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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
One Night Stand With A Stranger

One Night Stand With A Stranger

I closed my eyes when I felt the man in front of me touch my chest. We are currently in a room that is not familiar to me. I want to open my eyes but I can't because it seems like it's too heavy with the amount of alcohol I drank earlier at Alexa's party. One of my classmates but I can't really call my friend. I felt his effort to remove the remaining cover from my chest and when he successfully removed it, he kissed me again down my neck until his lips landed on my chest which made me moan softly. "Moan my name, baby." he said but I can't say because I don't know him. He leaned me where he was and he took off the rest of his cover and brought my body close to him and then he touched and licked everything that his lips could pass, I bit my lower lip while he bit my chest and the one groped my bottom. "You're so wet, baby." I heard him say this and I moaned even more when he inserted his middle finger into my womanhood. He thrusted fast his middle finger on me and I feel so crazy right now because I don't know how to do, to say or to react to what is happening to me tonight. "S-Stop..." I said softly but he didn't listen. He carries my legs and puts it on to his shoulder and I slowly feel something in my femininity that it wants to enter. He put inside his things. shit. ugh! I wanted to scream but he immediately silenced me with a violent kiss. It entered the entirety of my womanhood and then took it out so fast that the pain I felt earlier was immediately replaced by a strange tickle that felt like I was going to pee because of the great taste. "You're mine, only mine." he said and moved me to the bed and that's when he started riding me faster and faster. He's so good. I want more but he stopped when he released his own lust inside of me, gosh just now I wanted him to stop doing what I was doing and wanted to do it again with a man I don't even know if I know.
The Regent's Betrayal

The Regent's Betrayal

The scent of incense hung heavy in the ancestral hall, a grim prelude to the confession Eleanor Hayes was about to hear. Her husband, Arthur, the Duke Regent she had adored for years, was taking Clara Miller-her adopted "sister"-as a concubine. In his "kindness," her late father had brought the healer Clara into their home, and this was her repayment: shattering Eleanor's three-year marriage. The betrayal escalated when Arthur not only sided with Clara but, upon learning of Clara's pregnancy, shockingly demoted Eleanor to a mere concubine. The ultimate indignity struck when he falsely accused her of poisoning Clara and then, with chilling indifference, demanded she sacrifice her own flesh and blood to create an antidote. His past tenderness curdled into icy cruelty, stripping away her dignity with every word, every biased decision. How could the man who had raised her, the "Uncle" she had loved since childhood, inflict such pain? The very person who swore to protect her was now demanding her mutilation, leaving her reeling from a betrayal so profound it felt like a physical wound. What dark secret lay behind this monstrous transformation? With her heart shattered, Eleanor made her choice. Drawing on the strength of her Vance legacy, she accepted the divorce, abandoned her broken marriage, and volunteered to lead her family' s army north against the barbarian invasion-a desperate bid for purpose beyond her personal ruin.
986 Nights of Betrayal

986 Nights of Betrayal

For 986 nights, my marriage bed had not been my own. My husband, Corbett Ewing, heir to a New York real estate empire, was haunted by a ghost, and that ghost' s sister, Ivana, was my tormentor. Every night, she' d scratch at our door, claiming nightmares, and Corbett would let her in, laying a spare duvet for her in our master bedroom. One night, Ivana shrieked, pointing at me, "She tried to kill me! She snuck in while I was sleeping and choked me!" Corbett, without a second thought, yelled at me, "Jenna! What did you do?" He didn' t even look at me for my side of the story. Later, he tried to apologize with a macaron, my favorite pistachio. But it was filled with almond paste, to which I was deathly allergic. As my throat closed up and my vision tunneled, Ivana shrieked again, claiming a panic attack over online comments. Corbett, faced with my dying gasps and her fake hysterics, chose her. He carried her away, leaving me alone to save myself. He never came back to the hospital. He sent his assistant to discharge me. When I returned home, he tried to appease me, but then asked me to give my father' s last gift, my perfume organ, to Ivana for her "design studio." I refused, but he took it anyway. The next morning, Ivana "accidentally" shattered a bottle of my father' s custom scent, the last physical piece of him I had. I looked at Corbett, my hands bleeding, my heart shattered. He pulled Ivana behind him, shielding her from me, his voice cold, "That' s enough, Jenna. You' re hysterical. You' re upsetting Ivana." In that moment, the last shred of hope died. I was done. I accepted an offer to be a head perfumer in France, renewed my passport, and planned my escape.