Romance Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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My Best Friend, My Wife, My Betrayal
As an Austin IT guy, I bore the crushing guilt of my supposed infertility, convinced I was failing my influencer wife, Jess, and her dream of a family. Our marriage had grown cold, dominated by her career, and the weight of my perceived inadequacy was immense. But then, I stumbled upon a secret: birth control pills hidden in Jess's bag. My world tilted, the carefully constructed narrative of our life starting to crack. Jess tearfully confessed to using them for career reasons, skillfully manipulating my guilt over my "condition" documented by an acquaintance nurse, Sarah. I reluctantly accepted, but a chilling suspicion had taken root. Soon after, I found items belonging to my best friend, David, tucked away in Jess' s room - strange for a place she claimed was exclusively hers. The truth burst open when my hidden camera caught them: Jess and David, intimately involved, proving my betrayal was deeper than I imagined. Then, Sarah, consumed by guilt, confessed it all: Jess' s infertility report was fake, there was no miscarriage, and she' d had an abortion long before, fearing it would derail her career. My entire life had been built on their elaborate lies. The betrayal escalated from emotional manipulation to outright attempted murder. Jess drugged me and tried to drown me in a staged car accident, only for Sarah to miraculously save me. Witnessing Jess and David celebrating my "death" on my phone ignited a pure, incandescent rage. Every ounce of my fabricated guilt vanished, replaced by an urgent need for justice. My innocent confusion was gone. I knew now: I wouldn't be their victim any longer. This IT guy was about to turn the tables and expose every single one of their heinous secrets./0/83804/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106203058&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Broken Heart to Billboard Queen
My wedding day was supposed to be the moment my love story with Liam played out on giant screens for all of Nashville to see. Instead, those screens showed something very different: my fiancé, Liam, shamelessly hooking up with my own cousin, Savannah, at his bachelor party. The chapel descended into shocked silence. Liam grabbed my arm, whispering denials, while Savannah sat sobbing in the front row, a pathetic mess. But the hickeys on their necks told the whole brutal truth. I calmly walked to the microphone, called off the wedding, and left them to face the circus they created. He tried to play the remorseful fiancé, showing up with flowers I was allergic to and Savannah's favorite BBQ, not mine. He stalked me, pleading for "one more chance," even using me as a bet to impress Savannah. Every interaction twisted the knife, confirming years of quiet betrayals I'd ignored. Why did I believe his lies for so long? Why did I allow myself to be a third wheel at my own anniversary dinner, or cook for him only to be met with his and Savannah's mockery? The humiliation was suffocating, the anger a fire in my gut. But then, a new thought ignited within me. I picked up my guitar not to write a sad song, but a war declaration. This wasn't heartbreak; it was a reckoning. And I was just getting started./0/82709/coverorgin.jpg?v=1062e9bcd85f9454c921899e6ab4faad&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Decade She Reclaimed
The last thing I remembered was the screech of tires, followed by a blinding flash that swallowed the world. Ethan was at the wheel, his voice sharp with accusations about some film festival rejection he insisted was my fault. Then, an inexplicable void. I awoke to the familiar, comforting scent of cheap coffee and aged textbooks in my old college dorm room. My head throbbed, but it was the calendar on the wall that delivered the true shock: it was ten years ago. A full decade of my life, a lifetime of ambition, had been erased, yet the bitter aftermath lingered. I remembered postponing my prestigious architecture scholarship for him, endlessly pouring my youth into his perpetually failing film career. I recalled working two menial jobs, typing his screenplays, networking tirelessly on his behalf, all while my own dreams gathered dust. He consumed my time, my energy, my money, only to resent me when his "art" didn't instantly launch him to stardom. "You held me back," he'd always complained, "your practicality smothered my genius." The sheer unfairness of it all, the memory of a wasted decade, ignited a cold fury in my gut. How could I have been so utterly blind, so utterly foolish? But this time, the narrative would be mine. This time, there would be no sacrifices, no compromises, especially not for him. I packed a small bag with my architecture notes and left a single, decisive message on his cluttered desk: "Ethan, I'm done. Don't look for me." No explanation, no argument-just a quiet, resolute walk into my real future./0/87715/coverorgin.jpg?v=affef35840b63a76d0e0dfdaec16dfd2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Dark Twists
I still didn't understand what he said. I couldn't think of anything I had done to hurt him. Maybe I was really clueless about what was going on in his life. I wiped the tears off my face with my sleeve. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled." He said looking away. I sniffed. " So....was ...was..what we had...was our marriage...fake? " He sighed and remained silent. At that moment, I realized that the man I had loved and spent 10 years of my life with not only betrayed me by taking another wife but tried to take everything from me. He came into my life for revenge; he married me for revenge, and he loved me for revenge. Revenge for something I knew nothing about. On top of all that, we even had children. My Father was on his side, and he made me choose ...Divorce my husband and lose the right to being his only heir and lose custody over my children or get used to the fact that my husband married another woman and lived the rest of my life in luxury and misery. I can only hope that someone or something saves me from this hell hole./0/95224/coverorgin.jpg?v=dc1300a6bace46707a6d0e2d848941ba&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Two Sons, A Mother's Divided Heart
For five years, I built a new life from the ashes of my old one. I was a mother to Cale, the kindest boy in the world, and the woman who was destroyed by Congressman Hampton Garner was just a ghost. Then a schoolyard fight brought it all crashing down. The boy Cale fought was Ignatius-my son, the one Hampton stole from me at birth. To protect Cale, I knelt on the principal's office floor and begged for his forgiveness, just as Hampton himself walked through the door. He warned me to stay away, but then used our sick son to drag me back into his world, threatening Cale's life to ensure my compliance. I was trapped between the son I raised and the one I was forced to abandon, a pawn in their cruel games all over again. Then Hampton's brother appeared, offering me a chance for revenge, but only if I played his game and put my family in the crossfire. I was a pawn once. Never again./0/39376/coverorgin.jpg?v=efdcf1ad67a714be52bc6eb1aa61e5f8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
One day after tomorrow
A new time arises after humanity destroyed the planet with its ambitions. In the new age there is neither rich nor poor, but only groups of people trying to survive. Carolina, who in the past was a tolerant and arrogant woman, finds herself in need of being part of a group to survive, being rescued in the middle of the great war by Vagner and taken to a house in the middle of a sinister forest, living there she discovers that the race human is not the only one existing in the place and its beauty draws the attention of the leader of those beings. But what would they be, since they weren't human, what would be his desire with Carolina?/0/84117/coverorgin.jpg?v=c65ccf4e91eab28c59280c2825bee77c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When The Pawn Strikes Back
My wedding day was supposed to be perfect, a celebration with my fiancé, Andrew, the "golden boy" lawyer, and my best friend, Molly, by my side. But then, during a heartfelt song at Andrew's bachelor party, I watched them both break down, tears streaming, clinging to each other in a way that felt chillingly intimate. Stepping out for air, I overheard Andrew whisper to Molly, "I'll be wearing this at the wedding... as if I'm finally marrying you," confirming a devastating truth: their bond was ancient, predating me for years. My entire two-year relationship, my engagement, was a meticulously crafted lie, a desperate ploy for Andrew to stay close to the woman he truly loved-my best friend. How could I have been so blind? So utterly used? Every promise, every moment, a cruel performance. The woman he pursued, the woman he proposed to, was merely a prop in his tragic love story with someone else. That night, lying next to the man who built his world on my shattered trust, I made a promise to myself: if I was just a pawn in their twisted game, I would become the queen of their downfall./0/80519/coverorgin.jpg?v=1a5230e18a38ef87e0bac6796ac9454f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Betrayal, Her Billion-Dollar Comeback
I married Mark Harrington, an ordinary architect, giving up my entire past, my family, and even my name, for a love I believed was true. Then, his actress “one true north” reappeared, dramatically pregnant on a penthouse ledge, and Mark publicly claimed *her* baby as his. He didn't stop there; he ordered me to lie, to tell the world I was the unfaithful wife, and then, he demanded I abort *our* own child. I refused, but the headlines screamed I was the cheat, and his mother, a woman who despised me, locked me away in a sweltering shack until I lost everything—including the child I secretly carried. How could the man I loved, the one I sacrificed everything for, subject me to such unimaginable public humiliation, betrayal, and tragic loss? They thought I was just a discarded wife, a nameless fool easily dismissed. They were gravely mistaken. It was time for the world to meet Emily Sterling, the daughter of a powerful media empire, and she was coming for them all./0/22168/coverorgin.jpg?v=7f9568fff0d2310fa5dcbd84e968e4a8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Bet Made Her Mine
A love triangle between a group of friends and an outcast fearless lady, whereby one loves another while the another love another. As a result of a accidental bet made by one of the group (G4) members, Alexander was determined to make Tara fall in love with him so that he can have her then dispose her. But what happens when the fearless Tara made the mafia son Alexander, to fall in love with her instead. Unfortunately for them, few members of the group are not happy about their relationship so Alexander and Tara ends up facing trolls that tends to break their relationship./0/86933/coverorgin.jpg?v=0cbe708923fbda177b860004fd913bf7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Pregnant Mistress, Broken Wife
My husband, Mark, was in the shower when a message from an unknown number buzzed, "Your husband says I'm way more exciting than you, his dead fish, and now I'm pregnant with his child. Who do you think he'll choose?" It was Chloe Miller, Mark' s assistant, the one I' d personally recommended. My breath caught as a video downloaded-Mark, wild and untamed, saying something I couldn't hear over the pounding in my ears. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the shower. Humiliation washed over me, and my decade-long world crumbled. I found a drafted divorce agreement in Mark' s desk drawer. He had been planning this. Then Chloe sent more photos-Mark kissing her in a honeymoon suite in Iceland, taunting me with, "How long has it been since he touched you, old hag?" Every image was a fresh stab of pain. At a charity gala, Chloe, visibly pregnant, clung to Mark. He whispered to her, showing genuine worry. He then bought her a diamond necklace right after buying me a spa voucher. Later, his phone lit up with a message from her, "Is the old hag mad? Don' t worry about her. Come back to me. The baby and I need you." He typed back instantly, still holding me, pretending to comfort me. How could he feign concern for me while being so blatantly connected to her? How could he lie so effortlessly, acting the part of a loving husband while planning to discard me and our entire life? The hypocrisy was suffocating, the cruelty breathtaking. I looked at his smiling, deceitful face, and felt nothing but a vast, empty wasteland where my love for him used to be. My heart, once a steady flame, was extinguished. Now, all that was left were the ashes, and I was ready to become the storm./0/89436/coverorgin.jpg?v=d554fa3d1c9c11303d5e9ccaf4b0cd1d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Ashes To His Embrace
The cold barrel of a gun pressed against my head. I had one last call to save my life, and I chose her: my Issy. But the woman who answered was a stranger. When I told her they were going to kill me, that her cousin Jordan had set me up, she was impatient. "I have no time for this," she said, her voice like ice. "Jordan and I are finalizing our engagement party invitations." Engaged. To the very man who wanted me dead. I pleaded with her, reminding her of our life together, of the memory loss from the treatment her family forced on her. "I don't have amnesia," she snapped. "I remember everything that matters. You're a mechanic from Ohio. I'm an heiress. We live in different worlds." She told me she loved Jordan, that he was her equal and I was nothing. The click of the phone hanging up was louder than the gun cocking behind me. I wasn't afraid of dying anymore. The woman I loved had already killed me. Just as I closed my eyes, the warehouse doors burst open. A dozen figures in black suits disarmed my captors in seconds. A tall woman in a power suit stepped out of the light. She offered me a business proposal: a marriage contract. In exchange for my signature, she would provide protection, resources, and a complete escape. It was my only way out./0/75826/coverorgin.jpg?v=577f3c30b5c194d3127a7068a5bf8a09&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My super sexy roommate
Keagan is the definition of bad boy. College man with a body that could make even God moan and an attitude to put the devil to shame. He walked campus halls like he owned them-tattoos inked across golden skin, smirk cocked like a loaded gun, and eyes that dared anyone to look away first. Between classes and drinking parties, sex and boys, Keagan had it all. He didn't chase love-he devoured it in the dark, left it breathless, and moved on before morning. Until Jamison. Small, skinny, anti-social. With glasses too big for his face and sweaters that hung off his shoulders like afterthoughts, Jamison barely existed in Keagan's world. Quiet, forgettable... or so everyone thought. But there was something in the way Jamison looked at Keagan-like he saw straight through the leather and lust. Like he wasn't afraid. Keagan should've ignored him. Should've kept walking. But something about that awkward little ghost of a boy stopped him cold. Curiosity, maybe. Hunger, definitely. Because suddenly, Keagan wanted more than a body to ruin-he wanted to see if someone like Jamison could handle the heat. The question wasn't if Keagan would break him. The question was... would Jamison beg for it?/0/80832/coverorgin.jpg?v=210f005a6dd98042f84be1d6801494a6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Reckoning, Her Reign
The heavy oak door of San Francisco City Hall felt cold under my fingers. I was waiting for Ethan. We were supposed to get our marriage license today. My phone buzzed. A message from Ethan: "Running late. Emergency at the hospital." Typical. Dr. Ethan Miller, the respected neurosurgeon, always had an emergency. But then, a new post from Chloe Davis, his research assistant, popped up. A photo: her, in our master suite, Ethan's arm around her. Another: a sonogram, tiny and gray, with a heart emoji. The caption read: "Future Dr. Miller coming soon! #blessed #surprise." My breath caught. Our master suite. The one I decorated. He didn't just abandon me at City Hall. He moved her into our home. My phone vibrated again. A long message from Ethan: "Ava, I can explain. It was a mistake... She's young, her research career is just starting... You've always wanted kids, right? She can go abroad... You can raise it. It'll be our baby." Rage, cold and sharp, flooded me. He wanted me to raise his mistress's child. I, Ava Chen, Investment Director at Chen Corp, from a family that built a tech and real estate empire in this city, was no fool. I dialed a number I knew by heart. Liam Walker answered on the second ring, airport noise in the background. "Ava? Everything okay?" "Marriage license," I said, my voice steady. "City Hall. Now. You in?" He'd been in love with me for eight years. "Liam," I said, "Are you in?" Another pause, shorter this time. "Give me an hour. Don't move." He hung up. My story was just beginning./0/29990/coverorgin.jpg?v=98da0674b53a75d1c385f26fd10bd64e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
One Night, Two Babies
Five years ago, the Powell family fell into ruin. Madeline gave birth to twin boys; she left one to the child's father and took the other away. Years passed. Madeline came back as the Internet's reigning queen of public opinion. However, somebody else caught wind of her return. The man pinched her by the chin and sneered coldly, "Since you're dying to shoot something, how about we film something together?" Madeline's eyes widened and her throat went dry. The following day, she saw a little boy who looked exactly like her son inside the man's house. Madeline couldn't help but throw her arms around the boy. She even kissed the boy's plump cheek. Surprisingly, the boy was not happy. He put on a solemn expression and scolded her, "Behave yourself!" Madeline was peeved. How could that man have made her boy as unlovable as he was？/0/79737/coverorgin.jpg?v=99d17e43181ac55ea16d60112d93fa9f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Fiance to Fury: The Gala Betrayal
My Napa estate glowed under the California sun. The Aura Foundation gala was meant to be my legacy, a chance to pour my tech success into something truly meaningful. My fiancé, Brandon Maxwell, was the charming, supportive partner by my side, or so I thought. Then the encrypted email arrived, a grainy photo of Brandon with another woman, Cassandra Rourke, a notorious PR shark. The caption chilled me to the bone: "He's not who you think." My heart hammered, a cold dread spreading through me like poison. This couldn't be real; Brandon loved me, didn't he? But then I remembered the hushed calls, the gifts bought with my cards, the subtle isolation from friends. I overheard him at a pre-gala dinner, his voice low and conspiratorial, calling me "clueless" and this gala "a goldmine." He laughed about how I trusted him completely, how he'd urged me to hire Cassandra's firm. Devastation hit me like a physical blow. My world shattered when I later found their vile texts and photos on his iPad, mocking my naivete. "Evie's so naive, thinks this gala is about charity. It's about us, baby." Even as I bled from a shattered decanter, he worried about the cost, not my injury. He gaslighted me, telling me he loved me, yet defended his mistress publicly when she attacked me. He watched me walk away, believing I was broken, that he had won. I was branded the unstable, jealous woman, while he and his mistress paraded their "love." Whispers followed me, painting me as a "psycho" ruining her own event. I felt a profound shift, the naivete burning away, replaced by a cold fire. I was no longer the victim, but the architect of my own ending. The gala would indeed be unforgettable, but not in the way they imagined./0/81145/coverorgin.jpg?v=842564f0eca43c0757fe91842c5c7b3a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Afterthought Boyfriend
The pen hovered, ready to sign the lease for our new apartment, signaling a huge step forward after seven years with Chloe. This was supposed to be it, our future, a real home we'd finally share. Then, her phone buzzed for the third time in minutes, betraying the familiar source of chaos: Liam. "He needs me," she whispered, already pulling away, leaving me stranded with two unsigned leases and a bewildered agent. My heart sank when I scrolled social media to find Liam's smug selfie with Chloe, her arm around him, captioned "My angel, always there." Her follow-up text wasn't "Are you okay?" but an angry accusation: "Are you trying to make me look bad? I'm dealing with something real here." The supposed "crisis" was a lie, a performance designed to put Liam first, as always. Seven years of always being second, of cancelled plans and hollow apologies, now burned with the bitter truth: he wasn't having a relapse, he was just having my Chloe. Every single time, her excuses and empty promises had left me feeling like an afterthought, my feelings dismissed. How could I have been so foolishly hopeful, clinging to the belief that her fleeting affection was genuine love, not just a desperate cling to a safety net? Then, my boss offered an escape: a lead designer position in San Francisco, a chance for a fresh start. I was done with the lies, the neglect, the constant battle for a love that wasn't truly mine. Looking Chloe in the eye, despite my fever, I declared, "We're over. Your apologies are always too late." This time, I was choosing myself, walking away for good./0/82553/coverorgin.jpg?v=03e668352b29ddb0e0b7e8493748a860&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No Longer His Doll
I loved Michael so fully, a quiet burning devotion for my youth pastor, believing he was my soulmate. Then he left me for his "true love." In a fit of desperate jealousy, I hired men to just `scare` him, but it went horribly wrong. He suffered a head injury, waking with amnesia, claiming I was the only woman he remembered, the only one he loved. Guilt gnawed at me, but I clung to his twisted miracle, marrying him fast. My mother warned me, her voice weak but firm: "Sarah, this isn't right." I dismissed her, blinded by supposed love. Months later, in an isolated cabin during brutal childbirth, I heard Michael' s voice, cold and ruthless. He confessed his amnesia was a lie, a scheme with my stepsister, Jessica, his true love. They planned to steal my baby and force me into degradation. My baby girl was murdered by him, yet I was forced to breastfeed Jessica' s child, a constant, sickening humiliation. My mother' s warnings echoed, a devastating realization setting in: I was just a pawn, a "milk machine." But when Jessica cruelly revealed my own child had been slowly poisoned, something in me snapped. Broken, but not defeated, Mama V – an old friend of my late mother – recognized me when Michael dumped me at a decrepit city club, fully intending to sell me into a life I couldn't bear. She offered me a choice: sing for my life, or be swallowed by despair. I chose to sing. And I chose to live./0/83961/coverorgin.jpg?v=95598cf88d367bb5ed7c3dbb6602b056&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Sacred Reckoning
For years, I was Gabrielle Johns: a dedicated librarian in our sleepy Utah town, and the devout wife of Matthew Scott, a man cherished by our church. My deepest prayer was for children, and after embracing IVF and discovering I was having quadruplets, I truly believed God had answered my prayers fourfold. My brutal pregnancy was a testament to my faith, and Matthew, my "devoted" husband, orchestrated prayer circles, praising my suffering as a mother's beautiful love. Then, six months in, at a church potluck, my world shattered. Hiding in the garden, I overheard Matthew and two elders. Matthew, the man I loved, calmly explained how I was merely a "vessel," a "righteous sacrifice" carrying children for his mistress, his sister, his old friend, and his deceased fiancée's parents. He chuckled, deeming me "so trusting," "so naive," for believing these impossible pregnancies were ours. My casserole dish crashed, mirroring the implosion within me. Each kick from inside became a violation, a chilling reminder of his cold deception. I stumbled home, the truth a gaping wound, forced to play the loving wife while a cold rage hardened my core. He' d not only used my infertility, he' d caused it, poisoning me for years with "supplements" to destroy my eggs. My love incinerated, replaced by a singular, burning desire. The devout, forgiving Gabrielle died that night. The woman who remained knew one thing with absolute certainty: She wanted revenge. She would make Matthew pay, not with quick death, but with a living hell far worse./0/51735/coverorgin.jpg?v=c6aeecb27bb3c3324d176d5b7e3b3b07&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Dangerous Love
Erada and Olivia are identical twin sisters who were separated at birth, one grew up as an heiress to one of the four main families in Green city while the other became the leader of the most notorious group of mercenaries, Daera, her name brings fear into everyone's heart, cold and merciless, she will kill everyone who stands in her way. When Daera decides to seek revenge, she is determined not to spare anyone, not even her identical twin sister. In her quest for revenge, she meets Draco Steele, the CEO of Glam jewelries, the most formidable billionaire in Green city and Olivia's first love, Erada's aim was to use Draco just to exact her revenge but she slowly starts too fall for this dark dangerous billionaire. What happens when the two sisters gets stuck in a messy love affair ***/0/91470/coverorgin.jpg?v=adf14bc6d5565dcfe52b91b85b795c14&imageMogr2/format/webp)
