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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
When Love Became A Plot

When Love Became A Plot

Three years ago, Liam Hayes, the tech titan and my husband, promised to protect me. Now, I sat in the front row of his grand auction, expecting a product launch. Instead, the massive screen behind him flickered to life, not with an innovation, but with intimate photos of my deceased parents. The crowd' s murmurs turned to horrified whispers, their pity a suffocating blanket of shame. He was crucifying their memory, and I, his perfect, supportive wife, trembled with silent agony. When I pleaded with him to take the photos down, his eyes, once so full of warmth, were chillingly empty. "Everything has a price, Ava," he said, holding out a kidney donation consent form. "Donate a kidney to Skylar Vance, and I' ll end this. Their honor for her life. A fair trade." My breath hitched. He was using my dead parents, my most precious memory, to blackmail me, and I had no choice. As I signed, I remembered a secret vow we' d made-a desperate promise to defy a "plot" that dictated he'd leave me for Skylar. He' d sworn he' d fight it, that his heart was always mine. But now, as I was wheeled into surgery, I saw him kiss Skylar' s hand, a look of sacred devotion in his eyes-the same look he used to give me. The mask came down, and I knew: the plot had won. When I woke, alone and empty, the first call I heard was not from him, but from my heartbroken housekeeper. My parents, humiliated by Liam's stunt, had taken their own lives. The man I loved, the man who was supposed to be my protector, had destroyed everything. Now, standing at their desecrated graves, watching him cuddle Skylar, I knew my only path was to disappear forever.
The Between Love And Hate

The Between Love And Hate

I'm tired. It's not just because Chanel and I fought with Rius. I know he will choose her and not me. And I know that he will be more angry when he finds out that I was the reason why Chanel was rushed to the hospital. I didn't mean what happened but I feel that he won't believe me either, because the circulation between me and his best friend is always like that, I don't want to be jealous because at least he's young but why does there have to be a choice? Is he always? Why does he always have to come first when it comes to the two of us? This is so unfair. And it makes me feel like I'm the one who's a third party. That's why when the door of his penthouse opened and he was the one who opened it, I immediately stood up from my seat. "Where have you been?" I asked him. He didn't answer. He just went straight, got some water, drank it and put the glass down on the sink without even looking at me. "Are you from him?" I asked weakly. His tired eyes looked at me. It was full of emotions. Anger, regret, and most of all remorse. "What did you do to him?" He asked me. His voice was cold and full of fatigue, and pain. "I didn't—" "You hurt her!" He cut me off. I was so shocked about his sudden outburst. The glass he was holding fell and hit the floor. "I didn't hurt her.... I'm j-just—" "You just?..." He asked strongly, very angry and stepped closer to me. "You hurt her with your words! You know she has Leukemia! But what did you do!" I've never seen him this angry. If I was only a boy, maybe he would have hurt me. And d*mn it! My tears started to fall. I'm crying in front of him. The thought of him will hurt me just because of Chanel made my heart break into pieces.
An Infinite Love

An Infinite Love

She loved her husband. She gave him everything, without hesitation, offering her heart, her soul, and her dreams. But he was nothing but a receiver, never a giver. He took without ever giving back, feeding off her affection and sacrifices. He was selfish, and every gesture she made for him seemed like a mere formality to satisfy his needs. He was never there for her, except when it served him. The only things he offered were confusion. He gave her empty promises, sweet words that rang hollow. He offered manipulation, ideals disguised as his "undeniable love," but in reality, he only loved one person: himself. She adored him, but he saw in her nothing more than a tool to fill his inner emptiness. He had invaded her mind to the point where, when he proposed an open relationship, he made her believe it was her idea, seducing her with subtle words. She wanted to believe him, convincing herself that it was a step of compromise, a sacrifice for the love he claimed to have for her. But deep down, she knew it wasn't what she wanted. She wanted him, and only him. He wanted her, and all the others he could get, all those who would feed his insatiable need for power and domination. But all of that changed when Tobias Wrexler entered their lives. His intense gaze, his silent yet powerful presence, brought a turning point in her life. The shadow of her husband suddenly seemed far less threatening in the light that Tobias brought.
My Wife, My Tormentor

My Wife, My Tormentor

For five years, my wife Seraphina' s 'purity' defined my existence. My days were a relentless cycle of scrubbing, proving I was 'clean' enough for her. This pristine, empty marriage felt like a lifelong sentence. Then, a faint love bite on her collarbone sparked a flicker of doubt, quickly replaced by horror when I overheard her chilling phone call. My wife wasn' t just cruel; she was auctioning me off. The 'Ethan Experience' she chirped, chilling me to the bone. Those excruciating 'cleansings' weren't about her mysophobia; they were about erasing me for her lover, Julian. My raw, burning skin wasn't from clumsiness, but industrial-strength soaps meant to wipe away any trace of me. They filmed me, naked, for a pre-auction 'preview,' inviting a crowd of socialites to watch. My wife, the woman who claimed disgust at my touch, was selling me like property. The night arrived, and I found myself sedated, stripped, and pushed into a glass room, the auctioneer's voice already booming my 'unveiling.' How could the woman I vowed to protect turn me into a living spectacle, a commodity of contempt? The betrayal was a physical ache, the humiliation a crushing weight. Was this truly my fate, to be auctioned off, utterly broken and shamed? All for a man who claimed to be 'allergic' to me, a lie she orchestrated for five years. Just as the curtain began to rise, a familiar, commanding voice cut through the haze. My godmother, Eleanor Vance, a formidable force, burst in, holding the annulment papers I thought I'd never need. My escape began not with a fight, but with a signature, as my dignity was finally restored. That night, I didn't become a spectacle; I became free.