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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Isabelle's Downfall: A Twisted Love Story

Isabelle's Downfall: A Twisted Love Story

Tomorrow, I, Ethan Reed, was set to marry Isabelle Davenport, the exquisite old-money bride who promised a future of prestige and endless possibilities. Our lavish rehearsal dinner glowed with anticipation, my parents beaming with pride as their "new money" son married into established aristocracy. Then, a chilling phone call shattered everything. "I'm pregnant, Ethan," Isabelle whispered, "It's Liam's." My world tilted, instantly replaced by a wave of nausea and disbelief. She didn't stop there. Isabelle demanded I postpone the wedding indefinitely, quit my career to support them, and even insisted their relationship be openly acknowledged, with Liam, her step-brother and the baby's father, moving into our condo. The next indignity: she had my belongings, including my beloved grandmother's irreplaceable quilt, dumped on the curb, then maliciously desecrated the quilt itself with cigarette burns. The final blow came when Liam staged a pathetic suicide attempt, and Isabelle, her eyes blazing, tried to force me to apologize, even offering me a letter opener to "understand his pain" by cutting myself. How could the woman I loved be so utterly manipulative, so cruelly deluded? My future, meticulously planned, lay in toxic ruins. But amidst the devastation, a memory resurfaced, a lifeline in the darkness. Today was my 30th birthday. And a childhood pact with my best friend, Chloe: "If you hit the big three-oh still single, Ethan Reed, you're mine. We marry each other. Deal?" Just as I stood broken, she appeared, the small gift in her hand, her eyes clear and steady. "A deal's a deal, Ethan," she said, cutting through the ash of my ruined life. "Marry me, Ethan. In three days. I'll handle everything."
More Than Ashes

More Than Ashes

The smell of smoke woke me up, a thick, acrid scent clinging to my throat. My heart pounded as sirens pierced the night, a chilling prelude. Three missed calls from Marco, my dad's sous chef. "It' s the restaurant. It' s… there was a fire." I ran, the air growing thick with the smell of burning wood and something chemical, something awful. My world shattered when I saw it: the hollowed-out shell of "The Amber Hearth," my parents' restaurant, my entire life, consumed by flames. A police officer stopped me, but I could only stare at the wreckage, the place my parents worked, lived, and breathed. Weeks later, I was living with Chloe, my food critic girlfriend, in her pristine, minimalist apartment. She supported me, made calls, held me when nightmares struck. "We'll get through this together," she promised. But that promise felt hollow when the simple click-click-whoosh of a gas stove sent me stumbling in terror, and she quickly turned it off, her embrace distant even as she whispered, "I'll be here for you." The cracks widened when she abandoned our quiet anniversary dinner, again, for Daniel, her 'anxiety-ridden' former mentor. "He needs me, Liam," she'd always say, framing his alleged illness as a virtue, my need for her as a selfish demand. I watched her move, efficient and precise, realizing I was just an obligation, a managed crisis she was bored with. Then, a text from my friend: Chloe's rave review of Daniel's new menu just dropped, a "Triumph of a Troubled Genius." The publication date? Last night. Our anniversary. She wasn' t working; she was dining with him, relaunching his career. The anger burned clean and hot; her entire compassionate façade was a calculated deception. When she walked in, I confronted her, the ugly truth filling her perfectly curated apartment: she chose him, lied to me, used my grief as cover. Her icy response, "If that's how you feel, then maybe you should leave," was all I needed. I left. Days later, I saw him letting himself into her apartment, confirming the sickening truth: I was just a convenient cover for their secret affair, a grieving fool in their shared territory. I had defended her, pushed away friends who tried to warn me, all for a lie. My anger, humiliation, and shame fused into a chilling resolve. I wasn't just heartbroken; I was done. This wasn't a relationship; it was a fraud. And now, armed with the brutal truth, I had to build something new, far from her memory.
The Cold CEO's Secret Contract Bride

The Cold CEO's Secret Contract Bride

Fresh out of prison and facing a parole violation, Candace Price was kicked onto the streets by her abusive aunt. To avoid going back to a cell, she accepted a desperate lifeline: marrying her former mentor's son, a supposedly ordinary supermarket manager named Gauge Bailey. But right after they signed the papers, this "simple" manager handed her the keys to a multi-million-dollar penthouse at The Elysian Towers. Before she could even question his bizarre wealth, her new mother-in-law faked a medical emergency. From her hospital bed, the older woman slapped a priceless heirloom jade bracelet on Candace's wrist. "I need to know the family line is secure. You have three months to get pregnant." Suffocating under the pressure of being treated like a mere breeding vessel, Candace tried to reach out to her new husband. Instead, she discovered he had deliberately declined her contact request and completely erased her number from his phone. The humiliation hit her like a physical blow. Why agree to this marriage if he held her in such utter contempt? And who exactly was this cold, imposing stranger who lived in a billionaire's playground while claiming to stock grocery shelves? Staring at the rejected notification on her screen, a cold, hard resolve settled in Candace's chest. She slid the heavy jade bracelet off her wrist and locked it away in a dark drawer. If he wanted a sham marriage, she would play along. She would use his penthouse and his name to build her own independence, and when the time came, she would be the one to walk away.
The Wife He Sold

The Wife He Sold

My fiancé, Mark, whispered promises of forever, of a family, as we lay in bed watching the sunrise. He said he loved me, and I believed him with every fiber of my being. I built my world around him, his happiness my only goal. Then, I found his journal. Page after page, he wrote about Chloe, his childhood sweetheart, with a desperate, passionate love he never showed me. It was dated a week after he proposed to me. I wasn't his love; I was a placeholder, someone convenient to fund his lifestyle and soothe his ego while he waited for his true love to be available. The gentleness was a tool, his promises a means to an end. My heart shattered into a million pieces. Then Chloe' s husband died, and her family went bankrupt. Mark brought her to our home, demanding she stay. When I finally defied him, telling him she couldn't stay, he went into a rage. The next day, two rough men arrived. I thought they were there to evict me, but they grabbed me, dragging me from my home. "A lesson in obedience, Sarah," Mark had said, adjusting my collar as they held me. "You're tougher. Three days. I'll get the money and come for you. Just be a good girl." But he never came. I was thrown into a dark, reeking basement – an underground fight club. There, I learned the true meaning of his betrayal. He didn't just abandon me; he sold me, leaving me for dead, all to punish me for standing in his way. I barely escaped, a ghost of my former self. When I stumbled back home, I found him celebrating, bragging about how I had been "broken in." Sarah Miller died that night. Three years later, I faced him across a crowded ballroom, his gaze freezing on mine. He rushed towards me, murmuring, "Sarah? Is that you? Do you know I've been searching for you for three years!" But the broken girl was gone. I leaned into the warm, solid figure beside me, a cool smile on my face. "Mr. Stevens," I said, "we're not close. Please don't let my husband get the wrong idea."
Your Love Is Gone

Your Love Is Gone

"Jason can we talk for a while," I said to him. Just spell it, I have a date with Celine." hastily said. "Jason, I'm pregnant with you," I stated. How did that happen, I don't know what you're talking about." He said. What you don't know, you did it and then you don't know." I said raspingly. I was drunk then, I didn't know what I was doing." He reasoned. "Why didn't you stop me, when was that time, because you wanted it too, now, you're going to accuse me of liking you." he insisted. I don't know why you are acting like that Jason, but I will tell the truth that I am pregnant and you are the father. Why am I lying to you, for what," I said, my tears started to fall, I just held them back, I don't want Him to see me weak. "One more thing, I didn't know that what I drank was mixed with s*x drugs, I also didn't know what happened." I added. "That, I didn't know at first, maybe it was with another man. You just asked me to do it because you can't take responsibility." He promised. "Are you out of your mind Jason, If you are not the father of what I am pregnant with now, you think I will approach you now, will I let you know." I said annoyed. "I don't know if that's really mine, I'm not responsible for that either, because Celine is also pregnant." He said with doubt. I couldn't stand what He was telling me, So I slapped It, I couldn't stop my tears from falling anymore. "If I were you, we wouldn't have a problem, just abort Yan, it's total blood all the time." He added. I slapped Jason again, because I was angry with him, for what he was saying to be our son, in his stomach, he was killing him. "Your mind is so narrow. You will kill your own son." I smiled brightly. "It's really easy for you to say that, because you didn't really love me a bit, because of the two of us, I'm the only one who loves you." I said as my tears fell. "Don't worry this is the last time we'll talk, I won't mess up your life, then I won't mess up yours either Celine, starting now we're strangers." I promise even though it hurts my feelings. I felt pain inside of me, but I need to be strong for my baby. "I'll avoid you too, I don't want Celine to get mad at me, just follow what I told you so you won't have any problems, me too, We must act like we're strangers, we didn't know each other, forget it Just because we went through something, I will also forget you.." He told me without emotion. I also felt a pain while he was telling me that, it really just proves that in the few years we will be in a relationship, I will be the only one who loves him. For almost four years, we're in a relationship, I'm the only one who truly loves him, It's just because of me, so that he can be close to Celine, whom he truly loves, I'm the only one who made me a bridge between the two. We're best friends before with Celine, but accidentally I found out the relationship between the two. I have also let go of being friends with him, because he treats me differently, I have also avoided him. I don't want trouble. " We're totally broken, I hope we don't cross our paths, if that happens just act we're strangers, I'm setting you free. I hope you love Celine like I did to you." my farewell said to him. I'm Jackie Duterte, a college student who fell in love with a man, who didn't love her back. She's taking BSA, bachelor of science in Agriculture. Jason Martin, a ruthless man, a college student too. Currently taking up bachelor of science and criminology. Attractive man, tall, tan skin, also has a sharp nose..
His Faked Death, Her Real Grief

His Faked Death, Her Real Grief

I woke up, reborn into my transactional marriage with Amelia, flooded with agonizing memories of my past life – how I, Ethan Miller, shamefully used her, flaunted an affair, and never saw her fierce, hidden love until my dying breath. This time, I vowed to right every wrong, to love her as she truly deserved. But my chance at atonement shattered when Amelia, my chillingly cold wife, threatened my parents' retirement savings. She forced my mother, Sarah, to undergo a dangerous bone marrow transplant for Julian Vance, her beloved artist, leaving me locked away, utterly helpless. After Julian's surgery, Amelia's calculated cruelty escalated into a nightmare. She flaunted Julian, mocked my every attempt at change, deliberately poisoned me, and then subjected me to brutal "re-education" – electroshock, scalding my hand with boiling water. When Julian framed me for her grandfather's injury, Amelia' s chilling rage turned into an unimaginable ordeal, culminating in her threatening my innocent parents' lives, dangling them over a dangerous precipice. How could this be the same woman who died fighting for me? The Amelia I' d come back to cherish, whose love I desperately wanted to earn, had become a terrifying stranger, a monstrous tormentor. Was she reborn too, driven by past pain, or had she simply become pure evil? As the horrifying truth of her unadulterated hatred dawned on me, and my parents' lives hung in the balance, my vow of atonement dissolved. There was only one way out, one final act of self-preservation: I had to fake my own death, vanish, and ensure Amelia believed I was gone forever.