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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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."
D.E.A.F

D.E.A.F

Fate , destiny , Divine Decree and so on.People believe , depend on it and some who refuse to do it. Some say it is God's will.However, the lives of a few are centered around a person who draws and connects their destiny. A young girl called by the name Jxuddi Clend Cea , who grew up sweet and gentle. However , her life will take a huge turn day all her dreams became a unforgettable nightmare.That happened after meeting Jyller Ford Vansmith , a kind and strong young man.Who rely his life to fights , strength and title doesn't even really know on how his path became empty and filled with uncertainty. He whose life crumbles and has a big change leads him to a life that either he will be grateful with or regret it. The both of them will struggle ups and downs , even death at most of their journey in finding their way linking them to each other. Along with their friends and family who either help them get through every obstacle or be the wall separating and bring them down further. A story which does not flow only to the main character but also tells the events of the people surrounding the protagonist;Story of past , present and how each one of them move forward to write their own future. As they continue their life , will they be able to accomplish whatever they desire? When they learn about the nightmare that dwells in their "Fate Maker"? As well the struggle she was through caused as she encountered every single one of them. How would they feel? How will they handle it? What sort of way will they help her surpass the terror she hid deep within their precious friend? Are they strong enough? Are they brave enough? What kind of risk would they be able to bet to keep the promise they've bestowed themselves? Will they be able to save her or will they let her suffer furthermore?
My Unexpected Billionaire Husband

My Unexpected Billionaire Husband

"You are the noble and stunning second female lead, married to the CEO of a multinational corporation. But you couldn't help but fall for the childhood sweetheart male lead, plotting against the innocent female lead. In the end, the male lead and female lead live happily ever after, while you are abandoned by your husband and family, dying miserably." After traveled into the angsty romance novel she was reading and became the same-named supporting character, Sarah didn't want to follow the original plot. She stayed away from the male and female leads and moved back to her husband's place, establishing her role as a married woman. She only knew that the multinational CEO Holden was a steady and mature business tycoon, with a stern and noble demeanor, ruthless and unscrupulous in his actions. Their marriage was purely a business arrangement, and he gave her a black card to spend freely, as long as she didn't bother him. To Sarah, Holden was her "sugar daddy", more important than anything, and she was terrified he might overwork himself to death one day. Ronald, the male lead, realized that the once-adoring Sarah no longer paid him any attention, he called to confess his feelings, but she refused to answer. Then one day, Holden pressed Sarah down on his lap, his voice low and husky, "If you keep loving Ronald, I'll make sure his entire family goes bankrupt."
The Heiress Undone: A Politician's Ruin

The Heiress Undone: A Politician's Ruin

The D&C procedure was over, a cold finality to the grief already heavy on my shoulders from my parents' recent death. As I clutched their ashes, I called my husband, Ethan, a rising political star, needing him more than ever. His assistant, Sabrina, coldly told me he was too busy, later revealing his fury that I' d even suggest divorce. His anger boiled over when I finally told him I was done, not realizing the deep well of my despair. He'd sworn he wasn't divorcing me, his voice sharp and dismissive, just as he had dismissed my pain for years. I still remember the day my heart turned to stone: Sabrina "accidentally" knocking over the urn holding the ashes of our first lost baby, and Ethan rushing to comfort her, then turning to me, his eyes full of irritation, telling me to "get over it." But the truth was far more insidious, lurking beneath his carefully crafted image. An anonymous email, an audio file revealing his chilling plan, had shattered any lingering hope or trust. His calm, clear voice: "...She' s useful for that, at least." Useful. He meant my body, my unborn child, a living incubator to harvest cord blood for Sabrina' s dying sister. My baby wasn't a crop. My body wasn't a field to be plowed for his convenience. The decision was instant, brutal, and mine alone. I signed the divorce papers, the only certainty I had left in a world that had crumbled around me. And then, I knew, it was time to leave.
Love After the Betrayal

Love After the Betrayal

The scent of lilies and hairspray usually meant joy, but for me, Abigail Turner, on what was supposed to be my wedding day, it was a suffocating prelude to disaster. I stood in my bridal gown, gazing into an ornate mirror, my heart a storm. Then Brandon Hayes, my fiancé, walked in, his eyes cold and distant. He took his mother' s diamond necklace, an heirloom he' d given me, straight from my neck. "I need that back," he said, his voice flat. Before I could process the shock, my cousin, Seraphina Vance, appeared, clutching an overnight bag, her eyes red-rimmed. Without a word, Brandon fastened the necklace around her neck. My future, my life, was now hers. "I can' t marry you, Abby," Brandon declared, his voice devoid of emotion. "The wedding is canceled." Then, he looked at Seraphina, his voice softening. "I' m marrying Seraphina. Today." Just like that, my own cousin, who should have been my bridesmaid, was taking my place. "Why?" I managed to choke out. Brandon sighed, as if burdened by immense self-pity. "It' s for the good of the family. There' s a curse, Abby. A psychic told Seraphina' s mother. If I don' t marry her, something terrible will happen." Seraphina sniffled, burying her face in his chest. "I' m so sorry, Abby. I didn' t want this." He held her tight, then looked back at me, his eyes filled with a bizarre pity. "It' s just for a few years, Abby. Once the danger from the curse has passed, I' ll divorce her. Just wait for me. You' ll always be the one I love." The absurdity of his words was staggering. He wanted me to wait. My family rushed in, drawn by the commotion. My mother' s face paled at the scene: me in my dress, Brandon holding Seraphina, the necklace on the wrong neck. Everyone expected tears, screams, pleas. But a strange calm washed over me. The heartbreak was a cold, hard stone in my chest, but my mind was clear. I looked at Brandon, the man I thought I would spend my life with, and saw a stranger-a weak, arrogant man easily manipulated by my jealous cousin. I turned to my father, my voice steady and firm. "Dad, do you remember the arrangement with the Beaumont family in Europe?" His eyes widened in shock. "Abby, you don' t mean…" "I do," I said. "Call them. Tell them I accept." Silence fell over the room. My life as Abigail "Abby" Turner ended in that moment. The next day, I was on a plane to Europe. Five years later, the world knows me as Ava Beaumont. I am a respected art curator, happily married, and six months pregnant. I am back in the United States for the first time in five years, for my husband William' s grandfather' s ninetieth birthday. And I am a completely different woman.
Too Late for Her Regrets

Too Late for Her Regrets

The world came back in pieces: gasoline, twisted metal, and a searing pain in my leg. Through the shattered windshield, I saw my wife, Olivia, scramble not to me, her injured husband, but to the passenger door, frantic over our "assistant," Liam. She cradled his head, her voice filled with a tenderness she hadn't shown me in years. "Liam? Liam, can you hear me? Oh my god, you're bleeding." Ignoring my gasps, she finally looked at me with pure irritation: "Ethan. Your phone. Call an ambulance. Liam is hurt." The cold clarity hit me: I didn't exist for her. Then, in the hospital, I learned my leg was shattered, and Olivia's first words concerned the hospital bill, not my well-being. Liam, she announced, was out with a concussion, making our household a "disaster." I was just a logistical problem. As she left, a nurse brought "my favorite chicken soup," supposedly from Olivia. But Liam's Instagram later showed the identical thermos, captioned: "Best boss in the world! Nothing like Olivia's homemade chicken soup to make you feel better." It was never for me. The final blow came when I found a positive pregnancy test and a receipt for a "Surgical Procedure" in Olivia's hidden box, dated the same week she claimed a "solo business retreat." She'd been pregnant with Liam's child and terminated it, all while pushing me to continue IVF. The numbness shattered. My marriage, my decade of love, was a cruel, pathetic joke. Now, amidst the wreckage of my shattered life, I picked up my phone, my hands steady, and dialed the fertility clinic, then a divorce lawyer. It was time for my truth.