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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Back to the Engagement Feast, I Chose His Uncle

Back to the Engagement Feast, I Chose His Uncle

Ciel Miller opened her eyes to the blinding lights of a Manhattan ballroom, realizing she had been reborn on the exact night her life was ruined. On the stage, the billionaire patriarch of the Chavez family was proudly announcing her engagement to his arrogant grandson, Harry. In her past life, Ciel had blindly accepted his outstretched hand. That single step plunged her into a suffocating marriage filled with public humiliation and psychological torture, slowly draining her life away until she died. Harry had treated her like a pathetic stray dog, flaunting his absolute ownership while systematically destroying her. Now, as the polite applause echoed, Harry extended his hand with a sickening smirk, waiting for her to lower her head and submit. Instead, Ciel stood perfectly rigid and publicly rejected him in front of the entire New York elite. Harry's face drained of color, while his family quickly mocked her. "This is a cheap, embarrassing trick to get his attention," his sister sneered. Harry's arrogant smirk crawled back. He fully believed she was just throwing a childish tantrum to make him jealous, convinced she was absolutely nothing without his wealth and status. But Ciel looked at the man who had killed her in her past life with freezing disgust. Then, she turned to the powerful patriarch and dropped a bombshell that left the entire ballroom gasping for air. "If the family insists on taking care of me, I will marry into the Chavez family." "But I want to marry the comatose war hero. I want to marry General Deacon Chavez." She would rather spend the rest of her life with a "vegetable" than wake up next to a monster.
Ex-Wife Rising: The CEO's Regret

Ex-Wife Rising: The CEO's Regret

My Chanel suit was ruined, stained with road dirt and torn at the sleeve, while the hospital bodyguards stood like stone walls to keep me away from my husband’s room. Inside that room, Ashely Berger was being treated for "multiple fractures" after allegedly lunging into the path of my car—a car I know she threw herself into on purpose. The press swarmed me, flashing cameras in my face and hurling accusations of attempted murder, while my husband, Corbin, marched past me without a single glance, his eyes filled with nothing but cold, lethal disgust. He didn't ask if I was hurt; he didn't care about the truth. He only cared about the woman behind the door, whispering gentle promises to her while treating me like a piece of filth that had somehow contaminated his life. I stood there, hollowed out, as he demanded a divorce and threatened to strip me of everything, branding me a monster in front of the entire world to protect his precious reputation and his mistress. The injustice burned, but as he turned his back on me to comfort her, I realized the game had changed. I wasn't going to let him ruin me for a crime I didn't commit, and I certainly wouldn't let her steal my life without a fight. I walked into the room, locked the door, and looked at the woman playing the victim. She wanted to play the role of the tragic, broken angel? Fine. I was ready to show her exactly how a real Mcgowan fights back.