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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
The Wedding He Lost

The Wedding He Lost

For eight years, I played the perfect high-society fiancée to Andrew Lester, a man consumed by guilt, whose emotional distance masked a disturbing fixation on his "niece," Molly. I silently endured his self-imposed celibacy, convinced his aloofness was just his penance. But weeks before our wedding, I found a positive pregnancy test in our bathroom trash. It wasn't mine. Hours later, the man who hadn't touched me in years stormed into my bedroom and his hands closed around my throat. "Where is she?" he whispered, desperate, then chillingly revealed, "She's pregnant, Jennifer. With my child." My heart didn't break; it turned to ice as he choked me while begging for the girl carrying his baby. Then, the ultimate betrayal: thrown into our freezing pool by his guards, I watched him comfort Molly, heard him call me a "shield," right before a sharp, agonizing pain erupted. I looked down to see a dark plume of blood in the water. I was losing my baby. I woke in a bare guest room, branded "dramatic" for bleeding out in his pool. Later, Molly, with a smirk, told me she' d removed my roses for her fake allergies and that Andrew only married me "for show." Moments later, she faked a fall into the pool, shrieking about her baby, and Andrew, without hesitation, slapped me across the face, utterly blind to her deception. The sting on my cheek, the taste of blood in my mouth, and his complete devotion to her lie finally shattered my last illusion. He had made his choice. Now, I would make mine.
The Girl Who Forgot Love

The Girl Who Forgot Love

I woke up disoriented, the harsh hospital lights blinding me. My parents, faces pale and strained, sat by my bedside. They said I' d had a breakdown, a public humiliation at the Spring Fling. My boyfriend, Ethan. He had betrayed me. But as they spoke, a chilling truth settled over me: I remembered the facts, but the feelings were gone. The doctors explained it as dissociative amnesia – specifically, all emotional connection to Ethan had vanished. He visited, demanding I "remember us," utterly confused, even arrogant, when I offered only polite detachment. His parents tried too, bringing mementos of our past. I felt nothing but a quiet void where love, or even anger, should have been. Everyone around me was frantic for the 'old Ava,' heartbroken and distraught. But I wasn't. There was just this calm, unsettling emptiness, like reading a sad story about a character I barely knew. Why was everyone else more upset about my memory loss than I was? Was I broken? Who was I without the girl who'd loved him so fiercely, only to be shattered? Feeling like a disconnected observer in my own life, a fraudulent smile plastered on my face, I knew I couldn't pretend anymore. I needed to find out who Ava Miller was, now. Desperate for answers, I sought professional help. And that' s when destiny, or perhaps just a very small town, intervened. My new psychologist was Liam Walker: my kind, long-lost childhood friend, whose presence felt strangely, comfortingly like home.
The Platinum Card Betrayal

The Platinum Card Betrayal

My son, Sam, practically vibrated with excitement. "Future Leaders Summer Institute, Dad! Can you believe it?" I smiled, a rare, soft expression. I’d made sure of it; a quiet call to the university, a valuable donation – a small price for Sam’s future, far from my company’s shadow. I preferred my quiet life as a rare book appraiser, anyway. The donation was anonymous. A week later, Sam’s face fell. "Dad… they… they gave my spot away." A cold knot tightened in my stomach. The email spoke of "a significant new benefactor" and "Mr. Rick Sterling’s generous contribution" for his son, RJ Sterling. Rick Sterling. I knew that name from my wife, Tiffany’s, obsessive social media. Then, the punch to the gut: "$150,000 processed via a platinum credit card." The last four digits were sickeningly familiar. It was Tiffany’s supplementary card. My money. She’d used my money to buy Sam’s spot for someone else. My own son, crushed because of my wife’s blatant betrayal. A quiet rage, cold and sharp, began to build. This wasn't just about a summer program; it was a theft, a deep personal wound. Dean Holloway, the smarmy director, would be at the welcome reception tonight. He clearly enabled this. I looked at Sam’s devastated face. "Get dressed, Sam. We’re going to that reception." Sam looked confused. "But Dad, I didn’t get in." My voice was calm, but with an edge he’d never heard. I needed to see this. I needed to understand the true depth of Tiffany’s involvement and Rick Sterling’s arrogance. My son’s disappointment was a raw wound. I would make this right.
An Atonement of Love

An Atonement of Love

My world shattered the day Liam Sterling, the man I'd loved since childhood, turned into my fiercest accuser. His father, my beloved mentor, was dead, and Liam, blinded by grief, believed my own innocent father was a criminal, the cause of his despair. He looked at me, not with love, but with chilling hatred. He threw the engagement ring—our symbol of forever—onto the marble floor, its clatter echoing the definitive punctuation mark on our shared history. He cast me out, suffering from bone cancer I hadn't revealed, believing it yet another one of my family's lies. Now homeless and destitute, my father, falsely imprisoned for embezzlement, suffered a heart attack behind bars. Liam, despite my desperate pleas, denied him bail, sealing his fate. Soon after, the brutal news came: my father died in prison. The cruelty escalated. Liam paraded me at a gala, forcing a grotesque performance of the dutiful fiancée, only to publicly destroy a cherished gift—my bronzed ballet slippers—a relic of my mother and my dreams. When I begged him to believe my terminal diagnosis, he scoffed, accusing me of faking illness. Then his assistant, Chloe Davis, fabricated a monstrous lie: a miscarriage, claiming I was responsible. Liam believed her, swearing vengeance on me for killing a child that never existed. How could he be so blind? How could the man who promised to protect me become this cruel stranger, actively destroying my life? I was accused of harassment and threats, my cancer dismissed as an elaborate trick, and finally, condemned to a psychiatric facility. My mother, consumed by grief and shock over my father's death and my arrest, died shortly after. Alone, broken, and dying, I found myself trapped, unable to prove my innocence, questioning if the love we shared was ever real. But deep down, a flicker of defiance remained—a silent promise that the truth, however brutal, would eventually surface.