbucks, dressed comfortably after a long panel. But a simple outfit choice unexpectedly ignites a firestorm: anonymous messages turn into public online attacks, spearheaded by Mark Jenkins, an aspiring entrepreneur she's about to judge. He demonizes her, painting her first as "distracting," then as a "corrupt elite" actively sabotaging his dreams. When he realizes she's the lead investor for the prestigious "Pioneer" Accelerator, he unleashes a venomous social media campaign, exploiting his family for sympathy and turning the internet into a mob crying "#CancelEvieHayes" and accusing her of being everything wrong with Silicon Valley. How did a casual tank top become an excuse for such a calculated, personal vendetta? How can one man’s bitter entitlement twist reality and orchestrate a public shaming campaign against a professional woman? Refusing to be silenced, Evelyn knows she must fight back, not just for her reputation, but for every woman targeted by online hate. But as she prepares to expose Mark’s dark past, a terrifying truth emerges: his desperation could turn vicious. Will she overcome the digital mob and a dangerous real-life threat, or will his false narrative destroy everything she’s built?/1/115865/coverorgin.jpg?v=201bd6cd3b005a02f75021426ea324d7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Jilted Bride: Now Call Me Auntie, Darling
On the eve of my glamorous Waldorf Astoria wedding, I went to the penthouse to surprise my fiancé, Hugh, wearing my late mother's heirloom pearls. Instead, I heard my stepsister's familiar laugh and caught them tangled together on the sofa. Through the cracked door, I heard Hugh slur that he was only marrying me for my family's financial backing. "As soon as I secure my inheritance, she's the first thing I'm getting rid of," he promised her. Floy giggled and asked for my mother's pearl necklace, my only legacy. Hugh agreed without hesitation, mocking my dead mother's naivety and my desperate dreams of building a family. Every sweet word he had ever said was a lie, a knife he had been patiently sliding between my ribs for years. They planned to strip me of everything the moment I signed the prenup. I didn't cry or scream. The crushing weight of their betrayal hollowed me out, leaving behind a terrifying, absolute calm. Why should I be the one to lose everything while they stole my future and insulted my mother's memory? I calmly walked down the hall, set the prenuptial agreement on fire, and vanished into the rainy night. If Hugh wanted to play dirty for the Maxwell empire, I would play for keeps. Using a forgotten, century-old family covenant, I was going to marry Hugh's uncle-the comatose, paralyzed war hero, Fleet Maxwell. I would return not as a naive bride, but as their worst nightmare: his aunt, and the new lady of the house./0/38322/coverorgin.jpg?v=12f6136f1706ae01f08662f40f32c31c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Unexpected Lover
In an accidental meeting at the airport, Eric Brown has a crush on Lily Brown at first glance. Maybe this is destined. Eric is a noble while Lily is an ordinary freelancer. The disparity of status between them doesn’t separate them. On the contrary, they love each other more deeply as time goes by. When fate brings people unexpected love, there is no one who can avoid it .../0/83096/coverorgin.jpg?v=43d0ca38b385494b50edfe969673c7ac&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Six Years Buried: The Daughter I Never Forgot
Six years ago, U.S. Marshal Sarah Miller vanished. She was buried under a new identity and a surgeon's scalpel, believed dead after a top-secret mission. Now, she's back, a ghost in her old life. But her heart hammers for one person: her daughter, Lily. Arriving at Lily's elite boarding school, Sarah expects a reunion, not a nightmare. She watches, horrified, as Lily is slapped and publicly humiliated by a vicious, spoiled girl named Isabella. All while the very people Sarah entrusted Lily's care to—her late husband's best friend, a respected Judge, her childhood companion, and her former housekeeper—stand by, comforting the attacker and calling Lily "Izzy." Her "guardians," dripping in designer labels and fake concern, have not only renamed Lily "Izzy," but have crowned Isabella "Lily Vance," heiress to Sarah's vast estate, openly referring to Sarah as "deceased." Her own child is kicked, ridiculed as a "charity case," and a "bad seed," while the imposter thrives on stolen wealth and affection. The monstrous, calculated betrayal cuts deeper than any physical wound; how could those she trusted most twist her meticulously laid plans into such a vile deception? But then, a raw, desperate whisper from her daughter, "Mommy?" shatters Sarah's disguise and ignites the rage of a mother scorned. The U.S. Marshal is back, and she's activating "Phoenix Protocol" to reclaim every stolen piece of her daughter's life and make every single betrayer pay./1/115541/coverorgin.jpg?v=de97b05ee6a42824a94fc043726aff19&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn From Flames: His Secret Triplets
Five years ago, Alisson Ford's adoptive family drugged her and offered her to a repulsive old investor to save their failing company. She escaped the trap, only to accidentally stumble into the bed of Jake Yates, the most terrifying and powerful billionaire in the city. Months later, while she was painfully giving birth to triplets in a freezing basement, her adoptive sister Bella tracked her down. Bella violently snatched Alisson's firstborn son to pass off as her own ticket into the Yates family. Then, Bella smiled as her men poured gasoline over the mattress and set the room on fire, leaving Alisson and her two remaining newborns to burn alive. Shielding her fragile babies with her own blistering skin in the roaring inferno, Alisson's despair turned into absolute, blood-soaked hatred. She couldn't fathom how the family she had trusted for years could steal her flesh and blood and condemn her to such a horrific death. Five years later, Alisson returns to the city as a powerful trauma specialist. She steps right into Jake and Bella's grand engagement banquet, watching coldly as her five-year-old daughter runs straight up to the untouchable billionaire and hugs his leg. "You are a bad daddy! You abandoned Mommy and us, and now you are going to marry an ugly old witch!"/1/103212/coverorgin.jpg?v=aca3416ce19903134b10736fdb744c91&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Choosing The Forgotten, Finding My King
For five years, I was blindly devoted to my fiancé, Austen Griffin. My family's power was the only reason he was about to be named heir to the entire Griffin fortune. But on the night of the announcement, he arrived late with my sister, Dennie, a fresh hickey on his neck. He cornered me, demanding a prenuptial agreement. "No shared accounts. No shared bedroom. And no questions about my life," he whispered. "You get the name, I get my freedom." In my past life, their public betrayal broke me. He used my love to secure his power, then cast me aside, leaving me to die alone while he and my sister enjoyed the fortune I handed them. But when I opened my eyes, I was back at the gala, moments before the decision. This time, when the family patriarch asked me to name my choice, I looked past Austen' s triumphant smirk and smiled. "I choose Kolton Griffin," I announced, my voice clear and cold, selecting the crippled, forgotten cousin he despised most./0/84394/coverorgin.jpg?v=65b2625958417aa57d21ef46412be847&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Secrets of a Killer Father
My daughter, Molly, lay frail in the hospital bed, her future hanging by a thread. The doctor's words were stark: an incredibly expensive experimental therapy was her only hope. My ex-husband, Matthew, stood by, his charming facade crumbling as he refused to pay, citing "scam" and "natural remedies." My heart ached with a familiar, searing pain. I remembered this scene – the same cold refusal, the same sweet-sounding lies that doomed her, and me, in another life. He stood there, the man who had abandoned us before, the man who ultimately murdered us. This time, however, I was ready. This time, I had a plan. My voice, unnervingly calm, cut through the tension. "If you won't pay, Matthew, I understand. We'll go to Oregon. They have a law there – the Dignity with Death Act. Physician-assisted suicide." The room plunged into shocked silence. Gasps. Disbelief. Even Molly, my sweet, brave girl, looked stunned. How could a mother even suggest such a thing? What monstrous desperation, or sheer madness, would drive her to this unthinkable act, to choose death for her child? But they didn't know what I knew. They didn't know the dark secret Matthew was hiding, the true horror he had planned. And this time, I wouldn't let him get away with it. This time, I' d drag his true intentions into the light, even if I had to burn down everything around me to expose him./1/117488/coverorgin.jpg?v=d6cdd3008c3a40105dbd5959d4e78dd5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No Longer His Walking Blood Bank
For two years, Chloe played the perfect wife to billionaire Julian Sinclair to save her family's business. But she quickly learned she was nothing more than a walking blood bank for his childhood sweetheart, Ava, forced to donate her rare blood under the threat of her family's financial ruin. Julian publicly humiliated Chloe by bringing Ava to her birthday party, letting the mistress flaunt the custom diamond necklace meant for Chloe's anniversary. When Ava deliberately smashed her own head into a table to frame her, Julian didn't hesitate to protect the other woman. "What the hell is wrong with you? I never want to see you again!" He even left a check on the nightstand after a loveless night, coldly ordering Chloe to take a morning-after pill to erase any chance of a child. Chloe couldn't understand why he never took off his wedding ring, or why he tenderly kissed her and begged her not to go when he was drunk. Why give her a fragile spark of hope, only to rush back to Ava the next morning over a faked pregnancy? Staring at his dead eyes as he ordered the butler to throw her packed bags out, the illusion finally shattered. Chloe simply nodded, picked up her suitcase, and walked out into the biting snow to reclaim her life./0/99319/coverorgin.jpg?v=bbb4eed9d09d931cfd44a8fb2babf87f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Love Built On Silent Lies
For ten years, my world was silent. Bryan was my protector, my voice, my everything, shielding me from a world I couldn't hear after my parents died saving him. But when a new girl, Astrid, arrived and started a cruel war against me, I suddenly regained my hearing-only to discover the horrifying truth. Bryan wasn't my protector; he was the mastermind. "He loves seeing you squirm," Astrid sneered, her voice a venomous whisper I could now hear perfectly. "He told me he gets off on it. He hates your blank face." Their twisted game was to make the "emotionless Elinor" cry. My pain was their entertainment. The boy I trusted, the family I loved-it was all built on a foundation of guilt and deceit. He thought I was a silent, helpless victim he could control. He thought I would endure his betrayal forever. He was wrong. So, I jumped from the third-floor window, orchestrating a public "suicide" to expose their crimes. As the world erupted in chaos and his perfect life shattered, I knew my real story was just beginning./1/112297/coverorgin.jpg?v=dd4b2598d8e34bb6161e0790fb75aa0b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Reborn Heiress: Betting On Chaos
I woke up gasping for air, my fingers clawing at a neck that was smooth instead of bruised. The air smelled of lavender and expensive starch, not the metallic tang of blood and the mold of the basement where I had just died. A text flashed on my phone from Derrick, the man I thought was the love of my life: "Good morning, my angel. I can't wait to see you tonight." The heart emoji mocked me, a remnant of a girl who was once stupid, blind, and pathetically in love. In my past life, I was the perfect, submissive fiancée. I didn't realize the "vitamins" Derrick gave me were actually a cocktail of drugs designed to keep me foggy and compliant while he and my own uncle dismantled my father’s company. I stood by him as my parents died in a "car accident" that I now know was a murder he orchestrated. By the time I realized I was married to the devil, he had already stripped me of my wealth, my family, and finally, my breath. I stared at the gold-embossed calendar on the vanity: June 12, 2014. The day of our engagement party. The day I originally signed my life away to a monster who saw me as nothing more than a bank account to be drained. I felt a cold, sharp rage replace the terror. I wasn't going to be the victim this time. I wasn't going to take his pills or wear the modest, pastel dress he chose to make me look like a saint. "I need a match," I whispered to the most dangerous man in the city, Branch Brewer, as I gripped his tie in a hotel hallway. "I want to spend your money until Derrick chokes on it. I want to watch his empire crack." Reborn on the morning of the gala, I’ve traded my white lace for black silk. The guest list is set, the press is waiting, and Derrick thinks he’s about to win it all. He has no idea that the "fragile" girl he murdered is back to burn his world to the ground./1/116515/coverorgin.jpg?v=0fbca5c5dea83e92c9c62ef84f6e061e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
I No Longer Pick Up Trash
On the eve of my lavish New York wedding, my partner of ten years, Holden Ferguson, informed me the ceremony was just for show. The marriage license, he explained with a smirk while his mistress lay in our bed, was for her. He was leaving me at the altar, confident I was trapped after a decade of him systematically taking credit for my architectural brilliance. He called me his "dependent asset," a woman whose career and reputation were built on the platform he provided. "You have no choice, darling," he taunted, reminding me I'd given up my wealthy family for him. "You're nothing without me." He expected me to crumble, to play the part of the humiliated bride and wait for him to return after securing his new future. He thought he had planned my destruction perfectly, underestimating the quiet woman who secretly controlled a fortune. But as he left, I picked up my phone and dialed my fiercest professional rival. "Jaxon," I said calmly, "I need you to marry me. Today."/1/102564/coverorgin.jpg?v=b2af4a893266111e27d9e50e3d2085cb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Finding Freedom In A Small Town
I was a billionaire's trophy wife, but when I fell ill, I had to beg my husband, Adam, for fifty dollars just to buy tampons. He refused, humiliating me for mismanaging my meager allowance. Minutes later, my phone lit up with photos of him on a yacht, gifting his ex-girlfriend a five-million-dollar necklace. The messages from other wives were brutal: "Poor Aubrey. Always second best." He had forbidden me from working, from having any independence, calling me an "ornament." I was a possession he'd bought, worth less than the jewelry he gave another woman. The humiliation burned hotter than any fever. He controlled my life, but he wouldn't control my escape. Standing drenched in the rain, I made a decision. If money was freedom, I would earn it myself. I pushed open the heavy door to The Velvet Lounge, a high-end club where secrets were sold and fortunes were made. My new life was about to begin./1/115218/coverorgin.jpg?v=6452e0440505ab4d76d4171a8605a4ec&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late For Regret: The Surgeon Heiress
On our third wedding anniversary, I waited in our empty penthouse until twenty minutes past midnight. When the private elevator finally opened, my husband stepped out, followed closely by a younger woman who was practically swallowed by his oversized suit jacket. He coldly announced she was staying the night because her apartment lock was broken. When I calmly pointed out her building had armed security, she immediately dropped to the floor, faking a hysterical panic attack. "Don't touch me! Please, keep her away!" she shrieked. Without a second of hesitation, my husband violently shoved me to protect her. My spine crashed hard into the sharp edge of the marble kitchen island. A blinding, white-hot pain knocked the breath completely out of my lungs. "You are vicious! You have absolutely zero sympathy!" he roared, his eyes full of disgust. But as I gasped for air, I saw the crying woman peek out from behind his broad shoulders. Her lips slowly curled up into a triumphant, mocking smirk. The agonizing pain in my back suddenly faded into absolute, freezing numbness. For three years, I had hidden my true identity to play the gentle, loving wife, only to realize my marriage was a pathetic joke. I pulled off my heavy diamond wedding ring and threw it directly at his feet. "I want a divorce." I walked straight out into the freezing rain, where a massive black Maybach was already waiting. It was time to stop playing house and return to my throne as the billionaire heir of the Stephenson family./1/125276/coverorgin.jpg?v=c8aa22359124d178fbaa81f2256f68a1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Marrying His Rival: The Heiress's Sweet Revenge
For seven years, I hid my identity as the sole heiress to the Carlisle fortune, running a small bakery in Brooklyn to secretly fund my boyfriend's hockey career. Just as he became a star player, I checked our joint account to plan a celebration, only to find the balance sitting at exactly $1.37. He had secretly wired millions of my money to his mistress and their three-year-old son. When I confronted him with the evidence, he didn't even try to apologize. "Scarlett is my savior. Let's just part on good terms. Name your price, how much do you want?" He scoffed at my silence, mocking me as a broke baker, and ruthlessly kicked me out of the luxury penthouse—completely unaware that I was the one who had paid for it. I had dropped out of an Ivy League school and sold my grandmother's jewelry to support him through his lowest points, only to realize I was just a walking ATM and the unwitting backdrop for his real family. Looking at his condescending face, my shattered heart finally turned to dust. I didn't scream, cry, or beg like he expected. I simply packed my suitcase, walked out into the cold night, and dialed a number I knew by heart. "Mom, I'll agree to the marriage with the Montgomery family." It was time to marry his biggest rival and show him exactly who he had crossed./1/115867/coverorgin.jpg?v=24fd82613fec41f5cbbafeba5e2cfcf9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Absolute Dominance: The Billionaire's Vengeance
For three years, I hid my identity as the sole heiress of a multi-billion dollar tech empire to live in a cramped apartment and support my boyfriend, Ben. But the day before our engagement, I stood outside a meeting room and overheard him talking to his wealthy boss, Haylie. "She's just a stepping stone," Ben laughed, his voice full of contempt. "A poor, ambitionless distraction while I work my way up to where I really belong." He mocked the cheap silver ring he gave me, calling it a necessary prop to keep a naive fool happy. He bragged about the multi-million dollar merger proposal he was presenting, planning to use it to secure his promotion and build a future with her. He had no idea that I had secretly negotiated that entire deal using my real connections just to give him his big break. I had sacrificed my family's comfort, my true identity, and my own career just to watch him rise. I poured my heart and soul into our humble beginnings, only to realize he saw my love as a pathetic joke and me as disposable trash. I calmly picked up a pen and voided the merger agreement, tearing my hard work into tiny pieces. I went home, slid the cheap ring off my finger, and dropped it into his mug of cold coffee. "Soon, you'll find out exactly who is nothing." Walking out the door, I pulled out my phone and texted my billionaire father. "I'm in. Announce the merger."/0/83098/coverorgin.jpg?v=9a1d6398c5dde7fb3ef6bfeaca225767&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No Longer Their ATM
Thanksgiving rush, the usual chaos of life with my daughter, Jessica. For years, I' d been their quiet support, their free childcare, their endless ATM. My late husband' s heroism left me one asset: our fully paid-off home. Then, a towering display of canned goods began to fall, directly on my grandson, Brayden. Without a thought, I shoved him clear, and the world went dark under a crushing weight. Instead of concern when I woke in the ER, dazed and concussed, my daughter Jessica' s voice cut through the fog. She wasn' t worried about my stitches, only Brayden' s scraped knee and her "ruined Thanksgiving." Then came the demand: While I was still hurting, Jessica, backed by Kevin' s sniveling mother, insisted I sign over my house. My house, the anchor my husband provided, their latest target. When I refused, their true colors showed. They locked me in my own former room, seizing my phone, a prisoner in my own daughter's house. My own flesh and blood, willing to go to such lengths-accusing me, then holding me captive-all for a piece of property. The betrayal was a deeper concussion than any physical blow. How could the daughter I raised, the grandson I saved, become instruments in such a cruel play? But as my son Michael and his wife Emily burst through the flimsy door, a cold clarity settled over me. This wasn't pity-this was war. I was done being their victim, their dogsbody, their endless resource. This was the moment I stopped being Sarah the doormat, and started fighting back for Sarah./0/84396/coverorgin.jpg?v=237aeac23f5a41293f2f3faf0acf047c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
