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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Purple love

Purple love

In the vibrant tale of "Purple Love," readers are invited into a world where love knows no bounds, sacrifice is a testament to strength, and a mother's devotion transcends all obstacles. Set against the rich tapestry of familial traditions and personal struggles, Sofia's journey unfolds with gripping intensity and unwavering resolve. Sofia, a woman of indomitable spirit, finds herself entwined in a web of love and turmoil, her heart torn between tradition and the fierce desire to protect her child. Her husband, Emaka, embodies both the steadfastness of tradition and the complexities of modernity, his presence casting a shadow over Sofia's quest for freedom and self-discovery. As Sofia navigates the intricate maze of familial expectations and personal aspirations, she must confront the harsh realities of her circumstances and the sacrifices demanded of her. With each twist and turn, she is faced with impossible choices that test the limits of her courage and resilience. But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, Sofia discovers a strength within herself that she never knew existed—a strength born of unwavering love for her child and an unyielding determination to carve out a better future. With every step forward, she defies the constraints of convention and defies the odds stacked against her. "Purple Love" is a poignant testament to the power of love, sacrifice, and the enduring bonds that hold us together. Through Sofia's journey, readers will be swept away on a tumultuous ride filled with heartache, triumph, and the enduring hope that even in the darkest of times, love will always prevail.
My Sacred Reckoning

My Sacred Reckoning

For years, I was Gabrielle Johns: a dedicated librarian in our sleepy Utah town, and the devout wife of Matthew Scott, a man cherished by our church. My deepest prayer was for children, and after embracing IVF and discovering I was having quadruplets, I truly believed God had answered my prayers fourfold. My brutal pregnancy was a testament to my faith, and Matthew, my "devoted" husband, orchestrated prayer circles, praising my suffering as a mother's beautiful love. Then, six months in, at a church potluck, my world shattered. Hiding in the garden, I overheard Matthew and two elders. Matthew, the man I loved, calmly explained how I was merely a "vessel," a "righteous sacrifice" carrying children for his mistress, his sister, his old friend, and his deceased fiancée's parents. He chuckled, deeming me "so trusting," "so naive," for believing these impossible pregnancies were ours. My casserole dish crashed, mirroring the implosion within me. Each kick from inside became a violation, a chilling reminder of his cold deception. I stumbled home, the truth a gaping wound, forced to play the loving wife while a cold rage hardened my core. He' d not only used my infertility, he' d caused it, poisoning me for years with "supplements" to destroy my eggs. My love incinerated, replaced by a singular, burning desire. The devout, forgiving Gabrielle died that night. The woman who remained knew one thing with absolute certainty: She wanted revenge. She would make Matthew pay, not with quick death, but with a living hell far worse.
My Roommate's Billionaire Boyfriend Broke My Heart

My Roommate's Billionaire Boyfriend Broke My Heart

Four years ago, Dianna confronted Holden about their secret, tender night at the beach house. Instead of acknowledging it, he dragged her into a dark alley, threw a thick stack of cash at her feet, and told her to name her price to disappear. He looked at her with utter disgust, claiming he was blackout drunk that night and that she was nothing but a pathetic mistake he wished never happened. Shattered, Dianna fled to Los Angeles, spending four agonizing years erasing him from her life. But tonight, her roommate proudly brought home a new, wildly wealthy boyfriend—Holden. He treated Dianna like a piece of furniture, pretending they had never met. When she slipped and fell in the freezing rain, he simply stared at her bleeding on the pavement, withdrew his hand, and coldly walked away. Dianna thought her heart couldn't break any further, until her roommate happily bragged about her new boyfriend's perfect self-control. "Holden basically never drinks. He's always completely sober." The words hit Dianna like a lightning strike. The drunken excuse was a lie. He had been completely, coldly sober when he invented that cruel charade just to destroy her. Why? When Holden unexpectedly knocked on their dorm door moments later, locking his dark eyes onto hers, her roommate innocently asked if they knew each other from high school. The desperate, pleading girl from four years ago was dead. Dianna met his gaze with an impenetrable, icy mask. "No," she said. "I don't know him."
Substitute Bride: My Mysterious Loser Husband

Substitute Bride: My Mysterious Loser Husband

"I've given you my entire body, so when are you finally going to kick Avery to the curb?" Behind the half-open door, my hockey star boyfriend of three years was pinning my vicious stepsister to the bed, his voice rough with lust: "Don't mention that depressing loser. I only want you right now." I kicked the door open, slapped the cheating scumbag as hard as I could, and dumped him on the spot. But the real torture was just beginning. My beloved nanny was dying in the hospital, and my adoptive mother held the $50,000 life-saving surgery money hostage. She viciously threw a contract in my face: "Either take your sister's place and marry that disfigured, crippled psychopath, or go plan a funeral for that old bat right now!" On the day of the wedding, my stepsister crashed City Hall with my ex, live-streaming my humiliation to the world: "Even a deformed monster doesn't want you. You're a complete joke!" But as the clock ticked down to the last second, my fiancé was still nowhere to be seen. My hope of saving my nanny was turning to ash. Just as I closed my eyes in suffocating despair, the heavy doors of City Hall swung open. Stepping out of the light was a breathtakingly handsome man with broad shoulders and an aura so powerful and dangerous it made my knees weak. His piercing, predatory gaze locked onto me, and his deep, magnetic voice dropped into the dead silence: "Sorry I'm late." I froze, my breath catching in my throat. Wait... THIS is the rumored deformed psychopath?!
Divorcing The Arrogant Ice Hockey Star

Divorcing The Arrogant Ice Hockey Star

On our fourth wedding anniversary, I spent all afternoon preparing my husband's favorite meal. But Landon, a star hockey player, came home late, ignored the dinner, and rushed back out to comfort his ex-girlfriend. When I begged him to stay, he coldly called me "unreasonable" and slammed the door. Shortly after, I received a text message from an unknown number. It was an ultrasound photo, along with a taunting text: Isabelle was pregnant with his child. The sheer shock triggered a sudden, agonizing pain in my abdomen, making me collapse on the cold tiles. I called Landon with my last ounce of strength, begging him to save me. "Stop faking sick just because I went out. Don't cause more trouble for me. Get yourself an Uber." He impatiently hung up to deal with his ex's PR crisis. I was rushed to the ER with a ruptured ovarian cyst and severe internal bleeding. I nearly died on the operating table, forced to sign my own surgery consent forms completely alone. For four years, I had given up my dreams and identity to support his career, only to be treated like a disposable doll. I couldn't understand how the man I loved could leave me to die while fiercely protecting another woman. Waking up from the anesthesia, the pathetic woman who begged for his love was dead. I didn't cry or wait for his apology. Instead, I transferred my assets, packed my bags, and hired the most ruthless celebrity divorce lawyer in New York. This time, I'm making him pay.