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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Her Selfless Love

Her Selfless Love

"You told them you love me ,huh?" He asks with a raised eyebrows, jaw hardened and eyes narrowed at the shy girl he has hated all his life. She was afraid of his tone,he didn't looked happy with her confession. Was her love going to be unrequited one? "I fuck*** asked you something Ezra! Answer me!" His tone made her gulp,his grip on her arm made her flinch in fear. "Yes" She finally answered looking into his emotionless eyes. Smirking he laughed at her confession,not believing her. "Ezra,do you even know what love is,Oh I almost forgot you are an Orphan,how would you know?" His words were sharp as knife, piercing her healed wounds. She fisted her hands, trying to control her tears. He sighed in frustration running his hand through his hair. "Now mom will not stop till she has made you her daughter in law! Fu**! Why you!" He said ,pacing the room . Oblivion to the tears ,she tried her best to hide. He didn't love her. He never did, she was a fool to even think that he for once did. Hate is all he had for her and those who said hate is the beginning of love,were fools mocking her right now. Gathering the little pride left in her she answers back in a quivering voice. "Yes,I love you. But I don't want anything from you." She says and he stares.Confused at her weird confession. Who says that ? "Nothing you say? Are you playing some brain games girl?" She lowers her eyes and leaves but not before whispering the words that made him feel something after a very long time. "Love is not something to learn ,but to feel Aaron. And I know what I feel. You may name it infatuation and lust,but I proudly call it my selfless love" .................................................................... Ezra was not meant to be born,an orphan left on the streets when she was an infant. Mrs Reed an influential women takes her in, to make her live in her castle as the adopted daughter of their household help Mrs Mary She grew up in the castle with Mrs Reed's sons, treated as family by everyone. Except for Aaron, the eldest son of Mrs Reed who despised the orphan girl. Her smile irritated him, her sweet words infuriated him. He hated the sweet girl which everyone was so fond of, while poor Ezra liked him despite his loathe towards her. She selflessly loved him all these years, not expecting anything in return. But how long can an unrequited love survive? How long can the selfless girl find her happiness in the man that only hates her. What happens when Mrs Reed comes to know of the girls feelings towards her Son and forces him to marry her? Can her selfless love melt his frozen heart or will she loose herself trying to get him? Let's find out on this beautiful journey of love, betrayals and hate. That how long can a selfless love sustain?
Your Stolen Dreams, My Rebuilt Empire

Your Stolen Dreams, My Rebuilt Empire

I never thought I'd see David Miller again. For seven years, I' d been the ghost of Ash Carter, the once-promising architecture student whose dreams he' d stolen, whose career he' d sabotaged. Now, a single mom doing freelance drafting to pay the bills, I found myself in a children's museum, comforting my son Leo after a scraped knee. Then, his voice. Theatrically loud, cutting through the din. David, impeccably suited, with a preppy assistant clinging to his arm. He spotted me, his eyes lighting up with a sickening, triumphant gleam. Before a crowd of strangers and his colleagues, he pulled out our old university portfolio, the very project he' d claimed as his own. He draped himself in false sorrow, claiming he' d "never stopped thinking about what we had," implying Leo was his son. He gestured at my comfortable but simple jeans, offering to "help me get back on my feet." His colleagues watched, pitying him, scorning me as the woman who' d let a genius slip away. My past, his crime, was put on public display, twisted into a narrative of my failure and his magnanimity. A cold calm settled over me. How could he be this brazen? This utterly devoid of shame? He truly believed I was still pining for him, still broken by his betrayal. My heart ached for the injustice, for the years he' d condemned me to anonymity. But then, I lifted my hand. The art-deco sapphire ring glinted under the museum lights. "And I'm married," I stated, my voice clear and firm. His confidence wavered, but only for a second. "Ridiculous! Who would marry you?" he sneered. Just as his pitying gaze returned, a quiet voice cut through: "Is there a problem here, Ash?" My husband, Michael Vance, stepped forward, and David' s world began to unravel.
My Wife, My Best Friend, Their Deceit

My Wife, My Best Friend, Their Deceit

My best friend Kevin invited me to his dad' s 60th birthday, a big celebration because his dad had terminal cancer. My wife, Olivia, couldn't make it; she was on a two-week work trip in Europe, a crucial conference for her career. But when I arrived at the party, I saw Olivia, kneeling before Mr. and Mrs. Miller, performing a "daughter-in-law tea" ceremony, dressed in a way I' d never seen. Then I heard Kevin' s relative say, "Kevin is so lucky. His fiancée is just wonderful." Fiancée. The word crushed me. Olivia' s practiced smile froze when she saw me. She pulled me aside, whispering, "Ethan, what are you doing here? It's not what you think." Kevin then appeared, claiming it was a "little white lie" for his dying father, wanting to see him settled. Olivia eagerly agreed, pleading with me to keep quiet, "just for today." They stood there, my wife and my best friend, united in their deceit, asking me to participate in my own humiliation. A cold clarity washed over me. "For your dad's dying wish? Does his dying wish also include a grandchild to complete the 'four-generation' picture? Are you pregnant, too?" The air turned to ice. Olivia recoiled, then feigned outrage, calling me "cruel." Her gaslighting was instant. Later that night, I went home to retrieve belongings and found them passionately kissing on my couch. "It's... it's not what it looks like!" she gasped, but I pulled out my phone, recording, "Save it for the judge. I want a divorce. And I'm keeping the dog."
The Five Hundred Thousand Dollar Lie

The Five Hundred Thousand Dollar Lie

Three years of playing my guitar until my fingers bled, enduring stale smoke and leering eyes in a Vegas lounge. It was all for him, my fiancé Jax, to pay off a $500,000 debt that threatened his family's legacy. Finally, the "contract" was fulfilled, the debt paid, and I was on my way home, dreaming of our reunion. But when I reached our old apartment, it was empty, a foreclosure notice taped to the door. Panic clawed at my throat as his phone went straight to voicemail, over and over. Then, a notification from a music blog changed everything, showing Jax, my fiancé, beaming with Savannah Monroe at a high-profile Nashville party. The caption: "Nashville's new power couple, Jax Thorne and Savannah Monroe, celebrate their groundbreaking merger." My phone clattered to the dusty floor, my mind unable to grasp the words. I stumbled to the penthouse address listed, only to overhear their voices dripping with casual cruelty. "She'd do anything for me," Jax bragged, his voice cold, "Pure profit." Savannah's syrupy drawl followed, "The loan shark? Seriously? You hired an out-of-work actor from Memphis." My blood ran cold as the truth hit me: the debt, the loan shark, the three years of hell-all a lie, a twisted game orchestrated by the man I loved. "Revenge," Jax hissed, "Her father stole a hit song from my dad. Ruined him. Drove him to suicide. I wanted her to feel what it was like to have everything taken away." My entire life, my sacrifice, my love-it was all a setup, a cruel, elaborate joke. His father was a jealous drunk, a gambler, and the 'stolen song' was a generous gift, not a theft. I was a pawn in a revenge plot based on a lie, completely broken, with nothing left. But as I stood there in the Nashville sun, clutching a small, crumpled piece of paper-a mysterious number for "a true emergency"-a desperate, fluttering hope ignited. I had never used it. With trembling hands, I dialed. "Rothschild, private office." The name echoed in my mind, a legend. "I... I need to speak to Marcus Rothschild," I whispered, "It's an emergency."