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Modern Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Ordered To Serve His Mistress: Heiress's Revenge

Ordered To Serve His Mistress: Heiress's Revenge

My fiancé sent me a text ordering me to serve his mistress, unaware that the waitress holding the tray was actually the daughter of the man who owned his soul. I was working undercover at his club, playing the role of a poor nobody to test his character before our wedding. But tonight, the test ended in disaster. His mistress, Jaden, walked in and treated me like dirt. When I brought her drink, she slapped the tray, spilling scalding coffee all over my hand. The pain was white-hot. My skin blistered instantly, peeling away in angry red patches. I showed Connor the injury on a video call, expecting protection. Expecting him to be a man. Instead, he looked at my burned hand and then at his investors. Panic filled his eyes. "Fix it, Blake," he roared. "Apologize to her." "She burned me," I said quietly. "I don't care! Kneel if you have to. Kiss her ring. Just make her happy so I can finish this deal!" He told the Principessa of the Shaw crime family to kneel to a woman who meant nothing. He sacrificed his future wife to save face. Something inside me snapped. It wasn't my heart; it was the leash I had placed on myself. "Okay," I whispered. I hung up the phone and dropped it into a pot of boiling pasta water. Then I turned to the Executive Chef, a former hitman who recognized the lethal shift in my eyes. "Lock the doors," I ordered. "And tell my father I'm ready to burn this place to the ground."
Protecting My Vengeful Queen From The Shadows

Protecting My Vengeful Queen From The Shadows

Khloe was pinned inside a crushed car, cold metal piercing her abdomen as she slowly bled to death on the highway. Desperate and fading, she called her fiancé, Brenton, for help. But the call connected to the sound of an orchestra and a cheering crowd. He was marrying a billionaire heiress that very day, standing at the altar in the custom suit Khloe had spent six months tailoring for him. "I was in an accident... Please help me," she begged, coughing up blood. "Don't play these games," Brenton hissed with pure venom. "It would be better for everyone if you just disappeared. Die, for all I care." The line went dead. The silence was heavier than the twisted metal crushing her. As she flatlined in the back of an ambulance, memories of her pathetic life flashed before her. She was just the orphaned daughter of their driver, a charity case they bullied, used, and discarded. His sister stole her designs, and Brenton's love was nothing but a manipulative chain to control her. She had given that family her entire life, her talent, and her heart. Why did her absolute devotion only earn her a cruel, lonely death while he celebrated his new marriage? When Khloe opened her eyes again, the agonizing pain was gone. She was standing in the Waldorf Astoria suite, wearing the pristine white silk gown from her engagement party a year ago. Staring at the drugged champagne Brenton expected her to drink, she picked up a heavy crystal decanter instead. This time, she would make the rules.
Too Late: She Chose The Billionaire Heir

Too Late: She Chose The Billionaire Heir

"She’s just like a sister to me, Eliana. You’re being dramatic." That was Jax’s excuse every time he chose Catalina over me for three years. When Catalina staged a fake drowning in three feet of water, he pushed me aside to save her, telling me my life wasn't his problem. But the breaking point came when she deliberately pushed me down a flight of stairs. My ankle shattered on the concrete. I was lying there in agony, unable to move. Yet, Jax didn't check on me. He stepped over my bleeding body to scoop Catalina up because she had a minor scratch on her elbow. He screamed at me for "hurting" her. While I lay in the hospital alone, waiting for surgery, he was spoon-feeding her soup in her dorm, posting photos captioned "My Hero." He thought I would always be his "Elie Bear," the doormat waiting at home to clean up his messes. He was convinced that no matter how much he hurt me, I would never actually leave. But he was wrong. I didn't scream. I didn't fight. I simply signed the withdrawal papers, blocked his number, and boarded a one-way flight to New York without saying goodbye. Three months later, when Jax finally realized his "sister" was a nightmare and came crawling back to beg for forgiveness, he found me. But I wasn't alone. I was holding the hand of a billionaire heir who looked at Jax with cold, deadly eyes. "Touch her again," my new fiancé whispered, "and I will destroy your entire family by morning."
Karma Served Cold: The Billionaire's Mother

Karma Served Cold: The Billionaire's Mother

The cold garage floor seeped through my thin jeans as I lay hidden, listening. This wasn't a memory; it was a horrifying déjà vu, a second chance at the day that had once destroyed me. Inside, I heard my husband Kevin' s bitter voice, dismissing me as "simple," "always tired," and "smelling like the diner." His mother, Helen, chimed in, labeling me an "anchor, dragging him down" from his imagined football star glory. Then came the chilling words from my own twelve-year-old son, Justin. He openly wished Aunt Tiffany, the "friend" I'd helped through her divorce, was his mom, because her house didn' t smell like "fried onions." Tiffany' s smooth voice, dripping with fake concern, endorsed their narrative, twisting my double shifts into "neglect." I knew their entire sinister plot, every humiliating detail: Justin' s fake "runaway" act, Kevin' s performative call to the police and Child Protective Services, framing me as an unfit mother. They planned to file for emergency custody, force a divorce, and escape with Justin to a new "perfect" life with Tiffany, leaving me utterly ruined. In my first life, I was blindsided. I fought desperately, screamed, cried, and ultimately lost everything-my son, my home, my reputation. I truly died a broken woman, my soul consumed by an unbearable grief. But somehow, I was back. The crushing grief was gone, replaced by a terrifying calm and an ice-cold resolve. They still believed I was simple, weak. They were about to discover the monstrous mistake they had made.