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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Wedding Day Humiliation: A Love Lost

Wedding Day Humiliation: A Love Lost

The wedding music had been looping for over an hour. Everyone was looking at me, standing alone on the stage under the ridiculously expensive floral arch. My fiancée, Sophia Reed, was absent on our wedding day. My phone buzzed. It was a video call from Sophia. A wave of relief washed over me. Her face would pop up, she' d apologize, and the party could continue. But it wasn' t her face that filled the giant screen. It was a scandalous scene, broadcast in high definition for hundreds of our closest friends and business associates. A smug man' s voice asked, "Am I better than Ethan Miller?" Then Sophia' s voice, breathless, replied, "Liam, you' re so much better." A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room. My smile froze. My brain kicked into overdrive. I calmly activated the screen recording function. The crowd erupted, phones out, filming the spectacle. Sophia' s family stormed towards me. Her father yelled, "Ethan Miller, turn off your phone!" "Mr. Reed, what' s the point?" I asked, gesturing to the sea of phones. "Everyone' s already seen what they shouldn' t. My reputation is ruined. The wedding is a joke. So let them see it all. Let them see I' m the victim. That' s the best way to salvage my image now." Despite everything, I found myself handing him his emergency heart medication. I, Ethan Miller, the self-made man, who had endured so much for their family, including agreeing to marry Sophia despite knowing her secrets, was now publicly humiliated. But then, the unbelievable happened. "It' s fake!" she blurted out, her voice trembling. "It' s all fake! It's makeup! Even the video… it was pre-made AI footage. It wasn' t me…!" My mind, usually so quick and decisive, short-circuited. Why would she do this? Why orchestrate such an elaborate, humiliating lie? I knew then that I had to find out.
The Price of His Pride

The Price of His Pride

Sarah Miller had it all: a successful tech career she traded for family, investing millions into her husband Ethan's architectural empire. Their seven-year-old twins, Leo and Luna, were her world, buzzing with excitement for their promised Fourth of July trip to Universal Studios. But Ethan had other plans – a yacht trip with his "pregnant" personal assistant, Tiff. Then, a chilling note: he'd taken the kids to the desolate Nevada wilderness for "character-building," leaving them with minimal water, one tent. Panic turned to horror when Sarah found them. Days later, search and rescue called: Leo and Luna, gone, victims of heatstroke and dehydration. While Sarah identified their ravaged bodies, Ethan threw a lavish pre-baby shower with Tiff, dismissing Sarah's call about their dead children as a "dramatic stunt." He returned only to smash their photos, allow Tiff to spill their ashes, and brutalize Sarah for trying to mourn. How could a father abandon his children to such a horrific fate? How could he deny their deaths, celebrate with his lover, and then violently silence their grieving mother? The cold, calculated cruelty was unfathomable. But a desperate, heartbreaking voicemail from Leo’s last moments and a shocking truth about Tiff would shatter Ethan’s narcissistic world, setting off a chain of events that would force him to confront the monstrous consequences of his actions, and leave Sarah to pick up the pieces of a life utterly destroyed.
When Love Became A Larceny

When Love Became A Larceny

My tech company was at its peak – celebrated, successful. For twenty years, I believed my marriage to Bella was just the same: perfect. We had two sons, Mark and Alex, my pride and joy, the heirs to everything I had built. Then, at fifty, Bella lay dying in a sterile hospital bed. Her rasping voice delivered the blow that pulverized my world: "Ethan," she whispered, "the boys… they' re not yours. They' re Ryan' s." My heart squeezed, then shattered. My own sons, whom I loved more than life, turned on me instantly, their eyes cold and calculating. They saw Ryan, their biological father, not as a long-lost parent, but as a direct route to my wealth, reducing me to nothing but a disposable obstacle. In the brutal inheritance struggle that followed, the very boys I' d raised beat me to death. I gasped for air, my heart giving out under the crushing weight of their betrayal, my world built on a twenty-year lie crumbling to dust. How could I have been so utterly blind? My final thought was of profound regret, a desperate, yearning wish for another chance to live life differently, to choose another path. Then, darkness. But instead of an afterlife, I jolted awake, alive, younger, surrounded by the pulsing chaos of an SXSW party. Standing before me, vibrant and deceptively innocent, was Bella, dropping to one knee, a champagne flute raised, asking me to marry her. This was my impossible second chance. And this time, with the bitter truth of twenty years flooding my mind, I knew exactly what to say.
My Hooligan

My Hooligan

🎤🎤.....In this world, a mother is the greatest warrior..... 🎤🎤 "How deep is the ocean? Without knowing the depths you can't rule over it. That is how you should be Zoya. Be like the ocean no one can rule." Amulya told her daughter. "People like us have no one to call our own, people like us live for alms. I won't always be with you forever my child, but promise me, I don't know how you are going to do it but you should become wealthy and help the likes of us. Be dominant and strong so that when you come to face your father one day, he will be scared of you. Others are scared of him, but you, let him be scared of you, promise me Zoya." "I promise you mother." Zoya promised. "But tell me, who is my father?" "Once you see him, you will know. He is feared all over India. I can't tell you his name, they might be watching my every move to end our lives." Amulya told her child looking around her in fear. "But don't worry my child, I will be alive till I have to hold your hand in the dark and make you walk through it even when you are scared of the dark, then I will teach you to even leave my hand and stand strong against others and walk through the darkness without fear." Zoya, a ten year old poor girl became alone when her mother, (Amulya a 22 year old woman who escape from a well feared man that made her his sex slave at the age of 11), died in an accident alongside with her adopted sister. "Even in your final breath. Do remember your promise. Thorny paths are what you will find in this world. Even if the earth burns as a barrier, cross it and come. Without giving up your persistence, stand firmly in front Zoya." This is the story of Zoya who went beyond destiny to become India number 1 most feared Don and fulfilling her late mother's wish, then, her mother's past came knocking on her door.
My Life, A Perfect Scam

My Life, A Perfect Scam

My life as a rising star in software development was predictable, good. Then the Affinity Gauge appeared, numbers hovering above everyone's heads, revealing their true feelings for me. My college sweetheart, Chloe, charming and affectionate, always told me how much she leaned on me, especially after her wealthy adopted family found their biological daughter. I poured thousands into "her foster mother's medical bills" and "her childhood friend's 'vocational' tuition," believing it was all for our future, our marriage. Despite my love, her Affinity Gauge stubbornly read a stark, unbelievable 0. I told myself it was a glitch, until I overheard her in a cafe. "That five thousand Ethan gave me barely covered Mrs. Gable's retainer for the month's act!" she'd hissed. Her friend, Liam, added, "We need to push for the big one, the six-figure investment, then you dump him." My world tilted, the 0 above her head blazing into terrifying clarity. The woman I loved, the future I envisioned, was a meticulously crafted lie. I watched them, Liam flashing designer everything, Chloe playing the innocent victim, their intimacy undeniable. Their demands escalated, a fabricated medical emergency the final straw. My affection curdled into a cold, grim resolve. How could I have been so blind, so stupid? The betrayal cut deep, but the Gauge had been right all along, a cruel, undeniable truth. The sheer audacity of their fraud, the hundreds of thousands they'd robbed from me, demanded justice. I wouldn't be their fool any longer. I began to dismantle their carefully constructed reality, piece by piece, starting with a call to a private investigator. This wasn't just about reclaiming my money; it was about exposing every single lie and making sure they paid for every cent of their deceit.
No Longer His Muse

No Longer His Muse

The sterile white walls of Liam's penthouse, a gilded cage masquerading as my studio, stifled me. Every painting, every breath, belonged to him. Then, a cold, glowing message appeared in my vision: `[Muse System Activated. Main Task: Sever the parasitic relationship with Liam.]` My secret guide had arrived. Its first sub-quest: `[Facilitate the marriage between Liam and his childhood sweetheart, Scarlett.]` This was my way out. I became the perfect, pliant artist, orchestrating his reunion with the sophisticated art critic he truly desired. I endured her disdain, even painting her tributes to feed his obsession. The night of the Art Gala, I felt unwell, my head spinning from stress. As I steadied myself by an ice sculpture, Scarlett deliberately bumped me. I stumbled, and a piece of the sculpture crashed down, narrowly missing her. She screamed, accusing me of jealousy, of trying to hurt her. Liam, his rage burning, pulled her into his arms, completely ignoring me. `"Chloe! What the hell did you do?"` he snarled. The crowd's murmurs turned into accusations, judging me the crazy, jealous mistress. A familiar cramping seized my stomach, and I doubled over in searing pain. Blood trickled down my leg, a dark stain on my light dress. I was having a miscarriage, a life I didn't even know I carried. Liam dragged me to his car, ` "Can' t you go one night without making a scene?" ` he hissed, before abandoning me in the parking lot to return to Scarlett. The system confirmed my loss: `[Pregnancy terminated due to physical trauma.]` I realized then: this wasn't just neglect. It was calculated cruelty, a test from Scarlett to see how far he'd go for her. And he had passed. His utter indifference, his willingness to sacrifice me, ignited a cold fury. I would still get them together. But this time, it wouldn' t be for his happiness. It would be for my ultimate, painful freedom.
The Fiancée Who Vanished

The Fiancée Who Vanished

My wedding day was supposed to be perfect, a cascade of ivory lace and a secret smile for the life growing inside me. I was marrying Ethan, the brilliant tech entrepreneur, the man who had swept me off my feet, the father of our child. Then, a knock on the door, and my maid of honor’s whispered words shattered everything: "His plane went down. No survivors." Grief crushed me, a physical weight, obscuring the world in a blur of hushed voices and endless pain. My rock, my older brother David, shielded me as I navigated the nightmare of loss, our future obliterated. Weeks later, a ghost of Ethan arrived – his identical twin, Marcus – with his "spiritual guide," Isabella, a woman with unnervingly serene eyes. But one sleepless night, voices from the library pierced the silence: Eleanor, Ethan’s mother, was confronting "Marcus," calling him Ethan. My blood ran cold as I heard him confess he faked his death for Isabella, claiming she had aggressive leukemia, promising to return when she was gone. The man I loved, the father of my child, had orchestrated this monstrous betrayal, making me mourn him while he was alive and with her. Then came the anonymous video: Ethan and Isabella, their raw, animalistic passion a calculated act of cruelty designed to inflict maximum pain, and it worked. My despair turned to a cold, hard rage, culminating in a decision only he forced me to make. I called David, my voice trembling with fury: "He faked his death. I want him to believe I’m gone because of him. I want to disappear." This time, my disappearance wouldn't be a tragedy; it would be the first act of my retribution, a masterpiece of his own making.