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Modern Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Reborn To Marry The Untouchable Titan

Reborn To Marry The Untouchable Titan

Chloie spent seven years systematically destroying Adrien Riddle, the untouchable titan of Washington D.C., believing he drove her father to suicide. But when the hostile takeover was complete, she wasn't celebrating. She was tied to a rusted iron chair in an abandoned warehouse. Her fiancé, Clay, and her adoptive sister, Bailey, stood before her, laughing as they revealed the truth. Adrien never touched her family. They had forged the evidence to use her as a Trojan horse, just to steal her thirty percent controlling stake. To break her completely, they dragged Adrien in. He had known about their trap all along, yet he manually disabled his own firewalls, letting Chloie burn his life's work to ashes out of pure devotion. Right in front of her eyes, Clay's mercenaries shattered Adrien's spine with an iron pipe. He didn't make a single sound, just stared at her with suffocating tenderness until his gray eyes lost their light. Then, Clay pressed a Glock to her chest. "You were only useful for putting down a rabid dog like Adrien." He pulled the trigger. As the bullet pierced her heart, Chloie stared at Adrien's lifeless body in the expanding pool of blood. She had spent a decade poisoning the only god who ever watched over her, while treating her true murderers as her salvation. The crushing weight of her guilt hardened into pure, agonizing hatred. If there was a next life, she swore to cross hell to protect him. Opening her eyes again, the scent of blood was gone. She was sitting in a plush penthouse suite at the Waldorf Astoria. Chloie had been reborn to the exact day of her eighteenth birthday gala, seven years ago.
Tipping The Billionaire: His Runaway Lover

Tipping The Billionaire: His Runaway Lover

Alida caught her boyfriend in bed with another woman, only to discover a frat house contract on his nightstand. Her love and submission had been nothing but a fifty-thousand-dollar bet. She extorted the check from him to pay for her dying father's surgery, then went to a club to drink away the brutal betrayal. But her malicious stepsister secretly drugged her drink, planning to sell her to an underground thug to pay off a debt. Burning from the chemical mix and running on pure terror, Alida escaped into a VIP hallway and crashed straight into a wall of solid muscle. Desperate and out of her mind, she slapped the fifty-thousand-dollar check against the handsome stranger's chest. "I'm buying you for the night." She had no idea the man she just bought was Jax Vaughn, the ruthless, untouchable billionaire tyrant of Wall Street. The next morning, Alida fled the penthouse, leaving behind a single crumpled hundred-dollar bill and a humiliating note. "Service fee. Average skills. Like an uncivilized beast." Seven years later, Alida returned to New York, holding the hand of her genius seven-year-old son who possessed the exact same pitch-black eyes as the billionaire. She thought her past was buried forever, safely hidden away from the monster she had insulted. But her father's mounting medical bills forced her to accept a high-paying executive interview at Vaughn Enterprises. In the middle of the grand lobby, she stepped right into a familiar, terrifying chest. Jax Vaughn's iron grip locked onto her wrist, recognizing her scent instantly, his eyes burning with seven years of obsessive, murderous rage. "You."
The Surrogate's Secret: A Mother's Vengeance

The Surrogate's Secret: A Mother's Vengeance

My phone buzzed with the perfectly captured picture: my husband, Andrew, beaming with the surrogate and their newborn, a son I' d paid a fortune to bring into this world. I typed a lie: "He's beautiful, I'm so happy for us." I was a spectator to my own life, my body a continuous failure after six miscarriages, each a tiny ghost in our silent house. Then, the call came: my eight-year-old niece, Madisyn, was in a terrible accident and needed B-negative blood-my rare type. But when I offered to donate, Andrew, his family, and even his wife, panicked, refusing my help. The doctor's chilling whisper shattered my world: "The resemblance is uncanny… Madisyn is your daughter, isn' t she?" My first "miscarriage" wasn't a miscarriage; it was a kidnappingorchestrated by my husband. Andrew confessed, not with remorse, but with monstrous casualness: he' d given away our child to his infertile brother to save their "family line." He even dared to gaslight me, blaming my grief and rage for ruining the "perfect family" he' d built with another woman. When I confronted him again, he shoved me, leaving me burned and abandoned on the floor after Madisyn staged a horrifying attack on the new baby and framed me. My heart, already shattered, turned to ice. Andrew would never believe me; he didn't want to. He had decided long ago who I was-the "unhinged wife"-and nothing I said would change his narrative. Screaming inside, I signed the divorce papers, picked up the pieces of my life, smashed the symbols of our shared past, and called the most ruthless lawyer on the East Coast. This wasn't just a divorce; it was a war. I was getting my daughter back, and I was going to make him pay for every stolen child.
The Unwanted Heiress And Her Silent Tears

The Unwanted Heiress And Her Silent Tears

Abigail was the biological heir to the wealthy Richmond family, finally brought home after sixteen years of living in poverty. But her birth family didn't love her. They were completely obsessed with Debbra, the fake daughter who had been sent away after a DNA test. Her biological brother looked at her faded clothes with unfiltered disgust. He left her standing in the freezing rain, screaming that it was her fault Debbra was gone. Her mother shoved her hard against a wall just for touching a crystal music box. "She is not my daughter! My daughter plays Chopin, not this pathetic hick!" Even at her elite new school, her brother's friends threw her to the marble floor, mocking her as trash. In chemistry class, a boy deliberately knocked over a beaker, splashing corrosive acid onto her wrist. No one helped her. They just ordered her to clean up the mess. Abigail didn't ask to be switched at birth during a chaotic hospital storm. She didn't understand why her mere existence was treated as an unforgivable crime, while the imposter who stole her life was worshipped like a saint. Washing her chemical burns alone in the empty lab, the last shred of her hope for a family completely died. She calmly peeled off her rubber gloves and looked at her pale reflection. She decided to give up on their love and treat them as nothing more than strangers. But just as she chose to become a ghost, a heavy thud echoed in the silent hallway, and a bloody hand slammed violently against the frosted glass of her door.
The Architect of His Ruin

The Architect of His Ruin

My boyfriend Ethan and I broke up a year ago, but I'm still the one he calls in a crisis. I'm his rock, the foundation of the company we built together. After closing a seven-figure deal for him, the celebration landed me in the ER with alcohol poisoning. That's where I overheard him on the phone, telling our finance manager to give the credit, the title, and the public glory for my project to his secretary, Olivia. He said I'd get a bonus check, as if that could pay for my life's work. He then dismissed my past sacrifices, even calling the miscarriage of our child a "blessing in disguise" because a baby would have been a "complication." That night, at a gala, he proposed in a public trap. As he was on one knee, a screen behind us played faked photos painting me as a corporate spy. Then, Olivia "accidentally" spilled a glass of mango juice on me. I have a deathly allergy to mangoes. As I gasped for air, Ethan looked from my very real medical emergency to Olivia, who had chosen that moment to swoon dramatically into his arms. He hesitated. He actually hesitated, choosing to comfort her as I was dying. But a different man saved me. Liam Sterling, Ethan's biggest rival, administered an EpiPen and led me out of the chaos. That night, I sent him a message: "I hold the key to the Henderson project. Every contact, every piece of data. Ethan is about to make a fatal error. Are you interested in a strategic partnership?"