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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
My Lover, His Father

My Lover, His Father

"Eve," he called, placing wet inhumane kisses on my neck as his strong but warm hands held my tiny waist. I closed my eyes. "Yes...sir?" I moaned helplessly, feeling the harsh tingles in between my legs. "Eve," he called again, trailing wet kisses towards my ear. "Ad....Adrian," I breathed. "What am I doing?" he asked, nibbling my ear lobe. "Touching....touching me?" "I shouldn't be touching you," he said, exploring my neck like a thirsty vampire. "I....i want you to," I stuttered shamelessly. He wrapped my neck with his hand, choking me slightly. Oh, heavens. "My son is crazy about you," he said, gripping me tightly. "I don't want him," I whispered, taking in his wicked kisses on my neck. "You should. And.......I have a wife." ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 Evelyn (Eve) Millers, a twenty-year-old college first-year student and the only child of her wealthy parents, is a lover of mafia romance stories. She dreams of a love life with a mafia boss, but a night of tragedy changed her reality in a way she never expected, tossing her life in danger until she fell into the safe hands of her college mate, Mario Morelli, a guy whom she rejected his pure advances but eventually found out he is from a mafia family. He took her to his home where she met his huge family, most especially his HOT but dangerous-looking father, Adrian Morelli, the mafia DON. Have her wishes come true? What will she do about a wish coming true but owned by another and backed with great obstacles?
My Ex-wife, My Destination

My Ex-wife, My Destination

“Daisy, do you know what your mistake is?” He asks, his hardness rubbing between my buttocks. I stay silent because I’m not allowed to speak. “That you said ‘yes’ to marrying me.” He spanks my buttocks, grinding his shaft against my wetness. “Therefore, I’ll make sure to punish you and make you regret your decision every day.” He finishes his sentence by landing a hard spank on my crotch, causing me to fall straight onto the sofa. “Stay still if you don’t want me to make your night worse,” he warns, raising my buttocks in the air again. “Happy anniversary, my fuck toy.” He grabs my waist and plunges his hard membrane deep into me, causing me to gasp. *** Her husband treated her like a sex toy, and she let him, hoping that one day he would recognise her love. And he exploited her and vented his fury on her, making her life a living hell. In the end, he divorced her, not knowing she was carrying his baby. After the divorce, the baby was her only hope of survival. Five years later, when she was living her life with her daughter, his return raised questions: Is he back to separate her from her daughter or to rebuild their relationship? *** “Fine. I’m leaving and never show you my face.” He grasps my arms and leans closer to my face, accelerating my heartbeat. I despise how much he still affects me. “Because I care about you more than anything else in this entire world. Just remember, you and Hope are my destination, and I’m ready to take any path which leads me to you both.”
His Trophy Wife, Her Secret Life

His Trophy Wife, Her Secret Life

My wife, Sophia Hayes, was beautiful, poised, and utterly detached. For five years, our marriage had been a bizarre, silent transaction: she'd disappear for days, even weeks, to "support" her childhood sweetheart and his failing tech startup. Each time she returned, a lavish "guilt offering" would appear – a vintage Patek, a signed first edition, a priceless Ming vase. Ninety-nine such gifts now filled our sterile mansion, each a screaming monument to her absence and my bitter complicity. I was no longer the man who' d clung to hope, who' d screamed and shattered expensive crystal. Today, as she fastened a diamond bracelet, preparing for her hundredth departure, she waved away my feigned concern for our anniversary, prioritizing his celebration. "I need you to sign this," I said, offering a document I' d subtly placed among her latest "gift." She signed, carelessly dismissing it as a prenup addendum, already thinking of David. She didn' t read the fine print. She never did. "PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE" it read, the final decree awaiting its ironclad confirmation. The world saw her as a successful patron, supporting a talented founder, but at a glamorous gala, the veil slipped. A reporter, sensing blood, asked, "Are you two an item?" Panic flashed in Sophia' s eyes, and in her fear, she sought me out – her hidden husband – to rescue her public image. I stepped from the shadows, played my part, and then watched as she rushed not to me, but to him, murmuring reassurances. That night, she didn't come home; the next morning, she arrived, exhausted but triumphant, thanking me for "saving us." She dismissed my quiet anger as humility, oblivious. "You asked me to be there, Sophia," I said, watching her carefully curated world unravel. "I did? When?" she asked, genuinely bewildered. Her memory, a weapon of convenience, had erased my very existence. I nodded, utterly calm as she detailed her next trip with David, making another empty promise for "us" once she returned. That date was the day our divorce would be finalized. A cold, hard satisfaction settled in my gut; the world she had built was about to come crashing down. Just not in the way she expected.
He Gave Her the Romance, I Gave Him Goodbye

He Gave Her the Romance, I Gave Him Goodbye

There was a romantic rule in the field of astronomy. The first asteroid a researcher discovered had to be named after someone they loved most. In my seventh year of enduring hardship by Adrian Foster's side, he finally discovered a new star. On the day of the press conference, I, Clara Reed, wore my most presentable dress, waiting for him to call my name on stage. When I went to the lounge to bring him water, I overheard his partner trying to dissuade him in a low voice. "Adrian, Clara has been with you for seven years, if you give the naming rights to Lily, how devastated is Clara going to be? This isn't fair to Clara at all." Adrian toyed with a lighter, his tone completely matter-of-fact. "Clara is too dull. Naming a star after her would be tacky. Lily is a violinist. Her name fits the romance of this star much better. Besides, Clara is almost thirty. She's already lost the looks she once had. Who else would want her besides me? She gets marriage, Lily gets romance. What else could she possibly be unhappy about?" A draft swept through the corridor, chilling me to the bone. My throat burned sharply, every breath carrying a faint metallic taste. I looked at the cup of warm water in my hand. I didn't push the door open and turned back toward the hall. I went straight to the registration desk and submitted a document. "Please revoke my co-authorship attribution." I didn't want the star anymore. And I didn't want Adrian anymore either.