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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Married to the arrogant king

Married to the arrogant king

Princess Zara is 21 years old, and the only daughter of King Alan and queen Lyarra. She was asked to marry their enemy, King Carl of Everton in other to protect her nation Azrael and its people. ****** The princess was now standing in front of me. But she was not what I expected. In fact, to say I was disappointed was an understatement. Like what the fuck. I've heard stories about how beautiful and enchanting she was, but the woman standing in front of me was completely opposite from that description. I could also see the confused look on my council member's face, while Gwen who was also standing among the council members had a smirk. The woman standing in front of me was chubby. What the hell? I thought they said she was slim and slender. She even had a mole on her nose and when she smiled at me, I almost puked. She had a huge gap tooth and looked like a clown. Can someone put her out of my misery? I thought. It's a good thing I didn't go out to welcome her. "Greetings your highest," she said, and I almost died. Her voice was deep like a man's voice. So much for an angelic voice. Who the hell gave that description of her, I wouldn't hesitate to kill them if I find them. My eyes caught with another beautiful ocean blue ones, and I was lost staring that them. I scanned the face of the person, and it was so beautiful, like the most beautiful face, I've ever seen. The face was so small that it could fit into my palm. She was dressed like a boy, but I knew she was a girl. She had a smirk on her face as she looked at me. What, is she also laughing at my misery, I thought and scoff. Why can't she be the princess? I thought, sighing how unfortunate I am. There is no way I was marrying that ugly princess. "Greetings your Majesty," I heard the most angelic voice, I've ever heard said, and I glanced up to see the same beautiful face staring at me. "I'm princess Zara of Azrael," she announced, and everyone gasped.
His Devotion, Her Deception

His Devotion, Her Deception

The roar of the crowd was a distant hum as I stood backstage, a velvet box in my hand, ready to surprise Chloe-the woman I loved, the dancer poised for victory. Her voice, clear and musical, drifted through her dressing room door, casually dismissing me to the host: "Ethan? He' s just a suitor, one of many." Then came the colder blow, a dismissive laugh as she added, "Some people just have more money than sense... A bit of a gold-digger, you could say, just for status instead of money." The word "gold-digger" hit me like a physical punch, forcing the box containing the "Starry Night" necklace-a symbol of my months-long devotion and sacrifice-to clatter to the concrete floor. Suddenly, every anonymous donation, every chauffeur drive, every hidden act of support over the years twisted into a stark, humiliating truth: I hadn't been building a future; I had merely been funding her present. Later, in the lobby, she paraded a new man, Leo, as her "soul connection," while casually introducing me as an "old friend from back home," making sure to emphasize the word friend. Leo then went on to serenade her, turning his performance into a public jab at me, declaring, "Some gifts don't come in a box. They come from the soul. They can't be bought." The irony was suffocating. I, Ethan Miller, the "tech CEO" who had built an empire from nothing, was being cast as the materialistic fool, outshone by a performative, "spiritual" artist. And Chloe, the woman I loved more than anything, gave me a fleeting glance that screamed, "Don't make a scene." The love I held for her, so deep and foundational, began to crumble, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. I walked out of that theater, leaving the illusion behind, knowing one thing for sure: if money was all I valued, at least money had never lied to me. But the real question remained: What was she really worth? And what was he hiding?
The Heiress He Threw Away

The Heiress He Threw Away

For five years, I poured my life, my talent, and my unpaid labor into building Ryan Blakely' s dream. I was his graphic designer, his strategist, his every support, believing our shared struggle would culminate in a shared future. Then, live on a pixelated stream, bathed in the glow of his multi-million dollar success, he smiled, that brilliant, camera-ready smile. "I'd like to announce my engagement to the brilliant and beautiful Stella Lawrence." The name hit me like a physical blow. But he wasn't done. He then publicly dismissed me as a "clout-chasing groupie," "good for the struggle, but not for the high life." My world went silent. After everything, he called me trash, then marked me one last time before discarding me with a morning-after pill. The next day, his new fiancée, Stella, called me a "charity case." When I dared speak back, Ryan stormed over, slapped me, and then abandoned me as thugs, hired by Stella, stabbed me in an alley. How could the man I loved, the man I gave everything to, not only humiliate and betray me, but physically harm me and leave me to die? Was our entire five years a lie, or was there something more sinister at play? Just as I lost all hope, a powerful hand shoved Ryan aside. My protector, Andrew Scott, stood over me, instantly revealing my true identity: Gabrielle Fuller, heiress to a tech empire. Now, it was time for Ryan to face the real world he had so carelessly discarded.