Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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The Price Of His Choice
My husband Elliott and I were expecting our first child. Then his ex, Kenya, showed up, claiming she was dying and had his secret son. He chose her. I watched him play happy family with her while I sat alone at our baby' s ultrasound. Later, her son pushed me so hard I nearly miscarried. In the hospital, she sent me a picture of my late father' s locket, shattered, with a text saying Elliott called it "junk." When I confronted her, Elliott violently threw me out of her room. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he roared. "She' s fragile!" He was protecting the woman who tried to kill our baby, and calling me the monster. He held me prisoner in our home, parading his new family in public while I was erased. He thought I was too weak to leave, that I' d just accept my new place. The night of their lavish "Welcome Home" party, while the city celebrated his touching love story, I walked out the front door and never looked back./1/103141/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260123115122&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Eighteen Days to Forget You
Eighteen days after giving up on Jarrett Sheppard, Alayna Dickerson cut off her waist-length hair and called her father, announcing her decision to move to California and attend the UC Berkeley College of Music. Her father, Samuel Dickerson, surprised, asked about the sudden change, reminding her how she'd always insisted on staying with Jarrett. Alayna forced a laugh, revealing the painful truth: Jarrett was getting married, and she, his stepsister, could no longer cling to him. That night, she tried to tell Jarrett about her college acceptance, but his fiancée, Kisha Prince, interrupted with a bubbly call, and Jarrett's tender words to Kisha twisted a knife in Alayna's heart. She remembered how his tenderness used to be hers alone, how he had given her her first harmonica when she was eight, becoming her musical mentor, and how she had poured out her heart to him in a love letter at seventeen, only for him to explode, tearing the letter and yelling, "I'm your brother!" He had stormed out, leaving her to painstakingly tape the shredded pieces back together. Her love, however, didn't die, not even when he brought Kisha home and told her to call her "sister-in-law." Now, she understood. She had to put that fire out herself. She had to dig Jarrett out of her heart./1/114561/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260430154845&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Regret, Her Sudden Marriage
For seven years, I hid my identity as a wealthy heiress to be with my boyfriend, Ewing. I followed him across the country and made myself small so he could feel big. On Thanksgiving, he ditched our celebration for his first love, Bree, who supposedly had a "burst pipe." Later, she posted an intimate selfie with him, calling him her "hero." Then she sent me a video of him at a bar, laughing with his friends. "She's just being dramatic," he slurred, smirking at the camera. "A new necklace and she'll forget all about it. She's easy." Easy. Seven years of my life, my love, my sacrifice-all reduced to that one word. I realized I was never his partner. I was just a placeholder. I didn't cry. I packed my bags, booked a one-way flight to New York, and sent him one final text before blocking his number. "Don't bother coming home. I'm getting married."/0/61216/coverorgin.jpg?v=0968269a6d701a78dc19faff5e2c5645&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When The Past Love Knocks
My mom is pressuring me to go on blind dates. On a whim, I grabbed a handsome guy off the street to pretend to be my boyfriend. After taking advantage of him, I dumped him. Two years later, the interviewer turns out to be my ex-boyfriend whom I had abandoned. His face darkens. "Kaelyn, right? How long did your last boyfriend last?" "Less than a month before you dumped him? Your loyalty is questionable." "A girl like you isn't suitable for our company." But he broke down when he found out I got married. The day after the interview was a bust, he was waiting at my doorstep, holding a child. He smiled and asked, "Married? Where's your husband?"/0/93755/coverorgin.jpg?v=101be2aec5bfac867564fc041ecb6ab3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Will He Love Me When Time Runs Out?
Madelyn devoted sixteen years to loving Noah, and after finally marrying him, she believed her happiness would last forever. Instead, she faced relentless tragedy: a diagnosis of terminal brain cancer, her family's financial collapse, and her father's heartbreaking suicide. The woman Noah truly loved suddenly returned, leaving Madelyn with nothing left to hold on to. Noah dismissed her divorce request as a tantrum, but when her medical report and the signed papers landed in his hands, he was plunged into utter panic, realizing what he was about to lose./0/84056/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106203614&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Beyond the Betrayal: Gabby's Sweet Comeback
My hands, my father' s legacy, were destined for culinary greatness. I was just days away from the Golden Whisk competition, a scholarship to Le Cordon Bleu within reach, my dream of becoming a master pastry chef about to ignite. And Caleb Scott, the man I loved, my seemingly devoted partner, was supposed to be my biggest supporter. Then, with a sharp click, the heavy industrial mixer door slammed shut, my hand trapped inside. A white-hot explosion of pain, a raw scream. Caleb stood before me, his eyes cold, resolute. "Molly' s father died for me, Gabby. I owe her this." In an instant, he shattered not just my bones, but my future. My career was over before it began. Staring at my mangled hand, then at his impassive face, I couldn' t comprehend this monstrous betrayal. He offered to "take care of me," an insult layered on top of the injury. Molly, his childhood friend, later visited me in the hospital, feigning sympathy, holding the trophy I should have won. His mother then offered me a fortune – a bribe to disappear and erase me from their perfect narrative. I took the money, feeling my spirit crush under the weight of their callousness. How could the man who claimed to love me orchestrate such a cruel, calculated act? What kind of debt repayment costs another person their entire life' s ambition? Why would he so casually destroy everything I worked for, for someone else' s perceived gain? But as I packed the last remnants of my old life, clutching my father' s recipe book, I felt a new flicker within the devastation. This wasn't the end; it was a forced redirection. I would not disappear. I would reclaim my love for baking, on my own terms./0/86559/coverorgin.jpg?v=344e7464095e9553322c8d772384eab0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Scorned Wife, Sudden Fortune
The world came back to me in fragments of pain, the profound exhaustion of thirty-six hours of labor. They saved me, saved my daughter, and I expected relief. Instead, I heard my husband, Ethan, from the hall, his voice light, conversational, almost cheerful. "She' s completely torn apart down there… it' s disgusting. Like a war zone." My breath caught. "And her stomach," he whispered, "It' s all loose and flabby, covered in these weird purple lines. She looks like a deflated balloon. I swear, I don' t think I can ever touch her again." My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a painful thud of realization. This was the man who had held my hand, told me I was brave. Then the other voice, "What about the kid?" A flicker of desperate hope ignited. He wanted a daughter so badly. "It' s a girl," Ethan said, his voice flat. "Lily. Cries all the time. Just another thing to deal with." The hope died. Then his tone shifted, charming, for a phone call. "I know, I wish you were here instead. I can' t wait to see you." A mistress. The late nights, the secretive calls, the growing distance I' d blamed on pregnancy stress-it all clicked into place. Tears, hot and silent, streamed from my eyes. Not sadness, but rage and a grief so profound it felt like a physical wound. He wasn' t just shallow, he was cruel. Not just a bad husband, but a monster. In that sterile, blood-scented room, I mourned my marriage, the man I thought I knew. A cold, hard decision settled in my soul, listening to him coo at his lover. My daughter would not have a father like him. I would raise her alone. This wasn' t the end of my pain, but it was the beginning of my fight./0/89062/coverorgin.jpg?v=a79fa856458c2d9bf4fbf8a50cccfe05&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Oops! My Real Identity Just Destroyed My Con Artist Boyfriend
On the first day of school, my childhood sweetheart boyfriend, Xander Harris, took me to school, but we met a two-faced roommate. She flattered him, praising his exceptional maturity for his age. Yet, she accused me of being vain, carrying a knock-off designer bag, and creating a rich persona. As I tidied my bed, she dramatically gasped. "Wasn't that wealthy older benefactor who accompanied you yesterday supposed to rent you a place near campus? What happened? Did he change his mind?" When she learned that my boyfriend and I planned to marry right after graduation, she shouted loud, "You can't be serious! Are there still gold diggers who want to get something for nothing and rely on men?" Inside, I was laughing hysterically. Wealthy older benefactor? That was my dad! And my boyfriend? Just the son of my dad's driver./1/104080/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106223535&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Lost My Savior, Found His Pain
For years, I believed my unique blood was a gift to save the man I loved. Now, he saw it as a poison. At the urging of his venomous new lover, Kim, he believed I was a family enemy trying to destroy him. He subjected me to endless torture, draining my life force to treat Kim' s fake pregnancy. Each extraction, which he saw as me faking my pain, was actually pushing my body toward total collapse. I endured it all for one reason: to protect my innocent brother, Benny. But how could the man whose life I'd secretly preserved be so blind to the truth? When they captured Benny and threatened his life, I offered my final sacrifice. I gave Cliffton my entire remaining life force, dissolving into light before his very eyes. And in that instant, as his cured parents appeared to reveal every lie, he finally understood: he had just murdered his own salvation./0/85464/coverorgin.jpg?v=30759f422a91449ee477d99f5450a116&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Son Who Chose A Stranger
Three weeks after Mark informed me his "ideal woman" Sarah was moving in, forcing me out, I returned to our house for one thing: the divorce papers his lawyer drafted. As I fumbled for keys I no longer had, heavy, uneven footsteps sounded behind me, a low, slurred muttering growing closer. I pounded on the door, screaming for Mark and our son, Ethan, but through the peephole, Ethan' s shadow moved, then his voice came, muffled and cold: "Go away. You're scaring Sarah." My blood ran cold as my own son chose a stranger' s comfort over my safety, a drunken attacker' s hand clamped down on my shoulder. I screamed, fought, and tumbled onto the lawn, only to hear Ethan tell Mark on the phone, "Mom is making a scene… she's scaring Sarah!" Mark rushed past me, shivering and disheveled, to comfort Sarah, who stood draped in my robe, her face buried in Ethan' s shoulder. He then rounded on me, disgusted: "Look at you, Ava. Making a scene in the middle of the night. You woke Sarah up. She was terrified." They stood united, demanding I apologize to the woman who replaced me, for the crime of being assaulted on my own doorstep, as I realized my phone was dead, useless to call for help. When Sarah offered me peanut butter cookies, knowing about my life-threatening allergy, and Mark merely stared, impatient, without a flicker of recognition, the quiet truth dawned: he didn't remember, or worse, he didn't care. The man who once promised to always be my protector was gone, replaced by a cold stranger, eager for me to sign away our life so he could care for his new love. In that moment of profound betrayal, something shifted inside me. I signed the papers, then looked at Ethan: "I'm going to need to make a statement to the police. I'll need to use your phone." No longer fighting for a husband who despised me or a son who saw me as an inconvenience, I spoke to the police, then blocked Mark and Ethan' s numbers, cutting the last ties./0/81866/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106195904&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Ashes, A Phoenix Rises
My 21st birthday, meant for celebrating my engagement to Ethan, turned into a nightmare when Brooklyn's "art installation" exploded, disfiguring me. Caleb and Ethan, my brother and fiancé, feigned concern, but a phantom "gossip blog" in my vision exposed their gruesome truth. They weren't protecting me; they were using my injury as an excuse to exile and neglect me, diverting my critical burn medicine to Brooklyn while plotting to steal her tech. The blog revealed their plan: to commit me to a remote facility once their scheme was complete, while they praised my tormentor. They stripped me of my home, sent thugs to "therapy" me, and Ethan shamelessly broke our engagement, leaving me to face violence. The betrayal reached its horrifying peak on my 22nd birthday when Brooklyn desecrated my mother's bracelet, and my own brother and fiancé dragged me into a frigid lake. They repeatedly submerged me, watching my wounds bleed, all for their twisted corporate gains. How could the people who swore to love me unleash such calculated cruelty? My burning pain and utter dehumanization revealed their true faces. Lying bloody by the lakeside, as the phantom blog vanished, I realized the full depth of their treachery-and found my unshakeable resolve to fight back and escape their grasp forever./0/84369/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106204438&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Wife's Faked Death
At sixty-six, lying in a hospice bed, my breath a shallow rasp, I faced the end of a lifetime of thankless labor. My estranged daughter stood by, refusing eye contact, when she announced, "You have a visitor." The door opened, and in walked a woman older, impeccably dressed-my wife, Jenny, who had supposedly died in a fiery car crash forty years ago. She thanked me for raising Stella and caring for her parents, then offered a condescending "donation" to cover my burial costs. The betrayal, forty years old, ripped through me like a fresh wound, knowing my daughter was in on the lie, my whole life a bitter joke. My heart seized, the world went dark, and the monitor beside my bed screamed its frantic protest. Then, light. I gasped, shooting upright, my heart strong, my hands calloused and young. I wasn' t in a hospice; I was in my own bedroom, 26 again, clutching Jenny' s crumpled "suicide note." She was gone, but not dead. This time, I' d make her "death" real./0/80771/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106194116&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Fiancée's Fatal Deceit
The call came late, just as I was about to ice my leg, a throbbing reminder of my past tours. My fiancée, Sarah, was mugged, and her terrified voice sealed my resolve to protect her, always. Our wedding, even just days away, solidified my belief in our future, and I thought she felt the same. Months later, her ‘high-risk’ pregnancy was demanding, but I cherished the thought of our baby. Until I came home early one day, expecting to surprise her, and found her on a video call in the nursery. With Dave. My sleazy cousin Dave, who was supposed to be out of state. His slick voice echoed, "Our little jackpot is almost here! Good thing you pulled off that ‘mugging’ story. Mike bought it hook, line, and sinker." Sarah giggled, "He still doesn’t know we’ve been together since before he proposed. He’s too noble for his own good." My world shattered. The woman I’d pledged my life to, the baby I was so ready to father, Aunt Carol’s property, even my company funds – all were just parts of their cold, calculated con. The love, the sacrifice, everything built on a monstrous lie. The pain was searing, but beneath it, a chilling resolve ignited. I wouldn't break. I wouldn't let them win. I called my lawyer, then I called about a high-danger contract overseas, the one I’d turned down for ‘our’ baby. It was time to sever ties, escape, and then, deliver retribution./1/123009/coverorgin.jpg?v=27c41ad5142d2142b6a41a00b61eabbf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Meek Ex-Wife Is Now an Untouchable Tycoon
After three years of a freezing marriage, Alivia finally signed the divorce papers handed to her by Adler Rivera. But just as she celebrated her freedom, a message from her private investigator shattered her world: the near-fatal attack she survived three years ago was orchestrated by her adoptive parents and Adler. Before she could investigate, Adler forced her to attend her adoptive sister Kendal's birthday party. They publicly humiliated her with an ill-fitting dress, and then Kendal hired two thugs and locked Alivia in a dim hotel suite with them. "Lure her inside and ruin her reputation. The cash is yours." Kendal's recorded voice laid out the plan to lead a mob of high-society guests upstairs to "catch" Alivia in a scandalous act, destroying her completely. For twenty-four years, Alivia had endured the Houstons' neglect and exploitation. She couldn't understand why the family that raised her and the man she married would conspire to violently end her life. What exactly were they trying to hide? But they didn't know she was no longer their helpless puppet. It was time to show them who the real predator was./1/104393/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106223610&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Revenge: His Empire Crumbles
I woke up in my husband's office to a chilling discovery. Stamped across my face in bold, red letters was "USDA PRIME"-a cruel joke from his intern, Karma. But my husband, Josiah, the man whose tech empire I helped build, didn't defend me. He called it a harmless prank and shielded his mistress from my rage. The humiliation was broadcast for the world to see. He then gave her my custom anniversary gown and took her to a charity gala. As if that wasn't enough, she announced she was pregnant with his child. He chose her. He chose their new "family" over our seven years of marriage, over the memory of the child we lost together. The look he gave her, full of a tenderness I hadn't seen in years, shattered the last piece of my heart. So as he walked out the door with her, my lawyers walked in. At the next board meeting, I watched the color drain from his face as I froze every asset to his name. "Sign the divorce papers, Josiah," I said, pushing a pen across the table. "My responsibility now is to clean house."/1/109399/coverorgin.jpg?v=71eacddce77e238e4c2f124b48bced09&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Silent No More: The Genius Ex-Wife's Revenge
The hospital ceiling was a blinding white, and I was losing my baby in a pool of rusty red. Because of my selective mutism, I couldn't scream as the doctors demanded a next-of-kin signature for the emergency surgery I needed to survive. With trembling hands, I called my husband, Julius. The line clicked open to the sound of cheering and a baby's first cry. Julius wasn't at work; he was in a delivery room, holding another woman's hand. "I'm right here, Chanelle. One last push. You can do it." When he finally realized I was on the line, his warmth vanished instantly. "Elinor? I'm busy. Don't call just to breathe on the line." He hung up while I was hemorrhaging on the gurney. Minutes later, my mother-in-law appeared not with comfort, but with a lawyer and a legal waiver. "Sign away any claim your lost child gave you, or you don't get a cent for this procedure." I signed the paper with a hand slick with blood, watching my child’s existence be erased for a few more minutes of life. When I returned home, Julius didn't ask if I was okay. He called me "barren" and "hysterical" while his mother forced a tray of raw, bloody organs into my hands, demanding I cook a recovery meal for the mistress. They thought my silence was a weakness, a padlock they could keep locked forever. They didn't know I was a forensic accountant with a secret crypto fortune and the original blueprints for every design the mistress had ever stolen from me. I realized then that I wasn't an incubator or a maid—I was the one who held the keys to their entire financial empire. I took off my five-carat ring, tossed it into the fireplace, and sent a single message to a lawyer. "It's time for total war."/0/93286/coverorgin.jpg?v=e2c607ad830dc9db5ff0e57380934469&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love Was My Cage, Not Salvation
For five years, I was Grace Miller, the long-lost heiress to an agricultural empire, returned to my doting parents and a perfect husband, Caleb. They were my everything, the family I’d craved my whole life. But it was all a lie. A wrong turn led me to a secret farm where I found my husband playing with a little boy and Paige—the adopted daughter they told me had died in a car crash. My parents were in on it, funding their secret life and their “true” grandchild. They hadn’t just hidden a secret family; they were plotting my disposal. A voice memo on Caleb’s computer revealed their plan: to have me drugged with anxiety medication and declared mentally unstable if I caused trouble for the company. The love I thought was my salvation was actually my cage. The naive girl who believed in their affection died that day, replaced by a cold, calculated rage. At a family dinner a few nights later, my mother slid a glass of wine toward me. "You look so pale, dear," she said. "Drink this. It will help you relax." I knew it was the first step of their plan. The wine was drugged. I smiled, held their gazes, and drank the entire glass in one long swallow. The game was over. My game was just beginning./1/104706/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106224600&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Gilded Cage To Unchained Queen
To save my dying father, I made a deal with the billionaire Christopher Kirkland. I became his secret, a bird in a gilded cage he paraded around when it suited him. But I was just a pawn in his twisted game to win back his ex-girlfriend. He proved it when he publicly outbid me for my own mother's heirloom necklace, only to gift it to her right in front of me. Then he threw me out of the penthouse. My few cherished belongings-my books, a photo of my parents-were tossed out. "Chaney doesn't like clutter," he told me, erasing my entire existence for her. A text on his phone confirmed the brutal truth. "Our little game is working perfectly," she'd written. "She's completely fooled." Years later, after she betrayed him and his empire nearly crumbled, he came back begging. He thought he could buy my forgiveness. He was about to learn that my freedom had no price tag./0/88906/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106213356&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Philanthropist's Daughter, The Traitor's Wife
Five years ago, my parents, philanthropists who lost everything in a financial crisis, were framed for fraud and died with their names destroyed. My fiancé, Jaydan Beasley, was my only light, my savior, defying everyone to stand by me. Today, I spent my last twenty dollars on roses for him, celebrating our love, unaware that the man I adored was systematically stealing my life's work-a social impact project meant to redeem my family's name-and funneling it to his old flame, Cuba Dawson. I overheard him, his voice chillingly unfamiliar, confessing his deceit to his best friend. He called me "fragile," "trusting," a "charity case," and revealed our entire marriage was a calculated strategy to pave the way for Cuba's success. The roses slipped from my hand, my world shattering. He had meticulously planned to discard me once Cuba's company went public, leaving me with nothing, again. The man I thought was my protector was, in fact, my destroyer, turning my milestones into markers of his betrayal. The love I felt curdled into a cold, hard rage. He had taken everything-my family's name, my work, my love. But he had no idea who he was dealing with. I would make them pay. I would take it all back./1/115031/coverorgin.jpg?v=71c40cfd91771a5a73ba17e7ca86cfa3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
