Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Seven Years of Mismeasured Love
My step-brother twisted my love confession for his best friend, Elliott, branding me a manipulative social climber. For seven years, a glowing "Disgust Meter" above Elliott' s head confirmed his hatred, forcing me to flee New York. When I returned, I woke up in his apartment to a shocking truth. He confessed the meter was a malfunctioning "Pure Love System"-the rising numbers had always been a measure of his love, not his disgust. But just as hope bloomed, my step-brother sent me a screenshot from a group chat: "Elliott's Marriage Bet." His friends laughed about me being a "side quest," a pawn in a cruel game to get him to marry someone else. My heart shattered. Was his confession just another lie? Was I nothing more than a toy to be broken for their amusement? But when Elliott dropped to one knee in a Parisian boardroom, publicly declaring war on my brother and swearing his love was real, I knew the truth was far more complicated than I ever imagined./1/113921/coverorgin.jpg?v=c8934c9ca172c1d2ccc2caf8d37bb4c0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The CEO's Runaway Cinderella Returns
At the project kickoff party, Isabelle casually mocked the new capital representative, calling him a suit with a trust fund. A low, magnetic voice spoke from the shadows right behind her. It was Bennett Lloyd, the man holding the purse strings for the entire project. But as Isabelle turned around, her blood ran cold. He wasn't just her new boss. He was the stranger she had a desperate one-night stand with five years ago. The man she had fled from before dawn, leaving only a fake name. In her panic to escape him, Isabelle tripped on the marble stairs and left behind a single, custom-made diamond heel. Bennett found it, but instead of exposing her, he began a terrifying game of cat and mouse. He forced her to be his exclusive on-site consultant, vetoed her vacation time, and isolated her from her team. He trapped her in his office, his touches lingering just enough to remind her of that night, slowly suffocating her professional life as payback. Pushed to the brink of a breakdown by his relentless torment, Isabelle sat in a hotel bar, drowning her panic in vodka. She pulled out her phone, intending to send a voice memo to her best friend to confess the suffocating guilt she had hidden for years. "I can't do this anymore. I'm a sinner. I killed her... I killed my mother." She hit send, only to realize her screen didn't show her friend's name. The confession had gone straight to Bennett Lloyd./1/101592/coverorgin.jpg?v=5c4ed57d893835fb89f31c5e24bca3bd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Vicious Family's Cruelest Deception
I handed my resignation to my husband, Charles, ending seven years of being the secret genius behind his jewelry empire. I thought I was just leaving a cheater, but then I learned the horrifying truth. My stepsister, Haylee, hadn't just stolen him; she had tampered with my medication, deliberately causing every single one of my previous miscarriages. When I tried to escape, the nightmare truly began. Haylee killed her own poodle and framed me for it. To "teach me a lesson," Charles locked me in a pitch-black closet for hours, ignoring my severe claustrophobia. He dragged me out, forced my pregnant body to kneel, and slammed my head against the marble floor until I bled. Then, he made me dig the dog's grave with my bare hands while my own mother watched and sneered. Lying in the dirt, broken and bleeding, I realized they thought they were destroying Charles's heir. They were wrong. I dialed the number of the billionaire tycoon who had been waiting in the shadows. "Grayson," I whispered through cracked lips. "The baby is yours. Come get us."/0/83423/coverorgin.jpg?v=8e67257b92cac89fa3d3addb27d97215&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Husband's Other Woman
The fluorescent hum of the ER was my world, a demanding but predictable rhythm. I was a dedicated doctor, a loving wife to Julian, a university professor, and a proud mother to Lily. I even funded a scholarship for bright students from my hometown, like Chloe. Then, a pager call shattered that peace. It led me to cubicle three, where my husband, Julian, was intimately comforting a sobbing young woman: Chloe, the student I' d proudly sponsored. Anonymous whispers from nurses confirmed my worst fear: an affair. His frantic lies, her chilling taunts about my 'unfeminine' career, and later, the explicit photos and a voice memo of him mocking me and praising her, all twisted the knife. But the real horror began when this student, Chloe, started bullying my six-year-old daughter, Lily, at preschool, spreading vicious rumors that caused physical and emotional harm. My blood ran cold with a rage so pure it froze my veins. How could the man I built a life with, and the girl I selflessly helped, conspire in such a cruel, public dismantling of my family, systematically using my child as a weapon? The humiliation was suffocating, the injustice unbearable. When Lily, through tears, told Julian she didn't want him as her Daddy anymore, something snapped. Right there, amongst the whispers and lies, a new resolve solidified within me. I was divorcing him, and I had the evidence to ensure he wouldn't fight it./1/104837/coverorgin.jpg?v=e01a1d576d339913a6181911680a7bc8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted Wife's Fiery Rebirth
My husband of five years, a ruthless New York mogul, paraded his affairs while refusing to touch me. My existence was a public humiliation, a constant, quiet ache in a gilded cage. To finally get a reaction, I staged a fake affair of my own. His response wasn't jealousy. It was violence. He stabbed me with a letter opener and threatened to destroy the one thing I had left: my late mother's memorial garden. At his mistress's birthday party-held on the anniversary of my mother's death-he forced me to my knees. I had to publicly apologize to the woman he was cheating on me with, my own half-sister, Aubrey. But the ultimate betrayal came when I discovered a secret video from a decade ago. It proved Aubrey hadn't just been there when my mother fell from a balcony. She had pushed her. And my husband-the man who swore he'd find her killer-had helped cover it all up. As I knelt on that cold floor, broken and defeated, he made his final choice. He pressed a button on a remote, and my mother's garden exploded into dust and ash. In that moment, the woman he thought he knew died, and someone new was born from the wreckage./1/101917/coverorgin.jpg?v=da665cd611c51bf8b51d6c005a0930eb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Remembered Too Late
My husband, Roger Harvey, was a renowned top-tier lawyer in the industry, but he could never remember anything outside of his cases. He never remembered my birthday or our wedding anniversary. Every night he stood at the bedroom door and asked politely yet distantly, "Is this the one?" He could not even remember my name or what I looked like. To make him "remember" me, I hung our wedding photo on the wall with a label underneath. "Anniversary: May 20." I put a nameplate on the bedroom door that read "Bedroom." I even labeled everything in the house with sticky notes that explained in detail how to use each item and its background. I thought it was a side effect of his high-pressure job, so I never complained. That changed the day a multi-car pileup sent both me and his childhood friend, Sylvie Gordon, into the emergency room at the same time. He rushed frantically to Sylvie's bedside and shouted in a clear, urgent voice, "She has tachycardia. She caught a cold last month but no fever." The nurse handling the rescue grabbed him and asked, "Sir, your wife is also seriously injured. Does she have any medical history or allergies?" He turned his head, looked at me covered in blood, and shook his head blankly. "I don't remember." In that moment I finally understood. He was not forgetful. His memory was astonishingly sharp. He simply reserved that precise, precious memory for someone else. Everything about me he had never cared to keep in his heart. This was a dramatic tug-of-war between love and betrayal. It was a heart-wrenching journey of self-redemption. Yet when I decided to leave, he was suddenly filled with panic.../0/99646/coverorgin.jpg?v=5e741d75c7b90b3729d4e12473e023c0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Called Off Our Forever
Tonight, my boyfriend of seven years, Benjamin Kane, was supposed to propose. Our future was a perfect picture, planned down to the last detail. But a single phone call shattered it all. A mysterious voice convinced him I was a gold digger who would ruin him, and that another woman, Jenna Christian, was his true soulmate. He called off our engagement on the spot. That was only the beginning of my nightmare. I was stalked by a man obsessed with Jenna, a confrontation that ended with me falling from a rooftop and shattering my arm. Then, I was kidnapped by a shady agency, trapped by a contract Jenna had signed in my name. I was living the horrific fate that was meant for her. Benjamin, the man who promised me forever, abandoned me to suffer while defending the very woman who orchestrated my torment. Lying in a hospital bed, I received an acceptance letter for a design scholarship in Paris. It was my only escape. I took it, leaving behind the man who broke me and the life he destroyed./1/101593/coverorgin.jpg?v=546c366783e29e6b6b4be45f4fa9d814&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Pink Car of Betrayal
My husband unveiled a custom pink car on live TV, calling it a "tribute to our love." The internet hailed him as the perfect man. But I knew the truth. That car was the exact place he cheated on me with his VP, Keri. And the lipstick stain on the passenger seat wasn't mine. He thought I was at home, waiting to celebrate his success. Instead, I was at a clinic, signing a waiver to surgically remove my memories. I aborted the child he desperately wanted. I smashed the jade locket he claimed bound our souls together. I burned my passport, my license, and every photo of us in the kitchen sink. When he finally came home, he found nothing but an empty house and a gift box containing the remains of our unborn child. A year later, he crashed my engagement party in Charleston, falling to his knees and begging for forgiveness. I looked down at the weeping billionaire and felt absolutely nothing. "I'm sorry, sir," I said calmly. "But do I know you?"/0/81153/coverorgin.jpg?v=3e376c98a8c8f271a8e3a88d6f093fe8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Beyond the Stuntman
Jack Riley, a top Hollywood stunt coordinator and a discreet civilian specialist for the Department of Defense, was heading to a classified flight. After six critical months away on a secret vehicle testing project, he' d left his multi-million dollar company, Riley's Precision Stunts, and his personal finances in the seemingly capable hands of his longtime fiancée, Brenda. He thought he could trust her with everything. However, his composure shattered on the freeway when a bright orange McLaren recklessly swerved, brake-checked him, and caused a violent collision. The driver, Kyle "King Kyle" Peterson, a preening social media pest, immediately started boasting about his "sugar mama" buying his six-figure supercar. The cold truth hit Jack: it was the exact McLaren Brenda had cooed about wanting for an anniversary gift – a gift he' d wisely refused. Then came the deeper blow: Kyle called Brenda, and her sickeningly sweet voice confirmed she was his "baby," mocking Jack and his truck, declaring it "worthless." She then shockingly attempted to have him "fired" from his own company, even bringing her imposing "assistants" to underscore her authority. Outsiders watched, openly judging Jack, thinking he was just some old, pathetic man. The sheer audacity of her betrayal churned in Jack' s gut. How could the woman he' d loved, the woman he' d empowered and trusted with his entire life' s work and fortune, not only be cheating but actively plundering his company and brazenly siding with a narcissistic opportunist against him, all while he' d been serving his country? The injustice was a suffocating weight. But Jack Riley was no ordinary man. A master of strategic thinking and quiet resilience, he decided then and there, amidst the chaos. He would play their twisted game, allowing them to dig their own graves. He' d meticulously expose every layer of deceit, beginning his calculated, devastating counter-attack that would reclaim everything they thought they' d stolen from him./1/114247/coverorgin.jpg?v=9951651ebcc3b7c7280c3bccf0b87368&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Goodbye Ex, Hello Billionaire Husband
After four years of marriage, my wealthy husband Brad handed me a $50,000 severance check outside the Manhattan Family Court. He linked arms with his mistress, Jenna, who flaunted the diamond ring that used to be mine. "Just take it, Hayley. Take the money and get out of our lives," he sneered, looking at me with absolute disgust. I tore the check into pieces, but my nightmare was just beginning. To access my grandfather's trust fund, I had exactly seventy-two hours to get legally married, so I desperately proposed a one-year contract marriage to a poor insurance salesman I met in a dive bar. When Brad found out, he and his arrogant family cornered me at their estate. Brad mocked my new husband for being a penniless, money-grubbing parasite, while my former mother-in-law slapped me hard across the face, knocking me to the ground. "You are trash, just like your mother," she spat, watching my knee bleed onto the sharp gravel. Jenna gleefully kicked my phone away, shattering the screen and cutting off my only lifeline. Lying there in the dirt, I stared at the broken glass in absolute despair. I didn't understand why four years of quiet devotion had earned me nothing but cruel betrayal and endless humiliation from the people I once called family. Just as I thought I had completely lost, a black Lincoln Navigator slammed to a halt at the gates. My "penniless" new husband stepped out, radiating a terrifying, righteous fury that made the entire Patton family freeze in horror./1/115545/coverorgin.jpg?v=4e71ca324722c318917528f7a2140cbf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Flash Marriage To My Mysterious Paralyzed Husband
I sat at a table for two in the center of Le Coucou, clutching a gift box that had cost me two months of savings. It was our three-year anniversary, and I was waiting for Gavin to finally ask the big question. But when the heavy oak doors opened, Gavin didn't walk toward me with a ring. He walked in with a polished blonde heiress tucked under his arm, her hand resting protectively over a small baby bump. "This is Tiffany Stone. My fiancée," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn't apologize for being late or for the three years we'd spent together. Instead, he pulled out a checkbook, scribbled a number, and slid a ten-thousand-dollar check across the white tablecloth. "Consider it severance for your time," he added, as Tiffany mocked my cheap drugstore dress. "Don't contact me again. Tiffany doesn't need the stress." I was the entertainment for the entire restaurant—the pathetic girl dumped for a better model. By the time I walked out into the rain, I had lost my boyfriend, my home, and the funding for my secret medical research project. I was an orphan with no safety net, facing an eviction notice and a ruined career. I had given Gavin everything, and he had discarded me like a broken tool. The injustice burned in my chest, a hot, sharp rage that replaced my tears. Desperate and freezing, I ducked into a coffee shop where I met Colton Bentley, a reclusive billionaire in a wheelchair. After I defended him from a cruel date, he offered me a contract: a marriage of convenience and a seven-figure payment to act as his shield. I signed the papers that night, ready to use his wealth to rebuild my life. But as I watched my new husband navigate his penthouse, I noticed his "paralyzed" legs tense with a strength that shouldn't exist./0/58442/coverorgin.jpg?v=d9207ad051fd092c6e40495eb2cd3f75&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reclaiming Her Love
Out of pity, I rescued Jaycob who was abandoned by his family from the hands of the villain. He swore to always treat me well. But after he was recognized by his family, I overheard him talking to his friends: "Jennifer? Just a loveless old woman, approaching me with a purpose. If she hadn't actually saved me, she wouldn't even have the right to stay by my side." I realized that this is how he sees me. I stayed away from him as he wished. But Jaycob regretted it, with red eyes he begged softly, "Jenny, you said you wouldn't reject me."/0/80829/coverorgin.jpg?v=63455f7ae21e774819f832e802421ff4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Wife He Erased
My wife, Sarah, had conveniently "disappeared" three years ago, leaving me, Ethan Cole, the music mogul, free to thrive with my new star, Tiffany Vance—who just happened to be my high school tormentor and current lover. Life was perfect, until Tiffany needed a "raw" memoir and suggested Sarah write it. I returned to Sarah’s godforsaken hometown, expecting to drag my "dramatic" ex-wife back, only to be told by her brother, David, and an old woman, Maria, that Sarah had been dead for three years. I laughed in their faces, accusing them of lying, shoving David, and nearly strangling Maria. I refused to believe it until I ordered my men to dig up her grave. Seeing Sarah’s bones in that cheap coffin felt like a punch to the gut. Then, the world truly tilted when I learned Maria, the woman I’d just assaulted, was my own long-lost mother, whom I believed dead. Tiffany tried to soothe me with a fabricated story of saving me from drowning, holding up a tarnished locket as proof. But the inscription on that locket, a tiny "S.J." and a unique dent, screamed a different truth. It was Sarah’s. She was my savior, not Tiffany. Tiffany had stolen her heroism, just as she'd stolen my life, and used me as a weapon against Sarah and my family. The realization was a cold, terrifying clarity, revealing the monstrous fool I'd been. My world, built on lies and cruelty, shattered. The man who had unknowingly destroyed my life would now be the instrument of ultimate vengeance, vowing to uncover every one of Tiffany’s twisted schemes, every lie, and make everyone involved pay./0/84398/coverorgin.jpg?v=e9ff4a11131b4c3c1659b1a2c71d11e2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Justice For Lily
I sacrificed my promising career as an architect, becoming a devoted stay-at-home dad so my brilliant, charismatic wife, Nicole, could chase her political dreams. Our daughter, Lily, was my world, the only pure thing left in our gilded life. Then I discovered Nicole was cheating with her ambitious campaign intern. I tried to handle it quietly, discreetly reassigning the intern to a remote, terrible posting. But Nicole' s reaction was ice: she retaliated by locking our beloved six-year-old Lily on our yacht, right as a massive storm rolled in, blackmailing me for the intern' s location. Despite my desperate pleas, she abandoned our daughter to find her lover. I raced to the marina, but it was too late. Lily's faint "Daddy!" scream was swallowed by the violent waves as the yacht capsized, taking my daughter with it. Three days later, they found her tiny body. Yet, Nicole scoffed, rolled her eyes, and accused me of fabricating Lily's death to ruin her campaign. When I brought Lily's cremation urn home, Nicole, with her lover by her side, laughed and slapped it to the floor, scattering my daughter's ashes. That moment something inside me snapped. How could the woman I loved, the mother of my child, be so devoid of humanity? How could she deny our daughter's death and shatter her remains? The gentle man I was died on that polished floor. But from the ashes of my despair rose a chilling resolve. Nicole had destroyed my life; now, I would systematically dismantle hers. I was no longer a victim. I was the weapon./1/126252/coverorgin.jpg?v=2db15fb3c9a09e14cb24d6d16d8f384b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late, Mr. Robbins: I Am Gone
For five years, I was the perfect secret lover and indispensable assistant to hockey superstar Blaze Robbins, living quietly in the shadows of his glittering world. But my loyalty was rewarded with a cold, five-million-dollar severance package when he abruptly dumped me to marry a wealthy media heiress-a woman who looked exactly like his famed first love. I refused his money and walked away with nothing, only to discover I was eight weeks pregnant with his child. Before I could even plan for my baby's future, his new fiancée deliberately leaked a highly confidential corporate contract and framed me for the sabotage. The man I had devoted my life to didn't hesitate to take her side. He threatened to sue me for corporate espionage and completely destroy my career if I didn't recover the lost deal within three days. I was completely shattered. I had given him five years of absolute submission, only to be discarded like a disposable placeholder and treated like a vindictive criminal. How could the man whose scars I knew by heart be so ruthlessly blind to the truth? With my back against the wall, I disguised myself as a waitress and snuck onto a billionaire's heavily guarded yacht in Miami to clear my name. But just as I was about to corner my target, a devastatingly handsome stranger stepped into my path, smiling as if he already knew exactly who I was and what I was about to do./1/110354/coverorgin.jpg?v=8ae173b4b1761b6cb233f92c2cddef2d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Veiled Auction Queen: Bidding For His Ex-Wife's Heart
While Emilia mourned at her mother's funeral, her husband Daniel celebrated his first love's birthday. Heartbroken, she left divorce papers and walked away alone. Five years later, at an auction, a veiled chief auctioneer captivated the crowd-rumor said someone once offered millions just to see her face. Daniel finally found the woman he'd searched for all these years and cornered her. "Still running away?" "I never agreed. What about my children?" "Then explain these," he said, pointing at three adorable kids before him. "We're divorced. Leave me alone." "I got rid of them five years ago."/0/88616/coverorgin.jpg?v=42b0d71edb8e17462efb95f4826dc1ed&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Prisoners Of Love
"Prisoners of Love" Two souls bound by a destiny they never chose. One haunted by revenge, the other by secrets too dark to tell. When 19-year-old Liana Cruz wakes up in a stranger's mansion with no memory of how she got there, she's told she now belongs to Damian Blackthorn, a cold and powerful mafia heir who claims she destroyed his past. But what starts as revenge turns into obsession. Liana begins to remember flashes of a life she never lived, and Damian starts to question everything he's believed. As hidden truths unravel and fate tightens its grip, can love free them from the chains of the past - or will they remain... prisoners of fate?/1/101594/coverorgin.jpg?v=c1743c0940bfe706708c81dc8e1a1125&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Empress Who Buries Her Past
I sacrificed my womb and my youth to build Alec' s architectural empire from the shadows. He repaid me by bringing his mistress, Billie, to frame me for plagiarism and destroy my reputation. When my father suffered a massive heart attack, Billie used her influence to block his life-saving surgery. Alec held my dying father' s life hostage, forcing me to my knees in front of the woman who ruined me. "Apologize to her, Cydney," he commanded, "or I pull the plug." I begged. I scraped my dignity off the floor. But they let my father die anyway. Discarded and humiliated, I vanished in a plane crash, leaving only a wedding ring in a landfill. Years later, at a global summit, Alec watched his company crumble under the attacks of a ruthless new rival. He grabbed the woman in the emerald dress, his hands trembling as he recognized the eyes he thought were gone forever. "Cydney? You're alive?" I smiled, cold as ice. "Ms. Frazier is dead, Alec. I' m the one who' s going to bury you."/0/83425/coverorgin.jpg?v=9ea73ac7141600e3cadde7fa82c67aef&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Imposter Husband
My mother-in-law, Brenda, a vision of fragile piety, sat pregnant on my porch swing. Everyone saw a grieving widow; I saw a master manipulator. Then he arrived-the man who looked exactly like my husband, Mike, but wasn't. He defended Brenda's fake theatrics, grabbing my arm when I refused her water. Something inside me snapped. I slapped him. Brenda' s false shock turned the town against me, labeling me "unhinged." My imposter "husband" systematically destroyed my memories, even disassembling our baby' s crib. He called the sheriff, painting me a deranged threat. At a public ceremony honoring my real husband, Brenda feigned a fall, inducing premature labor. Amidst the horror, 'Mike' then accused me of infidelity, twisting my miscarriage into a tale of instability. The town condemned me, believing every word. I was the villain, the crazy wife; their judgment was a scorching fire. They thought they saw a monster. But their entire world was a carefully constructed lie. And I held the truth. "There is shame in this family," I declared, my voice cutting through their righteous fury, "but it's not mine." My methodical vengeance was about to dismantle everything./0/81154/coverorgin.jpg?v=366f4f81c09f6eeec5e9c4de03827095&imageMogr2/format/webp)
