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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Designing Her Own Life

Designing Her Own Life

For ten years, I was Gabrielle Fuller, successful graphic designer turned dedicated wife, my life orbiting Andrew Scott, my charismatic lawyer husband. Then my father, a well-respected judge and Andrew' s mentor, made a dying wish: "Gabby… promise me… you and Andrew… work it out." Hours later, clutching my phone in the sterile waiting room, I tried to reach Andrew, who was at a crucial legal conference in London. Dozens of calls, countless texts – all went unanswered. Finally, on the twentieth try, an unfamiliar female voice answered Andrew' s phone: Jennifer Chavez, his ex-girlfriend and current colleague. Her clipped tone dismissed my emergency, saying he was "busy." The world tilted as I realized the unspoken truth: he was with her, and she was answering his calls while my father lay dying. My father' s funeral unfolded without Andrew; his absence a glaring wound in the front row, a whisper among the city's legal elite. I clung to flimsy excuses until I saw it: Andrew' s beaming photo celebrating a "big win" in London, posted the day my father died, with a photo of him and Jennifer captioned by Andrew: "Couldn't have done it without you." Every excuse shattered. He had time for social media but not for my desperate calls. The man I built my life around wasn't unreachable; he was simply unavailable to me. I called my best friend, Molly: "It' s over. I need a divorce lawyer." Now, I reclaim my life, piece by painful piece, starting with a new job and finding my own purpose. But when Andrew returns, pleading ignorance and begging for another chance, can I truly move on when the past refuses to let go?
The Betrayed Wife's Sweet Revenge

The Betrayed Wife's Sweet Revenge

The heavy iron gate groaned open, and I stepped out, expecting freedom. After a year inside, I longed for my fiancé, Liam, and our son, Noah. But the drive home to our familiar house revealed a chilling transformation: the paint was wrong, my rose bushes were gone. Then Mrs. Gable, our neighbor, delivered the first blow: "Liam has had his hands full, you know. It was a blessing he had Sarah to help him, especially with her being pregnant and all." Sarah. My brother' s widow. Pregnant. My heart seized. The key didn' t fit, but the door was unlocked. Inside, my home was alien-cold, modern, bare of our memories. And then I saw it: a baby' s playpen, a high chair. Not ours. Creeping to the back patio, I saw Liam, his arm around Sarah, her hand on a very pregnant belly. They looked like a perfect family. My perfect family. Then their words: "Are you sure she won' t cause any trouble? She' s supposed to get out this week." "Don' t you worry about Olivia. I know her. She' s loyal to a fault. She took the fall for us once, she' s not going to make waves now. She knows her place." Us. The word twisted in my gut. The truth hit me: Liam hadn' t made a mistake. Sarah had falsified the architectural plans. They had conspired. Liam had begged me to take the blame, promising a future, swearing he' d wait. I believed him. I sacrificed a year, my reputation, my career, for a monstrous lie. The betrayal shattered my heart, but beneath the pain, a cold, hard anger ignited. They thought I was broken, a loyal fool. They were about to learn how wrong they were.
The Fallen Queen's Dating Show Comeback

The Fallen Queen's Dating Show Comeback

Catalina had just won the Best Actress Golden Globe. It was supposed to be the absolute pinnacle of her acting career. But a broken heel on her way backstage sent her crashing right into the arms of Brogan Cohen. He was Hollywood's most untouchable A-lister, and the man she despised most. A hidden paparazzo snapped a perfectly timed photo of him kneeling to untangle her dress, making it look like a deeply intimate, secret romance. The internet instantly exploded. Brogan's rabid fanbase tore Catalina apart, branding her a shameless clout-chaser. To make matters worse, a rival actress weaponized the scandal, accusing Catalina of sleeping her way to the top to steal roles. Within days, Catalina's world collapsed. Her upcoming lead role in a major indie film was suspended. Two luxury fashion houses unilaterally terminated her contracts. Meanwhile, Brogan simply hopped on his private jet and fled to the South of France, leaving her trapped in her apartment as a mob of screaming paparazzi battered her front door. She had spent years proving her talent, only to be blacklisted and labeled a manipulative homewrecker over a stupid accident. The sheer injustice of it suffocated her. She hated Brogan with a fiery, visceral passion for destroying her reputation and running away like a coward. With her career bleeding out, her manager slammed a contract on the desk: an unedited, live-streamed survival dating show on a private Caribbean island. "You need to prove you are entirely repulsed by Brogan Cohen." Catalina grabbed the pen and signed her name with aggressive, sharp strokes. She was going to flirt with every model on that island, burn this false narrative to the ground, and make Brogan choke when he turned on his TV.
Too Late, Mr. Mills: Watch Me Leave

Too Late, Mr. Mills: Watch Me Leave

Adriana Guzman spent two agonizing days tearing through the freezing fog of the woods, searching for her missing five-year-old daughter. She finally found little Pippa curled up under a massive oak tree, her tiny body frozen solid and lifeless. Trembling, Adriana called her husband, Everette. Instead of panic, she heard the soft voice of his mistress in the background. "You think telling me my daughter is dead will make me book a flight home?" He laughed, accusing her of faking the tragedy for attention. When Adriana woke up in the hospital, Everette finally arrived, bringing his mistress with him. He shielded the other woman from Adriana's grief, threw a checkbook at her, and demanded she name her price to sign the divorce papers. He only believed the truth when the midday news broadcasted the discovery of Pippa's body. Exhausted and utterly broken by his cruelty, Adriana swallowed a hidden bottle of sleeping pills. As the darkness pulled her under, she felt a suffocating sense of injustice. Why had she wasted her life begging for a cold man's affection? Why did her innocent daughter have to die alone in the freezing mud while he drank champagne? But the end never came. Adriana opened her eyes to find herself twenty-one again, standing in a luxury hotel room as a younger Everette walked out of the shower to propose. This time, she smashed a crystal vase, pressed a jagged shard to her own bleeding throat, and looked him dead in the eye. "I would rather die right here than ever marry you."
Reborn Princess: Burning Her Scornful Crown

Reborn Princess: Burning Her Scornful Crown

I spent three years trying to be the perfect Crown Princess, enduring my husband Bradley's coldness while pouring my family's fortune into his royal projects. I truly believed our marriage was built on duty and that our adopted son, Jimmie, was the bond that held us together. Everything changed on a stormy night when I caught Bradley in his study, calmly watching my family's trust fund documents-the entire Orozco legacy-burn to ash in the fireplace. He didn't even look guilty as he explained that I was never his partner, only a convenient bank account for the Crown. When I lunged to save the papers, Bradley shoved me to the floor with bored indifference. Then, the ultimate betrayal walked through the door: Jimmie. My son didn't run to comfort me; he took Bradley's hand and looked at me with pure venom. Bradley sneered, revealing that Jimmie wasn't adopted at all-he was his biological son with my best friend, Icy. "We just needed you to fund his future," Bradley said. I was dragged out by guards and thrown into a sedan speeding toward the cliffs. At Dead Man's Curve, the driver jumped out of the moving car, leaving me to plummet into the freezing ocean. As the water filled my lungs and my life faded, I didn't feel fear. I felt a distilled, murderous hate. I woke up gasping for air in my old bedroom, three years before the crash. It was the day of my fake infertility diagnosis, the beginning of their plan to break me. "The Fiona who listened to you is dead," I whispered, looking at my reflection. I didn't cry this time. Instead, I dressed in black and headed into the night to find the only man Bradley feared-the lethal, "boiling-blooded" Regent, Demian Ballard. I was going to save his life, and in return, he was going to help me burn the palace down.