Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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What Money Couldn\'t Buy
The hospital air was cold, too clean, smelling like death trying to hide. I was running, lungs burning, clutching the $50,000 I'd scraped together-every cent Dad and I had, plus loans and extra shifts-desperate to save my father. He'd helped me raise the money for Izzy' s "crippling debt," a desperate plea from the woman I loved and planned to marry. I believed her, truly. Then the doctor delivered the blow: "Your father, Michael... he passed away an hour ago. He collapsed because he hadn' t been taking his prescribed medication. The expensive ones for his condition." My blood ran cold, the words echoing in the sterile hallway. He did this for Izzy. He killed himself to help my girlfriend. Numb, I found Izzy at her "struggling artist" apartment, her eyes feigning perfect concern. "It's for your debt," I rasped, handing her the thick envelope. Days later, working a catering gig, my father' s cheap cardboard urn tucked under my arm, I overheard her at a lavish party. Izzy, laughing with Liam Astor, her smug "childhood friend." "He actually passed the hardship test, Liam. Impressive, for a line cook." My blood turned to ice. Then Liam' s cruel reply: "The old man croaking was a nice touch. Really sold the desperation." They knew. They knew my father died. My father' s life, his sacrifice, was a game. A test. The love I felt for Izzy, the future I imagined with her, crumbled into ashes, just like the ones I carried. This wasn' t just betrayal; it was a grotesque, sadistic mockery. My selfless father, reduced to a pawn in her twisted elite games, his death a mere footnote in their cruel charade. The world tilted, reeling from the sheer, mind-numbing horror of it all. No. I wouldn't be their punchline. I quit my job, scattered Dad' s ashes, and left. Vanished. But when, years later, she' d desperately beg me to "come clean" and "come home" on national television, her pleas would ring hollow. I had found my peace, far from her toxic world, leaving her to the echoing silence of her monumental lies./1/115370/coverorgin.jpg?v=8d8d35a5a96bfc8ce45e2dc2bdbfd47f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Captive Of The Ruthless Underground Boss
June was an ordinary architect struggling to pay rent, completely estranged from her high-society mother. But one night, she was kidnapped and beaten in an abandoned warehouse by Gage Becker, the city's most ruthless billionaire, who demanded payback for her mother's sins. Gage pointed a high-definition camera at June's battered face and video-called her mother, threatening to release the footage and ruin her upcoming billion-dollar wedding. "I will never throw away a billion-dollar marriage for a useless daughter." Her mother's cold voice echoed through the warehouse before the line went dead. From that moment, Gage systematically destroyed June's life. She was publicly humiliated and forced to hack off her own hair with a cigar cutter. She was blacklisted from every firm in the city, evicted by her landlord, and violently mugged in a freezing New York blizzard. Curled up in an icy tunnel waiting to die, June felt a suffocating despair. She hadn't spoken to her mother in months. Why did she have to endure this hell for a woman who didn't even care if she lived or died? Why was a monster like Gage so obsessed with driving her to the grave? When Gage's armored Maybach pulled up, he stepped into the snow to mock her, waiting for her to finally surrender and beg for his mercy. But the absolute humiliation snapped the last thread of June's sanity. Instead of crying, she lunged forward with feral energy and sank her teeth directly into the devil's flesh./0/83457/coverorgin.jpg?v=8116762f5729faa07acd532ab30e292a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love's Bitter Truth
For ten years, I was the picture of a devoted husband, building a life with Chloe in our comfortable Bellevue home. My life felt stable, successful, exactly what her image-conscious parents approved of for their daughter. Then came the news: Leo, Chloe' s tumultuous musician ex, had died. A drug overdose, labeled suicide. Days later, my wife, my Chloe, drove her car straight off the Deception Pass Bridge. Grief-stricken, clearing out her laptop, I stumbled upon a password-protected blog. "Leo1998." Inside, ten years of her raw thoughts: "I married Ethan today... They just gave me a life sentence with his shadow." Another entry: "I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming... I felt so disgusted afterward I scrubbed my skin raw." My heart, already broken, shattered into a million pieces. The woman I adored had spent a decade despising my every touch, every act of love, pretending I was another man. My entire existence was a lie. The words burned through me: disgust, resentment, pity. My world collapsed beneath the weight of her betrayal. How could my decade of unwavering dedication, my honest love, have been nothing more than a painful charade for her? The sheer, pointless waste of it all. Then, darkness. But instead of an ending, I jolted awake to the smell of stale coffee, in my old college dorm. My phone buzzed: a text from Chloe. The date: September 15, 2014. Ten years in the past. The day of our first official date. This time, I knew the cost of playing her fool. This time, I would write my own story./1/101291/coverorgin.jpg?v=d9bf126d256c945e16b9cc6c4fdac5d7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Simp No More and He Lost It
Everyone knew in her social circle that Verena was free-spirited and outspoken, notorious for frequently changing boyfriends. But no one expected that at a friend's gathering, she would fall head over heels for the introverted and distant physics professor, Lanny. After months of unsuccessful pursuit, Verena felt defeated. "My family has arranged a marriage for me, so I won't bother you anymore," she said. Lanny, usually calm and composed, lost control in an instant. "Don't get married. I promise I'll date you." They were together for two years, during which Verena enjoyed a blissful romance. However, while planning their wedding, she discovered that Lanny's true love was her half-sister! She quietly canceled the wedding and vanished from Lanny's life. Yet, he became frantic, desperately searching for her whereabouts./0/82675/coverorgin.jpg?v=5918f444315f99f6b5f6594a45bfa96b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Political Wife's Secret
I was Sarah-Beth Beaumont, the elegant wife of Charleston' s rising political star, Jack Beaumont Jr. My life seemed picture-perfect, and the news of my pregnancy promised an even brighter future. A Beaumont heir would solidify our legacy, and Jack beamed with pride. But behind the smiles, a chilling truth festered. My sister, Carrie, emerged from the shadows, her eyes cold as she whispered venom into my ear: "He never loved you. You were just a placeholder." Then, the brutal pain, the darkness. They killed me, and my unborn baby, watching me bleed out. My husband stood by, choosing her. The betrayal was absolute, the finality of death a cruel end to my naive devotion. They discarded me like trash, their ambition stained with my blood and the life of our child. There was no escape, no justice, only the agonizing realization of their monstrous deception. How could I have been so blind? So utterly disposable? The horror of that final moment, the searing pain of their betrayal, haunted me even as my life slipped away. What kind of monster plots to extinguish a life, especially an innocent one, for power and prestige? But then, a gasp. My eyes flew open. I was back. Not in my grave, but in my bed, on June 14th – the day disaster began. My stomach was flat, but not empty. This time, I wouldn't be their victim. I was back for one purpose: to make them pay, and to protect my child, no matter the cost./0/44661/coverorgin.jpg?v=bf50553e5753f649b231f3ced17ff36a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love Against All Expectations
Kaylee had high hopes for her future. After spending many years with her adopted family—the Hadleys, she was about to get married to the infamous son of the Stephen family instead of her sister. Elijah—the bridegroom was known to be a treacherous playboy. He was handsome and loaded, but he was far from being husband material. Elijah was the only heir of the Stephens, but he wasn't serious like the heirs from other families. He played around and whiled away time doing everything except contributing to the family's business. His relatives disliked him very much. Forced by his grandfather, Elijah had no choice but to marry Kaylee. The impression Elijah had of his bride was bad from the onset. However, he soon found out that Kaylee wasn't as unpleasant as people claimed. She was such a sweetheart. She had a gorgeous face despite the horrible scar on it. His joy knew no bounds after he found out that she was actually the girl he loved as a teenager. Could this be fate? Or a start of something beautiful? Maybe both! As time went by, Kaylee began to learn about Elijah's secrets. He was much more impressive than people gave him credit for. Why then was he pretending to be a useless heir? What else was he hiding?/0/84396/coverorgin.jpg?v=237aeac23f5a41293f2f3faf0acf047c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Michelin Star, Her Mad Pursuit
My promotion to sous-chef was supposed to be my moment. Finally, validation for years of grinding in Chicago's cutthroat restaurant scene. But then he walked in: Ryan Blakely, Nicole's high school sweetheart, flaunting a vintage Mustang key. "I figured you'd look better in the passenger seat of this than his sensible sedan," he sneered, a direct shot at my hard-earned life. Then Nicole, my girlfriend, took the key and looked at me with pity. "He just doesn't get it. Too serious all the time," she dismissed, right in front of everyone. Later that night, she raged at me for walking out, only to abandon me on the curb when Ryan got a DUI. The next morning, she demanded breakfast, casually calling me "useless." Then, I saw them together, intimate, picking out appliances like a new couple. She handed me her car keys, asking me to drive her car home because "Ryan's giving me a ride." Worst of all, she set me up in a fancy restaurant, baiting a confrontation between me and Ryan. How could the woman I loved humiliate me so publicly, so repeatedly, for another man? Why was everything always about Nicole, even my own success? I picked up a pen and signed the lease release agreement. My choice was clear: embrace betrayal, or walk away and build a life of my own./1/108018/coverorgin.jpg?v=e3941471fc1076b842ba065831373cbf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Enchanting Doctor: Will You Heal This Frozen Heart Of Mine?
An awkward urology exam led Ximena, a brilliant physician, to stumble into Aydan's most guarded weakness-the untouchably wealthy heir's humiliating secret. In public, he was a ruthless tycoon who treated romance like a liability. In private, he was her patient, battling a hidden condition-and she was the only person who could help him. A marriage contract welded their lives together. Before the wedding, he drew a sharp line. "Doctor. Boundaries." Afterward, he begged, "Babe... do you really feel nothing?" Ximena blinked. "This was supposed to be a contract. Why are you acting like it's real now?"/0/89402/coverorgin.jpg?v=072cf5c6daf5c8dae1bd02d08f6cfaa9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Body, Your Empire
The last thing I remember is my fiancé, Ethan, swerving the car. I woke up in a hospital, my head throbbing, to the sound of his voice in the hallway. He was telling his doctor friend to harvest my kidney for his other woman, Chloe. Since I was in a coma, he said, my consent wasn't necessary. When I woke up, my kidney was gone. Ethan claimed it ruptured in the crash. A lie. He then forced me to become Chloe's personal blood bank, donating twice when she needed transfusions. He framed me for sending her death threats, having me paraded out of my apartment in handcuffs for the media. At a charity gala, Chloe whispered that the "herbal supplements" she gave me years ago were to cause my miscarriage. Then she threw herself down a short flight of stairs and screamed that I pushed her. Ethan didn't even ask. He just looked at me with pure hatred and accused me of attacking a pregnant woman. That was the moment the last bit of love I had for him died. I fumbled for my phone and called his biggest rival, Noah Hayes. "Are you still looking for a COO who knows all of Ethan's secrets?" I asked, my voice shaking. "And perhaps... a wife?"/1/115527/coverorgin.jpg?v=86e86420ab04cef088d70c37d51b7089&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Bound To The Monster Who Ruined Me
Ayleen Avery was just a struggling hotel worker trying to survive her shift. But during a sudden blackout, she accidentally stumbled into the pitch-black VIP suite of a ruthless billionaire driven mad by chronic insomnia. Calmed only by her unique natural scent of roses and rain, the terrifying man attacked her from the shadows and forced himself on her. Terrified and broken, Ayleen fled at dawn, unknowingly leaving behind her late mother's antique rose necklace in his bed. Her greedy coworker found the necklace, claimed to be the woman from that night, and was instantly swept into a life of luxury. Meanwhile, Ayleen was blackmailed into a forced marriage with her attacker—Cassius Doyle—to save her adoptive father from prison. Deceived by the stolen necklace, Cassius believed Ayleen was a manipulative spy. He brought the coworker into their home and paraded her around the master bedroom. "In this house, you are lower than the dirt on my shoes." He choked Ayleen, forced her to sleep in a damp storage room, and treated her with violent disgust while pampering the thief. Ayleen was suffocating in absolute despair. She had lost her innocence, her freedom, and her mother's only relic to a vicious liar. She couldn't understand how this all-powerful man could be so completely blind. Why couldn't he recognize the very scent that had cured his agonizing madness? Staring at the dark bruises he had just left on her neck, Ayleen wiped the blood from her lip. She would endure this three-month marriage to secure her family's safety, but once the contract ended, she would expose the truth and tear down the fake savior he cherished so much./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.../1/103325/coverorgin.jpg?v=011ccc32f52966466af2e91ae20178e9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Fatal Mistake, My Sweet Revenge
Trapped 3,000 meters beneath the sea, the submersible I designed was my coffin. The air was turning to poison. But my fiancé, Jeffery, gave our only long-term life support-a CO2 scrubber I invented-to his social media star mistress. "You're strong, Elaina," he said. "You can figure something out." When I tried to use the emergency comms, he broke my wrist and smashed the console. He and his mistress sealed the hatch, leaving me to die alone in the crushing dark. He chose his career over my life. He chose her over me. The man I was supposed to marry would rather I suffocate at the bottom of the ocean than face a failed mission. But as the blackness closed in, I remembered a secret. A tiny, personal emergency pinger I' d built into my glove. With my last bit of strength, I tore the seam with my teeth and slammed my hand against my head. A faint click echoed in the silence. My revenge had just begun./1/105828/coverorgin.jpg?v=c0e4f26e42ee60e38e197fd8e79ad0c9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Blind Bride: No Mercy
I married Clive Harrington, the coldest billionaire in Manhattan, under a strict contract that forbade any emotional burdens. When I needed a high-risk surgery to save my sight, I checked into the clinic alone, hiding the procedure from a husband who saw me as nothing more than a legal asset. I thought I could handle the darkness in silence. But while I was blind and bandaged in my hospital bed, my biological mother called, screaming that if I didn't produce a Harrington heir by the end of the fiscal year, she would cut off the life-saving treatments for my disabled sister. I was crawling on the cold hospital floor, desperately feeling for a cane I had dropped, when I touched a pair of expensive leather shoes. It was Clive. He was supposed to be in London closing a multi-million dollar deal, but there he was, watching his "contract wife" groveling in the dark like a beggar. He didn't walk away in disgust. He carried me to a five-thousand-dollar-a-night VIP suite and sat by my bed, listening in chilling silence as another voicemail from my mother filled the room, calling me a "useless broodmare" who was only worth the trust fund disbursements my marriage secured. I expected him to remind me of Clause 34B or hand me divorce papers now that I was "damaged goods." Instead, I felt his thumb brush a stray tear from my cheek, his presence shifting from a statue of ice into a predatory shield. "I thought I was just currency to you," I whispered, my voice trembling behind the gauze. "Just an investment." Clive didn't answer with words. He picked up his phone and called his head of legal with a single, terrifying command: "Kill the Douglas family’s credit lines. Every debt, every lien—trigger them all. If they want a war, I’ll give them a massacre." As he leaned down to kiss my bandaged forehead, I realized the contract was dead. My husband wasn't protecting an asset anymore; he was hunting the people who had dared to touch what belonged to him./1/115840/coverorgin.jpg?v=73a05f3beedd50cf1a12d48df22ecc2c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Jilted Bride's Billion Dollar Revenge
On our wedding night, celebrating a billion-dollar family merger, my new husband Coleton stepped out of the shower. Suddenly, his phone rang. It was his dead brother's widow, Hana, crying that her five-year-old had a fever. Without hesitation, Coleton shoved me hard into the wall to get out the door. "Are you seriously jealous of a sick five-year-old kid?" he spat. He abandoned me in the bridal suite. I immediately filed for divorce and leaked it to the press. To save the merger and their stock prices, both our families rushed in to force me to back down. My own father raised his hand to slap me for my "petty female jealousy." Coleton's grandfather brutally beat him with a heavy wooden cane right in front of me, trying to use a twisted debt of honor to guilt-trip me into staying. Through a hidden dumbwaiter shaft, I overheard their secret meeting. They were plotting to use Coleton's bloody photos to paint me as a cold-hearted villain to the media, trapping me in the marriage through public shame. My own brother nodded along to this plot just to secure his CEO bonus. Coleton only begged for my forgiveness because he was terrified of losing his trust fund to an illegitimate heir. In their eyes, my dignity was just a cheap commodity with a price tag. But I am a Pennington, raised in a world where trust is a liability. I calmly saved the audio recording of their plot, packed my Hermes suitcase, and emailed the most ruthless divorce litigator in Manhattan./0/80016/coverorgin.jpg?v=348675f092fbc87b045c557f770fb51f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Day My Daughter Lied: I Knew My Marriage Was Over
Dying, physically and emotionally bankrupt, I watched my wife, a celebrated Air Force Major, accept an award. Decades sacrificed for her career and our daughter, Lily, had cost me everything. Katherine praised her unit’s psychologist, Dr. Vance, as her “confidant,” utterly ignoring me. Then Lily’s chilling bedside whisper: “Mom and Dr. Vance are so good together. Maybe let go. So Mom can finally be happy with him.” My heart gave out. Darkness. I jolted awake, young and healthy, reborn 20 years earlier in 1993. A second chance! Yet the betrayal replayed. Katherine planned her Greenland deployment with Vance. Soon, Lily, barely six, clung to Vance, asking, “Can Dr. Vance be my new dad?” My world crumbled. The betrayals escalated. At school, Lily publicly introduced Vance as her “Dad.” The ultimate blow: after Lily fell (due to Vance’s neglect), she lied. “It was Dad’s fault! Dr. Vance saved me!” Katherine raged, “You did this on purpose! You’re a failure!” This was a cold, calculated erasure. My past agony solidified my resolve. “Fine,” I stated, emotionless, “Let Dr. Vance be her father then.” I walked straight to the courthouse and filed for divorce. The doormat they knew was gone. The man who dreamed of piloting jets was finally flying. This time, I'd reclaim *my* life./0/85022/coverorgin.jpg?v=d54ee61e22e334fa0363cf851489a4cd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love, Loss, And A Bitter Recipe
The stage lights seared, the bitterness of defeat choking me. Julian Vance, my mentor, my guide, held Chloe Davies' hand high in victory – my best friend, clutching my trophy, won with my family' s recipes. Cameras zoomed in on her tear-streaked, happy face as I screamed accusations, met only with pity. My desperate attempt at sabotage backfired, solidifying my reputation as a sore loser, my career over, my family' s legacy a joke. Humiliation burned, consuming everything until nothing was left. Then, I blinked. Harsh fluorescent kitchen lights, the metallic scent of stainless steel, the sweet aroma of butter and sugar – I was back. Back to the final patisserie presentation, clutching a piping bag, standing between Chloe and Julian. He inspected our cakes, mine flawless, hers a rich chocolate raspberry torte – the first recipe she stole. "Your technique is flawless, Ava," he' d said, "but it has no soul." Then he' d turned to Chloe, his voice dripping with paternal pride, "This, my dear, has heart. A talent that cannot be taught." Chloe had blushed, claiming it an "old family recipe." A lie. My family' s recipe. He declared her the winner, his prodigy. His proprietary gleam wasn' t just simple favoritism; it was calculated. He never just witnessed her betrayal; he orchestrated it. My ruin was his design, a deliberate elevation of her, a calculated dismissal of me. This time, there would be no screaming. This time, I knew./1/100040/coverorgin.jpg?v=b0203c4cf7801f7f57115606d8bd54ec&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Empire, My Son, My New Love
While I was fighting for my life in the delivery room, my husband was on the front page of every tabloid, caught in a scandalous affair. He never came to see me or our newborn son. Instead, he whisked his actress mistress away to a luxury resort in the Swiss Alps, dismissing his betrayal as a mere "business arrangement." When his mistress brazenly appeared in my home, she taunted me, claiming my husband wished I had died in childbirth. Then, she revealed a paternity test claiming my son wasn't his. My husband believed her. He believed the lies of the woman who secretly snuck into our nursery to pinch and bruise our helpless, sleeping baby. He took her side, shielded her from me, and even tried to take my son away to raise with her. I had lost my parents and my brother, and now I was losing everything else. I was an orphan, a betrayed wife, and they were trying to take the only thing I had left: my child. But they underestimated me. They thought Kane Powell was the most powerful person I knew. They were wrong./1/114276/coverorgin.jpg?v=e4c751ffdb0e81f787d6927379d0345c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Addicted To His Fake Sugar Baby
While packing up her cheating ex-boyfriend's belongings, Giselle found an encrypted black smartphone hidden beneath his old textbooks. Curiosity made her guess the passcode, only to uncover a horrifying secret. Her ex had been using stolen lingerie photos of her beautiful roommate to catfish a man named "Oero" out of $1.5 million. And Oero wasn't just a gullible sugar daddy. He was Dereck Campos, a ruthless Wall Street billionaire known for making his enemies permanently disappear. The phone suddenly buzzed in her hand with a terrifying message. "Don't be late. You know what happens when I'm kept waiting." Giselle's blood ran cold. The lethal trap had snapped shut. If she showed up, Dereck would see she wasn't the blonde in the photos and kill her. If she ignored him, his private security would hunt her down anyway. Her ex had drained the offshore accounts and fled, leaving her as the ultimate scapegoat to face a monster's wrath. She was just a broke engineering student on a full scholarship. She hadn't taken a single cent of that dirty money. Why should she pay with her life for a deadly scam she knew nothing about? But Giselle wasn't going to just curl up and wait to die. Her analytical mind kicked into overdrive. She sent him a voice note faking a severe illness, and deliberately refused his massive cash transfer to play the proud victim. She was going to outsmart the most dangerous predator in New York, one calculated lie at a time./0/31208/coverorgin.jpg?v=f631b526d5d2f138137a7ebc61f6baf3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Lame Husband Is A Mysterious Mogul
"Abandoned by her mother the night she was born, Layla was taken in and raised by her grandmother in the countryside. Her life was peaceful and uneventful until one day, right before she turned twenty, a group of men came to her home and told her about her true identity. It turned out that she was the daughter of the wealthy Reed family, and her parents suddenly wanted to take her back. She thought that they were going to make up for lost time, but to her horror, they only wanted her back for one reason: for her to marry a disabled man instead of Sandra, their other daughter. They even went so far as to use her vulnerable grandmother as a bargaining chip to force her. Clark was the heir of the powerful Smith family, but his family was on the brink of bankruptcy. As if that wasn't enough, thanks to a car accident, the grumpy man was now also wheelchair-bound. Desperate to get out of this plight, he married Layla. However, on their wedding night, Clack and Layla signed an agreement, agreeing to get divorced after two years. Would this marriage really last two years? Would Clark find out that his wife was not a rich pampered princess but a simple country girl? Between her persistent pursuer and her cold husband, who would Layla choose?"/0/71256/coverorgin.jpg?v=9c1984c06e2e4179c9f747bd0f607fcb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
