Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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A Marriage Built on Lies
To save her family's empire, CEO Eliana King, known as the "Ice Queen," entered an arranged marriage with the rebellious artist Garrett Wolf. She saw him as a chaotic variable to be managed, a business deal. She never expected to be a pawn in his game of love. The devastating truth was that her husband was desperately in love with his childhood friend and muse, Serena Vance. Their entire marriage was a sham, a shield to protect Serena from his family's judgment, and a tool to make her jealous. When Eliana tried to divorce him, her own family, who knew the secret all along, had her brutally punished. Later, Garrett publicly forced a kiss on Eliana to provoke his lover, an act that ended with Serena attacking Eliana in a fit of jealous rage. In the hospital, Garrett's only concern was protecting Serena, proving Eliana's pain meant nothing next to his obsession. She was a tool, utterly disposable. This final betrayal ignited a fire in the ice. After a violent retaliation, she cut ties with her past and began celebrating her freedom. But the party came to a dead stop when Garrett appeared, his eyes burning with a rage meant only for her./0/84255/coverorgin.jpg?v=67f44d7e82b007fb82d7bd44c0a7cdd7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Mother's War
My son, Caleb, lived for music. Every strum, every hum, filled our small Rust Belt home with joy. When legendary producer Anthony Lester swooped him off to Nashville, it felt like his dream was finally coming true. Then the music stopped. For two months, all I got were slick, pre-recorded messages and B-roll videos, until a shaky clip revealed a raw, red burn on his hand, and a terrified flicker in his eyes before he yanked it away. I flew to Nashville, only to be branded a crazy mother and turned away from the studio by a condescending assistant. Then, a new music video teaser dropped, supposedly showcasing "authentic art," but it was my son, Caleb, being brutally beaten on camera, his genuine terror dismissed as "method acting." The local sheriff, bought and paid for by the studio, merely smirked, telling me to take the "signing bonus" money and go home. How could this be happening? How could a mother watch her child being tortured and find every door slammed in her face, the world calling his torment "art"? Watching his gaunt face on a live stream, pumped full of drugs, unable to remember the name of his own childhood dog, I knew the system had failed him. But they forgot one thing: I wasn' t just a cleaning lady from a forgotten town. I was the widow of Sergeant David Johns, a Medal of Honor recipient, and the Army does not forget its own./1/115386/coverorgin.jpg?v=10ae828d3374dfb9d66235d928437bbd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Spoiled By The Assassin Family
I drowned in freezing pool water, the mocking laughter of the elite Savage family echoing in my ears. When I opened my eyes, I was an eight-year-old orphan again, right on the day those monsters came to adopt me. Terrified of repeating my hellish past, I ran down the hallway and desperately grabbed the shirt of a random, dumpy IT guy, begging him to take me instead. I thought I had chosen a weak, boring suburban dad to hide behind. But I was completely wrong. My new mom greeted me with a ceramic tactical knife hidden in her apron. My clumsy dad sliced dinner ribs with the terrifying precision of a seasoned hitman. My ten-year-old brother was a dead-eyed sociopath who immediately calculated my bone density. They were a family of lethal underworld monsters, yet they frantically pretended to be a normal, pathetic household just for me./1/119297/coverorgin.jpg?v=ae7a798bc0e0af196cfb6249a4467e3a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Secrets She Died To Protect
My wife, Ava, was dead. I felt nothing but relief. For five years, I had orchestrated her downfall-ruining her family and her reputation-as payback for trapping me in a marriage and tearing me away from the woman I loved. My revenge was complete. Then, a week after she died alone in a park, my investigator called. He told me Ava had been secretly battling a terminal brain tumor for our entire five-year marriage. Suddenly, everything made a horrifying kind of sense. Her constant hospital visits weren't for an affair. The child I accused her of aborting was a pregnancy her dying body couldn't handle. My every act of cruelty had been inflicted on an innocent, dying woman. But why? Why endure my hatred in silence? Why let me believe she was a monster when she was the one suffering? The final piece of the puzzle arrived in a second phone call, revealing the one secret she died to protect. The woman I thought she'd stolen from me, Angella, was never my lover. She was my sister. And I had destroyed my wife for a lie./1/103497/coverorgin.jpg?v=2eba2cfc6b866896b99e5a09d2e314f9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Broken Vows, A Scientist's Revenge
My husband, a powerful tech mogul, stole my sister' s posthumous research award. He gave it to his young protégé. The same woman who killed my sister. He didn't just steal her legacy. He threatened to destroy my lab and my life's work-the cure for the very cancer that took our family-if I didn't publicly endorse his mistress. When I confronted him, he let her destroy my irreplaceable samples. Then, he had my hands, the hands of a neuroscientist, systematically broken to ensure I could never work again. He imprisoned me, forcing me to sign away my entire career and publicly apologize for crimes I didn't commit. He called it "discipline," a lesson I needed to learn. How could the man who swore to protect me become my personal tormentor? But as I lay in a hospital bed, broken and alone, a text message lit up my screen: "Need help? I owe your family a debt." He thought he had erased me. He had only forged me into a weapon./1/116012/coverorgin.jpg?v=14f00f8a7bb0af9c6b65e33061156b3e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Rising From Ashes: My Reincarnated Love
Cora Foster was a brilliant archaeologist, but a jagged burn scar across her face made the world treat her like a contagious monster. During an elite excavation of a Gilded Age crypt, touching an ancient artifact triggered a terrifying memory. She remembered being Seraphina Beaumont, a socialite brutally buried alive by her vain, cruel sister, Isolde. When the team pried open the crypt's pristine mahogany casket, they cheered, believing the mummified corpse inside was Seraphina. But Cora recognized the onyx hairpin and the angular jawline. It was Isolde. The sister who had stolen her life, mocked her agony, and left her to suffocate in the dark. Her colleagues scoffed at her forensic proof, dismissing her as a scarred, delusional liability. Worse, the ruthless billionaire funding the expedition, Julian Montgomery, was the spitting image of Alistair—the man Seraphina had deeply loved. Why was Julian staring at her ruined face with such intense, inexplicable recognition? And why did Isolde take Seraphina's most precious silver ring to the grave? Driven by a century of agonizing grief, Cora secretly pried the tarnished ring from the mummy's stiff, dead fingers and dropped it into her pocket. "What are you looking at, Foster?" Julian's deep voice vibrated inches from her ear, his cold, predatory eyes locked directly onto her half-open pocket./1/106313/coverorgin.jpg?v=b685c9f02376b2d0d33fae3178a69ce1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
BLACK CARD, SOFT HEART.
Leila Jones was never meant to be seen, only used. In a family that worships perfection, she is the invisible daughter. Ignored by her father. Humiliated by her stepmother. Outshined by a sister who smiles sweetly while sharpening knives behind her back. When Leila is framed for a crime she didn't commit and betrayed by the one man she trusted, her life collapses overnight. Cast out. Disgraced. Silenced. But what her enemies don't know is this: A soft heart can still learn to be ruthless. As secrets unravel and power shifts hands, Leila must decide whether to remain the scapegoat she was raised to be, or rewrite her fate with blood, strategy, and a black card that opens doors no apology ever could. Because forgiveness is optional. And revenge is intentional. What kind of book is this? Well black card soft heart is a contemporary power rise revenge story focused on betrayal, elite family dynamics, and a woman's strategic transformation. Romance exist but it didn't save her. POWER did/1/107721/coverorgin.jpg?v=f6f0b22afcd29eb9575341b501ee06bc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Jilted Wife, Billionaire's Daughter Rises
My husband, Dalton, publicly humiliated me for the tenth time, flaunting his pregnant mistress, Justine, at a conference for the company I built. I was trapped, paying for my mother' s endless medical bills. But then Justine took it a step further. She went to my mother' s hospital and cruelly told her everything-all the affairs, all my sacrifices. My mother, in her despair, jumped from the rooftop. At the funeral, Justine crashed the service with a brass band, showering my mother' s casket with confetti. "She's just trying to be thoughtful!" Dalton yelled, shielding her as I lunged forward in a blind rage. He shoved me back, his eyes blazing. "Don't you dare touch her! She's carrying my child!" He raised his hand to strike me, and I braced for the impact, my world completely shattered. But the blow never landed. A chillingly calm, powerful voice cut through the chaos. "I wouldn't advise that, Dalton." My estranged, billionaire father had just arrived./1/108034/coverorgin.jpg?v=f7add1a8e5a6a29def14bb1314f8a9a2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Silent Bride's Billion Dollar Contract
My bank account showed exactly $42.18, and my student loan notifications were flashing red. I lived in a sweltering Queens apartment with my Aunt Lydia, where the air was thick with the smell of stale frying oil and the constant threat of being homeless. Lydia handed me a grainy photo of a man twice my age and told me she had already "sold" me to him. He was a dry cleaner looking for a wife, and in exchange for my hand, he would pay off her credit cards and my debt. If I didn't show up for the date that night, my boxes would be on the curb by midnight. I arrived at the cafe in a state of panic, my selective mutism making it impossible to even breathe. In the crowded room, I accidentally sat at the wrong table. Instead of the man from the photo, I found myself facing Gerhard Holcomb—the cold, terrifyingly handsome billionaire whose family owned the very museum where I worked. He didn't send me away; instead, he studied my trembling hands and offered me a different deal: a two-year contract marriage, a two-million-dollar payout, and a strict clause forbidding any children. I signed the papers and moved into his Park Avenue penthouse, thinking I was finally safe. But when I went back to the old apartment to retrieve the only memento of my dead parents, Lydia lashed out, leaving me bleeding from a head wound. Gerhard’s retaliation was absolute—he had her arrested and her building foreclosed on within hours, claiming he was simply "protecting his assets." As I recovered in his silent, glass-walled home, I saw a call from a famous socialite flash on his phone, and a cold truth settled in my gut. I wasn't just a wife; I was a placeholder, a silent shield used to fend off the women from his past. I looked at the massive pink diamond on my finger and realized the silence I had lived in my whole life was about to become my most expensive prison. I had traded a life of poverty for a high-stakes game of shadows, and now I had to survive the man who claimed to own me./0/89418/coverorgin.jpg?v=858bd025408e2ebb9bf5331f4cfe5985&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Drove Me Away, Now He's Hunting Me Down
My husband, Liam Goldstein, was publicly the perfect man. He donated a kidney to save my life and named the new tower of his corporate headquarters after me. The world saw us as the ultimate power couple, a love story for the ages. But in private, he was cheating on me with an influencer. He arranged a "romantic evening" with private fireworks, only for me to discover it was a birthday party for his mistress, Ava. I overheard him promise her my "Maya's Horizon" necklace, the one he gave me after the transplant. His friends were all in on it, laughing behind my back and calling me "the main course." After a car accident, I found them together at the hospital. She was pregnant with his child. When I lunged at her, he grabbed my wrist and snarled at me to apologize to his pregnant mistress. Then came the final blow. A text from Ava with a picture of the sonogram. "Our baby, Maya." Underneath it, a photo of her wearing my necklace. "He says it looks better on me." On our anniversary, I had his prized rose garden bulldozed. Then I had the divorce papers delivered to his office, along with every single taunting message Ava had ever sent me. By the time he read them, Maya Goldstein was already a ghost./1/101933/coverorgin.jpg?v=ef3ee342e86f0746fbb73a197830f548&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unfortunate Card of Lies
For ten years, I waited for my childhood sweetheart, Adonis, to marry me. But every year, our future was delayed by a ridiculous family ritual where he had to draw a "Fortunate" tarot card. For three years, he drew the "Unfortunate" card, enduring brutal penance that left him scarred and broken. I believed it was fate. Then, on the fourth year, I saw him draw the Fortunate card. My heart soared. We were finally free. But in a swift, practiced move, he swapped it for an Unfortunate one, choosing more suffering. I was frozen in shock. Later, I overheard him confess to his cousin. He' d been swapping the cards for four years. He couldn't marry me yet because of his assistant, Ariel. She' d threatened to do something drastic if he left her. He said he owed her. My world shattered. Every lash he took, every moment of pain I shared, was a lie. A charade performed for another woman. He had chosen his guilt for her over his love for me. He even accused me of monstrous cruelty based on her lies, shouting, "I can't believe I wasted ten years on someone so vindictive. Apologize to Ariel. Now." That was the moment I knew the man I loved was gone. So, I left. I flew to Hong Kong and married another man. But just as I found my new beginning, Adonis burst in, his eyes wild with regret, begging me to come back. And right behind him was Ariel, her face twisted with madness, a gleaming knife in her hand./1/113353/coverorgin.jpg?v=96e6802ae444cce78c3c1eaab3ad747a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Fake Heiress Cancels Her Engagement
I woke up in a luxurious private medical room, only to be hit with a crushing realization. I had transmigrated into a novel as the fake heiress of the McConnell family, destined to be the ultimate villain. In the original plot, I viciously bullied the real daughter who grew up in a trailer park, and tortured my adopted brother by using him as a living blood bank. When the truth came out, my fiancé abandoned me, my family threw me away, and the brother I tormented eventually left me to bleed to death in a dark alley. Right now, the timeline had just reached the deadly turning point. The real heiress had been brought home, wearing faded rags and mercilessly mocked by our relatives. My vicious cousin had secretly handed me corrosive acid disguised as expensive skincare, hoping I would melt my own face off. Worse, an anonymously leaked audio of me admitting my fake identity had just gone viral, causing a massive corporate scandal. My elite fiancé immediately marched into the penthouse with his lawyers, throwing the cancellation documents on the glass table. "The Vance family does not merge assets with a fraud. We don't marry fake bloodlines." Everyone waited for me to break down, beg, and viciously attack the real daughter like a hysterical thief clinging to a stolen life. They thought I would willingly walk right back into my predetermined, gruesome death. Instead, I calmly pulled off the five-carat diamond ring, dropped it on the table, and turned to expose the cousin's trap to protect the real heiress. This time, I am rewriting the script./1/101151/coverorgin.jpg?v=6d51f267d40aa118fdcfa53f1bd1943d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted Mistress Becomes The Rival's Queen
The moment Damien shoved me into a waiter's tray to catch his brother's widow, I knew I had lost. For eight years, I was his sanctuary. But Vivian was carrying the "Family Heir," and that made her a saint. He didn't just catch her; he moved her into the Master Suite—the room he had promised to me—while I was relegated to the guest wing like a servant. When Vivian whispered the truth to me with a smirk—that her late husband was sterile and she had drugged Damien to fake the timeline—I rushed to tell him. "She's lying about the baby, Damien! Aaron was sterile!" But he didn't believe me. "Enough of your jealousy, Estelle," he roared, shielding her. "You will respect the mother of my legacy." To prove my submission, he forced me to take her wedding dress shopping. When a heavy iron rack tipped over in the boutique, Damien moved with inhuman speed. He dove to protect Vivian, wrapping her in a safe cocoon. He left me standing there. The metal crashed down, crushing my ribs and pinning me to the floor. As I gasped for air, tasting blood, I watched him carry her out without looking back once. I woke up in the hospital to the sound of him comforting her in the next room. He hadn't even asked if I survived. That night, I didn't cry. I ripped the IV from my arm, shredded every photo of us in the penthouse, and boarded a plane to a neutral territory where the Don's power meant nothing. By the time he found the engagement ring I left in the trash, I was already gone./1/105062/coverorgin.jpg?v=2f700df43d3b017203159b0511d9fbe6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Secret Heir In Her Arms
I returned to New York with a broken suitcase and exactly three hundred and forty-two dollars in my bank account. My mother was dying in a public hospital, and the only treatment that could save her required a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit I didn't have. While I was pleading with the billing department, I ran into my billionaire ex, Gannon Sharpe, and his cruel fiancée, Aleta. Without a second thought, Aleta slapped me so hard my lip split, kicking my belongings across the floor and calling me a gold-digging thief in front of the entire staff. I looked at Gannon, the man I once loved more than my own life, hoping for a shred of mercy. Instead, he looked at me with pure revulsion and told me I belonged in the gutter. He believed the lies his grandfather told him—that I had abandoned him after his car crash and vanished with millions. He had no idea I was the one who actually pulled him from that burning wreckage, or that I was currently skipping meals in a moldy motel just so our secret son could have formula. He called me "disgusting" and walked away, leaving me to rot. I wanted to scream that I was the genius scientist who wrote his company’s core algorithms, and that the child he didn’t know existed was shivering with a fever only blocks away. But the ironclad NDA I signed to save my family kept me silent, even as Gannon looked at me like I was something he’d stepped in. Desperate for health insurance to save my mother and son, I took a bottom-tier data entry job in the basement of Gannon’s own tower, intending to stay invisible. But when a billion-dollar error threatened to bankrupt his empire, I couldn't stop myself from hacking the system to fix the code. Now, the man who hates me is standing in my cubicle, demanding to know how a "dropout" knows his most guarded secrets. Gannon is finally digging into my past, and he’s about to find out exactly what—and who—I’ve been hiding for the last four years./0/82848/coverorgin.jpg?v=5f07724325191f1794552c8a0aed02d2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Their Secret, His Silence
My wife, Isabella, spoon-fed me, helped me dress, and assured everyone my hands were useless after the accident. They didn't know I' d secretly regained full strength weeks ago, my dexterity sharper than ever. And they certainly didn' t know I was stone-cold awake that night as Isabella brought Liam into our bed, whispering about my 'dependence' and 'broken' state. Then, on her unlocked phone, the messages flashed: "Our baby, our secret. Ethan will never know. He' s too broken." My breath caught, but my practiced smile remained mildly confused as she handed me back my phone, reminding me not to wait up as she left for "girls' night." The humiliation of being a cuckolded, disabled husband burned, but it was quickly replaced by a cold, meticulous resolve. They thought me broken, a helpless burden? Good. Let them continue to underestimate the architect who was meticulously designing his escape, piece by agonizing piece. The first step was dropping the pretense, and then, slowly, deliberately, dropping the bomb on their perfect betrayal./0/82379/coverorgin.jpg?v=99b357238a3d6eb8563c738cf7b9ec48&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Stepsister's Dark Gift
I was Olivia Miller, the quiet, studious pre-med student from a prominent family. My stepsister, Izzy, was the dazzling socialite, everyone' s favorite, effortlessly getting what she wanted. Then, the unexplained began. Dark bruises marred my skin, then alarming hickeys appeared on my neck, though I hadn' t been with anyone. My family's judgment quickly fell, and Izzy, with sugary sweetness, presented me with an antique silver locket-a "family heirloom for protection." New marks appeared the very next day. The humiliation peaked at a prestigious university conference. Mid-speech, I collapsed at the podium, bleeding inexplicably, as gasps rippled through the auditorium. Doctors found no cause, yet whispers of a "wild lifestyle" and "secret abortion" turned me from star student into campus scandal. My fiancé, Ethan, suggested our engagement be "transferred" to Izzy, citing my "embarrassing behavior." My appearance-obsessed parents believed every lie. How could these things happen? Why did Izzy always look so perfect, radiating health, while my body and reputation disintegrated under the weight of these bizarre, unexplainable marks? The injustice and confusion were unbearable, trapping me. But then, the world reset. I was back at the podium, exact same moment, the same horrific pain beginning. As my vision blurred, I saw Izzy' s face in the crowd: a sliver of dark satisfaction beneath her practiced concern. This time, I wouldn't just collapse. I understood the curse. Izzy had just handed me the weapon to turn it back on her./1/103498/coverorgin.jpg?v=4b4dbcbefa522cf22d61634941a00903&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Prophecy, Her Shattered Spirit
Four miscarriages had shattered my spirit, but it was my husband Blake' s silence that truly killed me. I was supposed to be his destined partner, the vessel for the twin sons who would secure his family' s real estate empire, all according to his spiritual guru. Then I discovered the truth at a secret celebration. There stood Blake, beaming beside his high school sweetheart, Chyna, who held two newborn sons. "The prophecy is fulfilled!" the guru declared. My world imploded. Blake called me a "placeholder," admitting he' d orchestrated my miscarriages because those weren't the "destined" children. He moved Chyna into our home, gave her sons the names I had chosen for mine, and even destroyed my mother's rose garden, claiming its "negative energy" was making the babies sick. He then forced me into a brutal "purification" ritual that left me scarred and broken, all to "cleanse" the house for his new family. My agony was just an inconvenient part of his twisted plan. I escaped and built a new life, finding love with a kind man and his son. But just as I accepted his proposal, Blake found me, his eyes blazing with obsession. "You're mine, Amelia," he growled. "And you will return with me, or I will make sure you regret it!"/0/77686/coverorgin.jpg?v=4598cf76ea4ab53bef338c8e9e8ad116&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Marry The Ceo Politician
"Which politician will marry a woman who went to prison for murder?" Vivian Shelton just got out of prison and she received the shock of her life – she found her boyfriend in bed with someone else. Her devastation made her end up in the bed of an unknown man but life wasn't about to treat her right. Kurt Nelson is a 47 years old billionaire who has his chains of investments all over New York. The moment he goes into politics, he needs just one thing to win against his opponent. A bride. But he is old, rich and good looking. After his past relationships, Aiden didn't just want any woman, he wants a classy woman that meets his own standard. But having a woman came at a great cost Aiden didn't even have the money to pay for./1/126651/coverorgin.jpg?v=0b9a1c27fad002d5e0c0134ac83a23f7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Hunted By My Secret Billionaire Employer
I finally terminated my tutoring contract with Donovan Carlisle, the wealthy hockey captain I had never met. I even waived a six-figure settlement just to get my freedom back. To celebrate my new life, I went to a popular campus bar, only to be cornered by a group of aggressive, drunk football players. Desperate and trapped, I spotted a dangerous-looking stranger in a dim corner. I ran over, threw my arms around his neck, and kissed him hard to use him as a shield. Instead of pushing me away, the stranger played along. His icy blue eyes mocked me as he whispered a command to keep going. In my absolute panic to make the act convincing, I fumbled with his shirt buttons. When the threat finally left, I shoved him away. Overwhelmed with shame, I slapped fifty crumpled dollars on the table for his "trouble" and ran out into the cold night like a fugitive. I hid in my dorm room, terrified and humiliated. I couldn't understand why he chose to play along just to watch my pathetic show. I thought I had just offended a random, arrogant guy. But then my best friend dropped a bomb on me. "That guy you kissed? That's Donovan Carlisle." My blood ran cold. The stranger I had just forced myself on and insulted with cheap cash was the very employer I dumped this morning. And worst of all, he had just ordered his team to turn the entire university upside down to hunt me down./1/101934/coverorgin.jpg?v=ef5629bbea4319519275b651408ca1f6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
