Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Crazy Heiress and Her Obsessive Prosecutor
Azora, an heiress haunted by disturbing hallucinations after witnessing her boyfriend's murder, finds herself unable to escape the trauma. Neither her father, her childhood best friend, nor her spiteful foster mother can save her from the torment. The only peace she finds is in the arms of Prosecutor Lamech. Despite this, Azora is determined not to rely on a man she has no relationship with and does everything to distance herself from him. Unbeknown to her, Lamech has been watching over her from the moment they first met, never letting her out of his sight./0/61818/coverorgin.jpg?v=274ca787356cf61c73c9c8d7965a3155&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Best Friend Divorced Me When I Carried His Baby
Marrying her best friend was a dream come true for Kelly, but everything truly has a limitation. Pierce is Kelly’s first love, but as his best friend, she knew well there was always another woman deep in his heart. Lexi Gilbert. The woman Pierce could never forget even if he had already been arranged to marry Kelly. *** Kelly finally realized their happy marriage of the last three years was just a beautiful dream when Pierce asked for a divorce just because Lexi returned. She could only be his best friend even if she was carrying his baby. *** Since their friendship had become a cage, Kelly chose to set him free, as well as the miserable herself. But why then, it was Pierce who became the one who refused to move on? To make matters worse, her devil stepbrother also domineeringly stepped in at the same time, asking her to be his. *** Her Prince Charming vs. Her Devil Stepbrother? How could Kelly save her heart in this battle of love and hate?/1/106592/coverorgin.jpg?v=330dc3e5e06c52a4d09264591cf9dc08&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late For My CEO's Regret
I was just another invisible marketing clerk at the Jennings Group, a single mother counting pennies to pay for my daughter’s medical bills. Then the glass doors of the executive elevator opened, and the new CEO walked in. It was Bridger Jennings, the man who had shattered my world five years ago and left me to pick up the pieces alone. He wasn't the boy I once loved; he was a ruthless tycoon who looked through me with a gaze of total, crushing indifference. The torment started immediately. Bridger targeted me in front of the department, cutting the late-night transportation I relied on and mocking my "supportive husband"—a man who didn't even exist. When he spotted a red smudge of paint on my neck, he mistook it for a love bite from a rival. His jealousy turned into a weapon, and he buried me under a mountain of impossible work, sneering that I should let my husband provide for me instead. I stayed up until dawn to finish the task, only to realize someone had sabotaged my files to ensure my termination. My manager threatened to fire me on the spot, and Bridger stood by with a cold smile, waiting for me to crawl and beg for mercy. I couldn't understand why he was so obsessed with destroying the life I had built from the ashes of our breakup. Did he still care enough to hate me, or was he just trying to prove I was nothing more than a smudge on the glass of his empire? Slumping against my desk, I finally found the digital footprint of the person who tampered with my work. Bridger thinks he has me cornered, but he doesn't know I'm the secret artist he's been desperately trying to hire—or that he's the father of the child he's punishing me for. The war has just begun./1/116650/coverorgin.jpg?v=d0b74208a1c0e3366f47f0509db43899&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Married To The Man Behind The Mask
She kissed a stranger to spite her cheating fiancé. Now the stranger has requested her by name. Iris Sullivan is nothing but a bargaining chip to her adoptive parents, who are determined to marry her off to a wealthy heir. At a masquerade ball, she catches her fiancé with another woman and, in a moment of cold rebellion, drags a masked stranger into a reckless kiss. He kisses her back with brutal intensity, sees straight through her bravado, and leaves her humiliated and breathless. The next day, she learns the stranger's possible identity: Camden Kirk, a paralyzed billionaire recluse rumored to destroy anyone who crosses him. The problem? The man on the balcony stood tall and walked. The man in the wheelchair cannot. Iris can't prove the connection, but the scent of winter cedar that clings to Camden is unmistakable-and now he's personally requested her for an interview. Camden Kirk doesn't grant interviews. He's chosen her for something else entirely./1/107241/coverorgin.jpg?v=d1f138a007c48802b1d200eecde507cc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Price Of His Double Life
After seven years, my fiancé Elias and I were a month away from our wedding. I' d just been laid off from my architecture firm, but he promised to take care of me, calling me his queen. He was my rock, my future. Then, a single Instagram post shattered my world: a picture of a man's hand with a bandage exactly like the one Elias had, holding the hand of an influencer bragging about her rich, married "sugar daddy." The more I scrolled, the worse it got. He hadn't just cheated; he had orchestrated my firing, calling it "budget cuts," so his mistress could take my place. He even used the engagement party invitations I helped design for their future. He called me his "plain Jane architect," a boring fiancée he was escaping from. For six months, he had been living a double life, all while planning our wedding and systematically destroying mine. So at our lavish engagement party, when he abandoned me mid-celebration for his mistress's fake emergency, I didn't cry. I took the microphone, canceled the wedding, and played every single screenshot of his betrayal on the ballroom's giant screen for our hundreds of guests to see./1/114379/coverorgin.jpg?v=d79e9d44bb1a2cf7a96f7869085b415d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Spoiling The Unfiltered Goddess With My Wealth
Chelsi was down to her last fourteen dollars. After a humiliating job rejection for being "too low-class," the threat of eviction forced her to try live-streaming. Terrified of her exhausted, tear-stained face, she cranked the AR beauty filter to the max, morphing into a bizarre plastic alien. She was immediately dragged into a forced streaming battle with Kamron, the platform's most arrogant top streamer. Seeing her distorted filter, Kamron sneered, unleashing fifty thousand fans to flood her chat with toxic insults. Kamron set a ruthless penalty for her inevitable loss. "You're going to take a bar of soap, scrub your face completely clean, and shove your bare face right into the camera." Desperate to keep the fifty dollars she had just earned for rent, Chelsi begged for a different punishment, but Kamron coldly refused. With her heart pounding, she walked to the freezing bathroom, her hands shaking as she scrubbed her skin raw, bracing for the cyberbullying. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling utterly humiliated by the cruelty of the internet. Why did she have to be stripped of her dignity just to survive? She clicked off the filter, waiting for the tidal wave of disgust to destroy her. But the insults never came. The high-definition camera revealed a breathtakingly delicate, flawless face that no algorithm could ever replicate. The chat went dead silent, Kamron was so stunned he dropped a ten-thousand-dollar virtual yacht, and a silent war between two mysterious billionaires was about to begin./1/102050/coverorgin.jpg?v=5e53b45ebef0e8c78c73b82d6dca50bd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Echo She Chose To Erase
I was Aegis's top operative, betrayed by my fiancé, Hazen, and the very woman I had rescued and mentored, Bianca. They conspired against me, framing me as unstable and jealous. Hazen, the man I was supposed to marry, chose to believe her calculated lies over my raw pain, even after he caught them together. He pushed me, causing a head injury, and then publicly condemned me when I tried to expose Bianca's manipulation. My own partner, my friends, everyone I had saved and fought alongside, turned against me, siding with the "fragile" victim she pretended to be. Hazen's final betrayal was the coldest. He had me tortured, then left me broken in a cell, all to protect Bianca's fabricated innocence. "You are a liability, Echo," he had said, his eyes devoid of love, "a dangerous, unstable liability." I was left with nothing, my spirit shattered, my entire life a lie. The accusations, the abandonment, the sheer injustice of it all-it was a poison I couldn't live with. So I did the only thing I could. I walked into a clandestine clinic and had them erase it all. Now, I am Evelyn, a quiet bookseller in Vermont. I remember nothing. And today, three years later, a man with haunted eyes just walked into my shop and called me by a name I don't know: "Echo?"/1/102699/coverorgin.jpg?v=9a915c0b918d3e6d3dfb01f39c3b2651&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Fiancé He Severely Underestimated
My fiancé Jax and I built our Las Vegas empire from nothing. After fifteen years, he betrayed me for a "pure" girl named Ember, sacrificing a piece of our empire for her. He told our friends I was "too ruthless," and that he only felt "human" with her. He arrogantly believed I could never leave, that I needed our empire-and him-too much. To prove her victory, Ember found my mother's last keepsake, a small music box, and shattered it at my feet. The man I'd sacrificed everything for saw me as a cold, calculating machine. He thought I was ruthless? He hadn't seen anything yet. He believed I couldn't leave him. He was about to lose everything. I picked up the phone and made a single call to his estranged, powerful family in D.C. "Send him home," I said, my voice ice. "He's all yours."/1/122166/coverorgin.jpg?v=86a5f01b31c19fb19e78dd5cef38c202&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When Her Love Ended, His Obsession Began
The day Hannah discovered Colton was engaged to someone else, the love she'd fought to protect broke inside her. For three years, he had adored her with devotion so fierce it almost felt real-but Hannah had never forgotten the truth: his world stood far above hers, and she was never meant to stay in it. So she ended things first. She cut off his number, left the home they once shared, and tried to rebuild a life without him. But Colton refused to vanish. He kept finding his way back, haunted by the woman he couldn't let go. Then one day, Hannah returned, with a truth that tore his world apart.../0/84530/coverorgin.jpg?v=2f274864a1881b13616ac5b37959cc6d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Legacy, My Fight
The first call came as a familiar comfort, my mentor Professor Anya Sharma' s name on the screen, a stable part of my solitary life, her lab my sanctuary. Then, her voice shattered that peace – a choked whisper, tight with a fear I' d never heard, followed by a man's angry shout, a crash of glass, and dead silence. I rushed to the police, my heart hammering, only to be met by Detective Miller' s dismissive skepticism as he took down details of Anya' s research and the powerful CEO, Damien Vance, pressuring her. Hours later, standing over Anya' s body in the morgue, the official explanation of a botched robbery felt like a cruel joke; the specific, brutal injuries screaming of a deliberate execution, not a random mugging. My grief curdled into a cold, hard rage, a chilling certainty that Damien Vance was behind it, a suspicion Miller coldly brushed aside, reminding me I had no proof against one of the city's most powerful men. Then, the trap sprung: a grainy security photo of me at the crime scene, my fingerprints everywhere, painting me as the prime suspect in the murder of the woman I loved like a mother. My apartment was tossed, not for valuables, but for Anya's encrypted hard drive, her life's work, the dangerous truth she died to protect, now clutched in my trembling hands. Hunted, isolated, and accused, a single, burning thought solidified: If the system wouldn' t deliver justice, I would find it myself, even if it meant stepping into the lion's den. I walked into the charity gala, a ghost in a borrowed dress, offering myself as a pawn to Damien Vance, becoming his personal assistant, willing to sacrifice everything to destroy him from within./0/81610/coverorgin.jpg?v=c0a455e9b49f34289895802df21a7be1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Contract Wife to Global Icon
For three excruciating years, I was Olivia Prescott, the dutiful, silent wife in a cold, pre-arranged marriage, foolishly loving a man who only saw his college sweetheart, Chloe. My unspoken devotion and tireless efforts to manage his life and our opulent home were met with blatant neglect and emotional indifference. The breaking point arrived not with a bang, but a searing lash and a crumpled heirloom: my grandmother' s cherished cashmere shawl, deliberately ruined by Chloe, then callously dismissed by Ethan as "just a piece of cloth." He publicly humiliated me, forcing a humiliating apology for an "accident" that was anything but. That same night, his formidable mother Eleanor, enraged by my perceived defiance, wielded a riding crop, physically assaulting me. While she beat me, her son laughed softly on the phone with his beloved, utterly oblivious to the cruelty unfolding just feet away. How could I have been so blind, so foolishly hopeful, to believe love could blossom in such a barren wasteland of contempt and betrayal? My heart, once foolishly hopeful, turned to stone, burning with a quiet fury that day. With divorce papers signed and a decade of unrequited love finally extinguished, I walked out of the Prescott mansion. I left behind the ghost of a docile wife and stepped into the unknown, determined to rise from the ashes of my shattered life and show them precisely what a disposable woman could achieve./1/114055/coverorgin.jpg?v=a4ef862f763ccca7b133eee06a3c2071&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Ninety-Nine Heartbreaks, One Final Goodbye
The ninety-ninth time Jax Little broke my heart was the last time. We were the golden couple of Northgate High, our future perfectly mapped out for UCLA. But in our senior year, he fell for a new girl, Catalina, and our love story became a sick, exhausting dance of his betrayals and my empty threats to leave. At a graduation party, Catalina "accidentally" pulled me into the pool with her. Jax dove in without a second's hesitation. He swam right past me as I struggled, wrapped his arms around Catalina, and pulled her to safety. As he helped her out to the cheers of his friends, he glanced back at me, my body shivering and my mascara running in black rivers. "Your life isn't my problem anymore," he said, his voice as cold as the water I was drowning in. That night, something inside me finally shattered. I went home, opened my laptop, and clicked the button that confirmed my admission. Not to UCLA with him, but to NYU, an entire country away./0/82259/coverorgin.jpg?v=e4caa42e4051b89495c0abdeff2ac6d4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Quiet Assistant's Roar
For five years, I played a part. I was Ava, the quiet admin assistant. I lived in a Brooklyn walk-up, deeply in love with my charming boyfriend, Ethan Hayes. Our life together felt so real, so perfectly normal. Then, one night, I overheard him. He called me a "minor asset to be divested." A low-risk, low-yield stock, ready to be cut loose. It was for his upcoming merger with Chloe Parker. He was getting married, and I was just his secret. His 'simple' comfort to manage. The crushing blow wasn't just his words, but his fiancé Chloe' s endless DMs. She taunted me with pictures of their engagement ring and private jet "strategy sessions." My heart shattered. Then, during a car crash, his first instinct solidified everything. He shielded an absent Chloe, not the bleeding me beside him. He chose his lie over my life. How could the man who swore he loved me now see me as a disposable asset? Worth less than a lie? How could I have so completely misjudged him? The indignity and calculated cruelty burned through my veins. They thought I was simple. They thought I was weak. But they were about to find out how wrong they were. I returned home, not to a Brooklyn walk-up. I returned to AuraSphere. The multi-billion dollar private equity firm my family owns. And I was coming for them./0/82908/coverorgin.jpg?v=416f0ff39139c7afd777d461d5248611&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Behind the Scoop
My investigative journalism career was at its zenith, poised to expose a sprawling human trafficking network that reached into the city' s highest offices. I had irrefutable proof, years of hard work culminating in this moment, ready to break a story that would shake the city to its core. But then, only days from publishing, my former intern, Jessica Evans, unveiled my investigation with eerie precision, claiming my unique angles and even confidential source details as her own "intuition." Overnight, I was branded incompetent and slow, my decade-long reputation imploded, while she soared as the city' s new journalistic darling. The fallout was brutal: my editor, once my strongest advocate, viewed me with suspicion, and the whispers of a "washed-up" journalist followed me everywhere. The pattern continued; lead after lead I was developing, cases I was quietly researching-like the chilling "Poetic Justice Killer"-Jessica miraculously scooped with impossible, intimate detail I hadn't even fully formed. Then came the deepest cut: Professor Marcus Thorne, my respected Columbia mentor, praised Jessica's "raw talent" while publicly dismissing me as "envious," twisting the knife of my isolation and despair. How could Jessica know my raw, unfettered thoughts, my most private investigative theories, ideas I hadn' t even fully committed to paper? The sheer scale of this inexplicable theft, coupled with my mentor's shocking public betrayal, left me utterly confounded, adrift in a sea of public accusations and professional ruin. But their words, their disbelief, ignited a fierce fire within me; this wasn't mere envy or decline, it was a profound, calculated betrayal, and I would expose how she truly saw into my mind, starting with my "retirement" from the public eye./1/118273/coverorgin.jpg?v=6b9cd38c241ff1b9f2cb67310bdd90bd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shattered Bonds: The Ruthless Heiress Returns
Arlena woke up in a sterile hospital room, exactly one month before the apocalypse would unravel the world. Her grandmother and uncle were looming over her bed, shoving a clipboard into her face. It was the Bone Marrow Donation Consent form for her cousin, Brandi. They had deliberately booked her parents on a cheap European tour, isolating Arlena so they could force her to sign. In her previous life, she had given in. The donation completely crashed her immune system right before the extreme weather and societal collapse hit. While she lay weak and suffering, her family had drained her trust fund and occupied her home. Her aunt had snatched her last loaf of bread with a triumphant sneer, leaving Arlena to freeze to death in a dirty alley. Now, when Arlena rasped out a firm "No," her uncle locked the hospital door and lunged for her throat. "You need to be taught a lesson! Your parents are too soft on you. I'll do it for them!" He roared, ready to take her marrow by brute force. She stared at the monsters she called family. They never cared if the procedure would cripple her. To them, she was nothing but a spare part, a blood bag to be used up and discarded so they could steal her inheritance. But the compliant niece died in the snow. Arlena grabbed a pair of surgical scissors and plunged them straight into her uncle's hand. Tearing the consent form to shreds, she escaped the hospital to unlock her grandfather's hidden pocket dimension. This time, she would build an impenetrable doomsday fortress, and let them rot in the coming hell./0/86477/coverorgin.jpg?v=86fd82534a95c92bfc2d2e0ec844d352&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Stardust Secret
My alarm should have been my wake-up call, but it was Matthew' s frantic Discord messages, desperate for me to play a game of Valorant. He promised good money for a few hours of coaching – a lifeline I desperately needed with my tuition due and my mom' s medical bills piling up. I logged in, ready to carry strangers, but one player stood out: "Nyx," a mysterious, rich gamer who offered me a retainer, making me her exclusive coach. My life flipped overnight as my channel, "Stardust_vlr," exploded online thanks to anonymous, lavish donations from "0x." Then, my mom set me up on a blind coffee date with a "friend" from UCLA. It was Stella, the helpful girl who' d given me directions on my first day. We hit it off, becoming real-life friends, completely unaware of our deep connection in the virtual world. The biggest Twitch charity tournament arrived, and I finally enabled my face-cam, revealing Ethan Scott, the broke freshman. Across campus, Stella watched, realizing the face belonged to the quiet guy she knew, and that Stardust was Ethan. Just as the tournament countdown began, I heard Nyx' s voice in my headset, and the pieces clicked into place. Nyx was Stella. The shock was mutual, paralyzing us both as the biggest game of our lives was about to begin. How could my coach, my anonymous benefactor, and the girl my parents set me up with all be the same person?/0/84206/coverorgin.jpg?v=177c4b40ebfbf7835ef622a02f02fe59&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Unmasking the Viper
My life as a Dallas socialite seemed perfect, dwelling in a grand mansion built with old money and maintained by new. Then, my husband, Ryan Lester, walked through the door with a woman I' d never seen, Sabrina Chavez, announcing she was "staying with us for a while." Her feigned innocence turned sinister as she systematically drugged me, leading to a horrifying assault that was meticulously filmed. Ryan then used that video as his weapon, turning my home into a prison, stripping me of everything, and publicly humiliating me at my father' s charity ball by projecting the assault on giant screens for everyone to see. The world shattered as I collapsed, suffering a devastating miscarriage, left to wonder how my life could be so cruelly dismantled, and who was behind this orchestrated nightmare. But just as despair threatened to consume me, a familiar face from my past, Andrew Scott, stepped into the light, and with him, the promise of truth and a fight for my lost life./1/106593/coverorgin.jpg?v=1a12edcaa0bd51bd81fda0c1d3c289ee&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn Heiress Marries My Ex-Fiancé's Brother
Tonight was supposed to be the night I became the happiest woman in D.C., celebrating my engagement at the legendary Bolton Manor gala. I wore emerald silk and a diamond that cost more than most mansions, convinced that Hank Bolton was my soulmate and the key to my family's future. But behind the heavy oak doors of the guest wing, the dream died. I found my fiancé tangled with another woman, laughing about how I was nothing more than a "clueless cash cow" whose inheritance would fund his run for the Senate. In my first life, I reacted with tears and screams, which only allowed his family to paint me as an unstable lunatic. They stripped me of my dignity, bankrupted the Adams estate, and watched coldly as my brother, Lucas, died in a ditch trying to save me. I ended up gasping for air in a burning building, realizing too late that my perfect engagement was actually my execution. I died in the soot and the shadows, feeling the searing heat of a betrayal that burned worse than the fire. I lost everything because I was too blind to see the monsters hiding behind expensive smiles. But then, I suddenly gasped for air and realized the smoke was gone. I was standing in front of a vanity, the calendar mocking me: October 14th. The night of the gala. I had been given a second chance, and this time, I wasn't going to be the victim. I recorded the betrayal on my phone and walked into the library with a heart made of ice. I didn't just blow up the engagement; I demanded a new groom—Hank’s "invalid" older brother, Dereck, a man the world had written off as a dying recluse. "I'll take him," I told the stunned family. I wanted a husband who couldn't cheat, a puppet who would leave me a wealthy widow within a year. I thought I was choosing a safe, broken man to shield me from my enemies. I didn't know that under his blanket, Dereck was hiding a holster, or that the "dying" man was actually a predator who had been waiting for someone exactly like me to walk into his trap./1/102051/coverorgin.jpg?v=2d0cfeed499f81ff6149153e643f00e2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love Lost, A Life Reclaimed
My world shattered with a piece of paper. A DNA test revealed I wasn't a Daugherty by blood, but an impostor. My husband, Kane, divorced me, and the real heiress, Britt, took my home, my life, and my son. Five years later, I was a waitress drowning in my foster mother's medical debt when they walked into my diner. Kane, Britt, and my son, Cleveland, who now called Britt "Mommy." He looked at me with disgust. "Mommy said you' re not my real mom anymore," he announced. "And you're just a waitress now. Daddy says waitresses are poor." The words were a knife to the heart. Later that night, my foster mother, Jessi, died in the hospital after Britt whispered poison in her ear, leaving me with a cryptic warning about Britt's dark secrets. Britt then offered me a job as a live-in nanny, a chance to watch her live my life up close. It was a cruel, humiliating offer. But I accepted. Because in my old home, I discovered Britt wasn't just cruel-she was poisoning my son and had infected my ex-husband with a disease. This wasn't just about humiliation anymore. It was about revenge./1/102700/coverorgin.jpg?v=2e274acd524427f2de3ce85c950a2e51&imageMogr2/format/webp)
