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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Running From The Amnesiac Billionaire Tyrant

Running From The Amnesiac Billionaire Tyrant

Aliya woke up in a dingy, freezing apartment with a throbbing headache, only to realize a horrifying truth. She had transmigrated into the American romance novel she read just last night, becoming the ultimate vicious supporting character. The exhausted man walking through the front door was Cyrus Pace, an amnesiac billionaire currently living under the delusion that he was a broke laborer. The original owner had trapped him with fabricated memories of being childhood sweethearts. Worse, she relentlessly abused him. Her phone was filled with toxic texts calling him a useless loser, and she had just staged a psychotic hunger strike to force him to buy a designer bag. Cyrus already looked at her with bone-deep, visceral disgust. In the original plot, the moment he regained his memory, his ruthless revenge would send her straight to a maximum-security prison for the rest of her life. "Are you done playing your hunger strike game?" Hearing his cold, mocking voice, the sheer terror made Aliya's blood run cold. How was she supposed to survive living with a future tyrant who already despised her? Every time his massive shadow fell over their cramped, shared mattress, her heart stopped. A single wrong move—even a microscopic mistake like accidentally crossing a physical line—would completely seal her doom. Staring at the torn box of condoms hidden under the bed, Aliya made a desperate, life-or-death decision. She had to completely rewrite her toxic persona, secretly hustle a high-commission real estate job, and save enough money to flee the country before the billionaire remembered exactly who he was.
THE BILLIONAIRE'S PHOENIX

THE BILLIONAIRE'S PHOENIX

VANESSA They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But for me, that's not enough. I want it to hit so hard they beg for their lives. Five years ago, my own husband left me to die in a fire. I watched him walk away, his eyes full of hate. In my last moments, I thought about how unfair it was, that I was dying while the people who did wrong were free. As if some higher power heard me, I was saved. Now, I'm back and my only purpose is to give Ethan Croft exactly what he deserves. He took everything from me, and now I will take everything he loves, in the most painful way possible. I have it all planned out. But there's something or someone else I didn't plan on. Ceron Morrison. He's tall, dark, and dangerously handsome. He's a mystery and a distraction I can't afford. He's a threat to the revenge I have sworn to complete. But no matter what comes my way, I'll make Ethan pay. I'll burn his entire world to the ground, even if it means I get burned in the flames, too. CERON Vanessa Ashford has taken over my mind without even trying. The first time I saw her, she was putting a thief on the ground at the airport with a single, perfect kick. I was captivated. As the heir to a powerful family, I'm used to getting anything I want. And I want her. I want to know her secrets. Vanessa has built high walls around herself, but I am not a quitter. As I slowly peel back the layers, I'm discovering a past filled with pain. I can see the fire of vengeance burning in her eyes, a fire so strong it could destroy her. My family wants me to secure our legacy with a sensible, strategic marriage. But all I can think about is the woman who wears her revenge like a custom-made gown. I know I should walk away. But something in me can't stand the thought of her facing the darkness alone. The real question is, when she finally plays her last card, will I be the one to save her? Or will I just become another victim caught in the crossfire?
Her Vengeance is a Silent Waltz

Her Vengeance is a Silent Waltz

My sister was dying, and my husband, Alex, refused to let me see her. "Diamond's comfort is my priority," he said over the phone, his voice cold. "She's not comfortable with you there." Diamond. The woman who supposedly took a bullet for him. A debt he was repaying with my life. His repayment plan had already cost me my future. He stood by impassively as I was forced to sign sterilization papers, ensuring Diamond, who claimed the bullet had left her barren, would never have to see him have a child with another woman. They smeared my name in the press, painting me as an unstable addict whose "violent outburst" led to my sister's hospitalization. At the funeral they planned without me, they announced their plan to send me to a "facility" for my own good. The night before their wedding, he came home drunk. He grabbed me, his hands roaming my body in a grotesque parody of intimacy, and whispered her name. "Diamond." Something inside me finally shattered. I shoved him off me, screaming my own name. The next morning, Diamond stood on our doorstep, a triumphant smile on her face, calling me a barren, washed-up musician who couldn't even keep her own sister alive. Looking at them, the monster and his master, I felt nothing but a cold, clear resolve. I turned and walked away from the wreckage of my life. It was time to erase Erica Wade and build someone new. Someone who would burn their world to the ground.
Too Late For Apologies, Andrew

Too Late For Apologies, Andrew

My husband, Andrew, a promising politician, asked me for a divorce for the eighth time. It was always the same drill: his 'childhood best friend,' Gabby, would throw a tantrum, threaten his mayoral campaign, and he' d oblige, promising to "fix it later." This time, the exhaustion was bone-deep, but when we sat in our lawyer' s office, something felt different. Chloe, the paralegal, grimly asked if she should schedule the reconciliation filing for next month, as usual. "There won't be a next time," I heard myself say, shocking even myself. But Andrew, ever the politician, just gave a weak, placating excuse about calming Gabby, just like always. Later, I walked into our brownstone to find Gabby and Andrew in the kitchen, laughing amidst a flour-dusted mess. My obsessively neat husband, covered in flour, asked if I could whip up Gabby's favorite coq au vin. "No," I said, a word that felt foreign on my tongue. Andrew' s face flushed; he shoved me, then dragged me by the arm and locked me in the dusty pantry, telling me I' d stay there until I learned to be "a supportive wife." Hours later, Gabby opened the door, sneered, and drenched me with a bucket of ice water. Something inside me, long dormant, snapped. I lunged, swung the empty bucket, and caught her head with a dull thud. Andrew rushed in, saw Gabby crying, grabbed a handful of my wet hair, and roared, "You crazy bitch! Apologize to her, or get the hell out of my house right now!" "Okay," I said, pulling out my phone. He looked confused. "Okay, what?" "Okay, I'll get out." I finally dialed Wesley, my old architecture mentor, the man Andrew had demanded I cut out of my life years ago. "Wesley?" I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. "Can you... can you come get me?" He didn' t ask why. "Send me the address. I'm on my way." This time, there was no turning back.
Substitute Bride: Healing The Ruthless Heir

Substitute Bride: Healing The Ruthless Heir

Serena's stepmother forced her to take her cousin's place and marry the Beaumont family heir. Everyone in New York knew Felix Beaumont was a disfigured, crippled madman after a horrific car crash. To ensure her compliance, her ruthless family completely emptied her little brother's medical trust fund. Her brother was lying in the ICU, and the hospital was ordered to stop his life-saving medication the very next day. Her cousin mocked her as a piece of trash, and her uncle laughed in her face when she demanded her rightful inheritance. When she arrived at the Beaumont estate, the old madam treated her like a defective product and ordered a humiliating purity check by armed guards. Even Felix, her new husband, pulled a silver handgun on her on their wedding night, threatening to execute her for being a cheap replacement. They all thought she was just a weak, desperate girl they could easily manipulate and crush to death. They believed she had no choice but to suffer their abuse in silence to keep her brother alive. But nobody knew Serena was actually a highly trained operative hiding a lethal past. When Felix suddenly collapsed from a deadly military-grade neurotoxin, Serena didn't panic or cry. She effortlessly pinned the untouchable billionaire to the floor, pulled out her silver needles, and saved his life. Looking down at the shocked monster of New York, she offered a cold smirk. "I can fix your dead legs, but you work for me now."
29 Days With The Devil's Son

29 Days With The Devil's Son

"Arthur! Arthur! Please come back!" Ava said within, but as usual; Arthur heard her. She begin to cry, and instead of tears to come out, it was blood. " Your Majesty!" Ira said and bowed slightly. " What is happening to her? Are you going to stand there without doing anything? Or do you want me to lose my mind?" He roared. " No your Majesty! Right away!" Ira said and hurried to the door. He opened it and walked out, rushing to his room. Arthur unfold his hand gently, and wiped off the sweat from his forehead. Then turned to Ava. His popped out of it socket at the sight he beheld again. There's blood all over Ava's face, and she's trying to move her hand. Arthur rushed to her and grabbed her hands. " Ava!! Ava!" He called repeatedly, but she couldn't answer, because she didn't hear him. But she felt his touch, and was able to speak in her mind. " Is that you your Majesty? Are you back?" She asked, but Arthur was too shock to say anything. He used his hand and wiped off the blood from her face, but surprisingly; as he did that, Ava's fleshed peeled off. " Huh!" Arthur blurt out in shock, and shifted away a bit. " Who are you?" Ava said within. " It's me, can you hear me Ava? Ava!!" He called, but he didn't reply. " What's going on?" Arthur said within and tears slipped out from his eyes again. Ava Robertson is a lady of 22 years old, who was forced into a contract by her Aunt, since she wasn't able to pay her the debt she owned her. Ava sign the contract successfully, and left with the man, unknown to her that he's the son of the devil. Her life wasn't the same anymore when she got there. It's all pain and misery. Enemies surrounded her like flocks, but there seems to be no way for escape.
Heart's Sorrow Unboxed

Heart's Sorrow Unboxed

The world slammed back into me in a dizzying rush. One moment, oblivion. The next, I was back in a familiar bed, the sun warm, the scent of roses faint. My heart seized at the June 12th calendar-the day it all began to unravel in my first life, the day before Richard announced he was funneling our savings into his first love' s art gallery. Then he walked in, handsome and dismissive, still my husband, yet a stranger. The sight of him brought nothing but a hollow echo. I stood by the fireplace, a silent observer as Vivian Hayes, ethereal and artfully fragile, entered the room, captivating Richard with a tenderness he' d never shown me. Later, the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place: a beautifully wrapped gift, a silver hairpin "Heart' s Sorrow," a sketch Vivian had made, fumbled into my hands by a clearly distracted Richard. My husband had handed me a gift meant for his artistic mistress, the one he had always loved more. The bitter taste of betrayal choked me. This time, I closed the box and pushed it back across the table. "I think you' ve made a mistake," I said, my voice clear as a bell, shattering the forced cheer of the family dinner. The silence was deafening, Margaret' s smile frozen, Richard' s jaw tight, Vivian' s face a mask of shock. I placed my napkin on the table, the desire for divorce no longer a desperate plea, but a cold, final business decision. "If you'll excuse me," I said, walking away from the stunned table, leaving behind the wreckage of a life I was no longer willing to live. I was alive, I was back, and this time, I was going to rewrite my own story.