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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Forced Contract Marriage To A Ruthless Tycoon

Forced Contract Marriage To A Ruthless Tycoon

Devil's own incarnation in sparkling designers. Zade Dalton Gomez is a man not to be trifled with, and Carla Van Grande has always been aware of that, which was why she knew she was doomed the moment this man involved himself in her mess and forced her into a contract marriage with himself. Tycoon, big shot, and powerful with near-impossible connections, Zade was a conventionally attractive, highly sought after bachelor in the country. Carla, whose reputation in the country is completely ruined after going to prison in place of a man that ended up backstabbing her, has been deserted by everyone and is left to face her plight herself. She hoped for a miracle that would bring her out of this humiliating mess, and not a union with the devil himself, which is bound to leave her scorched in the end. Zade detests criminals. Zade loathed Carla. She and her ex-husband were responsible for a trauma of his, and he vowed to punish Carla while making use of her- to kill a handful of birds at once before discarding her. It's just a contract marriage, but neither of them anticipated desire coming into play. A contract marriage born from raw hatred, a thirst for revenge, and punishment. What could go wrong? ~~~ Ex-husband showed up with divorce papers for me to sign. He thought I'd be crying, but I readily signed it with a smile. When he sighted me in the arms of his arch enemy, he instantly grew jealous and now, he wants me back. "Carla, come back. We can make this work." He pleaded desperately. Zade wrenched me back and pinned me against his chest, then he tightly gripped my ex-husband's throat as he spoke. "You dense fool! If you dare show your face around my wife again, I'll gouge your eyes out. She has moved on from trash to diamonds as you can see. Now, why don't you get lost before I lose my temper."
Jelly Love

Jelly Love

Aitana has a steady hand with nail polish and undeniable talent with a brush. At the prestigious Luna spa, her viral designs have made her one of the most sought-after manicurists among influencers, models, and agency staff. But everything comes crashing down when a furious client accuses her-in front of everyone-of dating her boyfriend. The proof: a social media story with the unmistakable hallmark of her jelly nails. Humiliated and warned by management, Aitana tries to rebuild her image while the real cause of the scandal, Iker-owner of Glow Agency, attractive, addictive, and manipulative-reappears in her life as if nothing had happened. Aitana swears she won't fall for it again. But while she files, buffs, and paints her nails, she begins to hear repeated confessions. Many of her clients, unknowingly, share more than just nail polish and secrets: they've also been with Iker. And there's something else Aitana doesn't dare share. Something that grows in silence. In an environment where everything is leaked, everything is judged, and everything is recorded, keeping a secret could cost you more than your job. Between love scandals, rivalries between promoters, reputations that crumble like battered nails, and decisions that will change her life, Aitana must choose whether to write this story with brilliance... or cut it short before it hurts more. Between nail polish, secrets, and broken hearts... Aitana also has one that beats for two.
The Price of His Control

The Price of His Control

The rain that had veiled Emily' s funeral still clung to my black dress as I approached Mark' s gleaming penthouse, a place that now felt like a tomb. The elevator opened directly into the living room, and the first thing I heard was Mark' s easy laughter, a sound that felt like a physical blow. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, oblivious, while I, his fiancée, had just buried my little sister. His eyes swept over me, from my damp hair to my scuffed shoes, and disgust flickered across his features. "Sarah. What are you doing? You didn' t follow protocol," he hissed, stepping back as if I carried a plague. Then, he grabbed the worn leather purse Emily gave me, holding it like a dead rat before dropping it into his high-tech trash chute. "Now go," he commanded. "Get out. And don' t come back up until you' re clean." That' s when I saw it. He wasn' t afraid of germs. He was afraid of losing control. He never touched my dying sister, citing "contamination risk," but freely shared mai tais with his assistant, Lisa, and her family in Hawaii, while Emily withered in an impersonal hospice. Every humiliating cleansing ritual, every compromised dream, every sacrifice I made for this man-it was never about love. It was about breaking me, about proving I was worth nothing. Something inside me, long dormant, finally shattered. I didn' t go to the sanitation suite. I walked out of that building, leaving behind his sterile, loveless world. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew I was never going back.