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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
My Wife's Dark Secret

My Wife's Dark Secret

I was Liam, a quiet woodworker, often overshadowed by my dazzling wife Victoria and our Hamptons estate. My son, Ethan, a perfect copy of his mother, barely acknowledged me, instead fawning over his "Uncle Julian Vance." My life felt comfortably settled, if a little overlooked. That changed the sunny afternoon Julian arrived, a pale, small boy named Noah trailing behind him. Ethan cruelly taunted Noah, and a horrifying "accident" soon left Noah severely burned and fighting for his life in the hospital. As I sat outside his room, the smell of burnt fabric clinging to me, I overheard Victoria and Julian's low, conspiratorial voices. They spoke of a "switch at that clinic in Monaco," how "Noah wasn't Julian's," and "Liam's little swimmers" disappearing because "the medication worked perfectly." My blood ran cold. They were planning to pull the plug, to kill a child, because "Ethan is the sole heir." This wasn't just Julian's son; Noah, the frail, abused boy, was mine. And Ethan, the son I'd loved and raised, wasn't. My seemingly perfect family was a monstrous lie, a gilded cage built on unspeakable betrayals. Everything I thought was real crumbled to dust. They had sterilized me, swapped my child, and now plotted murder, all for inheritance. How could I have been so blind? How could the woman I loved be capable of such chilling evil? The world tilted, sickening and raw. With a horrifying clarity, I knew what I had to do next. Pushing open that door, my voice raw, I declared war: "You want a divorce, Victoria? You got it." But not before the world knew the truth of what you had done.
A Second Chance, Fall In Love Again

A Second Chance, Fall In Love Again

The sharp pain in my head was nothing compared to my stepsister Sarah' s screams. My fiancé, Liam, already by her side, shot me a look of pure accusation: "Chloe, what the hell did you do?" Sarah clutched her ankle, twisting her face in agony, then whispered, "She was just… upset that you were holding my hand." A gentle poison. Liam' s suspicion solidified into certainty, his eyes hardening with disgust as he scooped Sarah into his arms. "Her ankle looks broken. We can' t carry her and help you walk. You' ll have to wait here." He abandoned me in the middle of nowhere, my own leg throbbing, my head pounding, leaving me utterly alone with a profound, bottomless despair. In the hospital, Sarah and her doctor brother, Dr. Evans, casually manipulated Liam, fabricating a diagnosis of a mere bruise for my fractured leg, and suggesting I was "not well." Liam, blinded by guilt and Sarah' s lies, agreed. The man I loved was gone, replaced by an angry stranger who punished me for a pain he refused to see. He pushed my wheelchair, demanding an apology, completely ignoring the new, blinding agony ripping through my leg as it jolted. A dark discoloration rapidly spread from my knee, yet Dr. Evans dismissed it as "just the bruising settling." They were going to send me to a mental institution. I looked at Liam, then at the ring he tossed to the floor-our future, discarded. Something within me broke, a cool, clear voice whispering: Let go of this life. I can give you a new one. I shed my old self, my art, my love for Liam. I was Chloe no more. As I finally walked onto the hospital rooftop, Liam' s scream cut through the air. He lunged, a desperate, impossible attempt to save me, only to fall with me.
The Fake Mute's Spectacular Revenge Game

The Fake Mute's Spectacular Revenge Game

Madeline slammed the prenuptial agreement onto the table, forcing Danielle to sign herself away as a "blood bag" bride. To secure her mother's safety, Danielle was sold to the ruthless, comatose billionaire Deforest Stuart. She kept her head down, perfectly playing the role of a terrified, broken mute. But on her wedding night, Deforest's sister set a vicious trap, dragging Danielle to a hotel to be ruined by a sleazy investor. Danielle was prepared to escape, but the hotel door was suddenly smashed open by a massive figure. It wasn't the investor. It was her comatose husband, Deforest, temporarily awakened by a violent, drug-induced rage. In the pitch-black room, he pinned her down, mistaking her scent for a ghost from his past, and violently claimed her. She fled before dawn, only to be blinded by camera flashes. His sister dragged her back to the Stuart manor, ripping her collar open under the chandelier to expose the dark hickeys on her neck. "Throw this shameless whore out into the street!" the matriarch ordered. Danielle's eyes grew cold. If they kicked her out now, her years of planning to tear this rotten family apart would be completely destroyed. No one believed that the monster who assaulted her was the very man lying perfectly still in the medical wing. Playing the frantic mute, Danielle dragged the family to his bedroom. Right as the guards reached for her, she launched herself onto the bed, crushing her weight directly onto Deforest's chest. A second later, the "comatose" tyrant's eyes snapped open with murderous rage, and her real game of revenge finally began.
Saving Corky

Saving Corky

I started out on the streets when I was 16 years old — when my parents walked in my room one night and found me in bed with one of my dad's business partners. My parents didn't care that a man came into my room and touched me inappropriately during their party. They were more concerned about their reputation. "A well-respected business executive" like my father couldn't have a whoring daughter like me, bringing his name to shame, so I had to go. And it didn't matter that I had nowhere to go. So, now at 22, I find myself a prostitute with a bad-tempered pimp, and a drug problem. I stay high on anything I can get my hands on just, so I don't have to feel the nasty shit the Johns are doing to me or be sound of mind when I'm blowing them off. I'm in my tiny ass apartment right now getting ready to head out to my corner for the night and get me a John or two.... try to make me some money for the night. I have rent due in a day are two, so as I'm getting ready, I snort me I line of coke and fuck that shit good. I look at myself in the mirror one last time... make sure I don't have any white shit on my nose, are anywhere else, then I head out to the corner. "Hey Layla, any new business tonight?" I ask the lady and my best friend that stands on the same corner as me. "Hey Corky girl. No, it's been kind of quiet tonight, but the night is still young girly... and you're looking fire tonight, so I'm sure you will get a few hits." "I hope so, Layla. I have rent this week, and you know how Martin is about us being late for our rent." "Yes, well, Martin should take the cut we give him after every night as our rent money." Layla spits out. "Watch what you say, Layla. He has ears everywhere." I tell her and sway a little on my feet. "Corky damnit girl, you really need to lie off that shit," Layla shays at me. "Only if I could find another way not to feel I would, Layla." "Corky girl, why won't you get your GED? Carry your ass to college... and get the hell out of New York, away from this shit." Layla says for the 100th time. She tells me the same shit every night. She has since I was 18, and first started prostituting for Martin, our sleaze-bag pimp. I'm smart enough I could get my GED, and get into a community college, and make something of myself, but would Martin let me go? I'm one of his highest paid prostitutes. "Corky, look alive, baby girl. Here comes some action, Layla says," breaking me out of my daydream. "Oh, joy!" Here we go. "Hey there, handsome... what'll be tonight?" I say, leaning into the passenger window. It's a nice-looking older gentleman in his mid-40's not someone you would think you would see picking up a prostitute for an hour. "I would like to rent you for the hour." "Rent me?" This guy has done nothing like this in his life. Poor fucking sap. "Um, sweetheart, you don't rent us. You buy us for as long as you need us. We do whatever you want in that time frame and the price starts at $50 dollars and goes up from there, I tell him." "That's doable he tells me." Then he just sets there for a minute like he's not too sure what to do about the information I just gave him. "Okay sweetheart, if you want to do this, then I have to get into your car. Then we will go to a motel or somewhere and that's where the real fun will begin," I tell him. "Oh, yes, right, sure? Um, get in and then we can figure out where we will go for the night," he tells me, so I open the passenger door and climb in." Your first time I ask him?" "That obvious, huh?" "Yes," I smile at him, "but that's okay. So, what are you looking for tonight?" I ask him, then I kind of glance around his car and find a damn car seat in the back seat of his car. Really, man? "So, you and your wife just had a baby, huh?" "Oh, um, I'd rather not talk about that, if you don't mind."
His Unwanted Wife: The Genius Perfumer

His Unwanted Wife: The Genius Perfumer

For three years, Breanna gave up her brilliant career as a top-tier perfumer to be the perfect housewife for her billionaire husband, Hartwell. But when he finally returned from a three-month business trip to Paris, he didn't even glance at the dinner she had carefully prepared. Instead, he threw a divorce agreement on the table. He gave her thirty days to move out and offered a ridiculously low settlement. When she cried and asked if there was someone else, he looked at her with absolute disgust. "You used to smell like ambition and possibility. Now you smell like cooking oil and the desperation of a woman who has nothing outside her husband. You're a trap." He threatened to bury her in legal fees if she didn't sign. Heartbroken and confused, Breanna forced his assistant to reveal what really happened in Paris. The truth was humiliating. Hartwell had been spending all his time with a twenty-six-year-old genius perfumer—a girl who was the exact mirror image of who Breanna used to be before she sacrificed everything for him. He didn't just want a new woman. He wanted a younger, untainted replacement of her past self. Wiping away her tears, Breanna's grief instantly hardened into cold, calculated rage. She tore up his insulting settlement and prepared to fight back, completely unaware that her cruel husband was currently hiding in a hotel room, coughing up blood, deliberately playing the villain to force her to survive his impending death.
Obsessing with My Brother's Best Friend

Obsessing with My Brother's Best Friend

The man's expression was indifferent, his facial features sharp and well-defined. A faint smile played on his lips, but it never reached his eyes, making him appear gentle yet unapproachable. His slightly upturned peach blossom eyes held light brown irises, exuding a hint of allure when his gaze was lowered. Completely different from her brother's deep black eyes. She had expected to see her brother, but instead, she was met with a stranger, while her brother was nowhere to be found. For a moment, Lily's mind went blank, unsure of how to react. The scene seemed frozen in time. Neither of them moved. Before long, the man lowered his eyes again, slowly and methodically extinguishing his cigarette, his demeanor relaxed and lazy. He didn't seem inclined to speak, remaining silent as he got up to open the window for ventilation. Watching his actions, Lily, feeling lost, hesitantly called out, "...Brother?" That was their first meeting. Later, she would come to understand that he was her brother's best friend. At thirteen, Lily secretly fell for a man. The man had a cold and lazy air about him, spoke with a casual drawl, and often came to her house, spending entire afternoons in her brother's room playing video games. Whenever she went in to deliver fruit or snacks, he would lazily lift his gaze, smiling devilishly, "Kid, what's up with you? You blush every time you see me."