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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
The Ice King's Regret: Divorced My Wife, Lost A Musical Genius

The Ice King's Regret: Divorced My Wife, Lost A Musical Genius

My husband, the brightest star in the NHL, handed me a divorce agreement. "It's just a PR divorce. I need a clean slate to be there for her in her final six months." He wanted to protect his dying first love from being called a homewrecker. What he didn't know was that I had just found out I was pregnant with his child. I hid the pregnancy, snapped the test in half, and signed the papers. I thought leaving quietly was enough, but his "saintly" first love wasn't satisfied. She orchestrated a media circus, faking a dramatic decline to frame me as a vindictive ex-wife. His rabid fans and the press swarmed me, shoving me to the concrete. As I lay there bleeding, nearly losing my baby, he fiercely protected her and sneered at me. "Stop making a scene, Calista. Your suffering is just a desperate cry for attention." Then, a hospital insider leaked the truth. The terminal illness was a complete lie. She only had a stomach ulcer, using theatrical blood packets to manipulate his guilt and annihilate my reputation. Looking at my bruised body and the ultrasound photo, the last bit of warmth in my heart turned to ice. I didn't cry or beg. I handed him an irrevocable dissolution of marriage, waiving all my rights to his fortune. Then, I submitted an application for a national music competition under a brand new stage name. This time, I choose to live for myself.
The Price of Perfection

The Price of Perfection

It was my birthday, marking ten silent years I' d lived inside Marcus Thorne' s gilded mansion. I was his late wife' s eerie look-alike, tasked with raising his son, Leo, in a life of unimaginable luxury and suffocating expectation. Then, a seemingly innocent smoothie led to a violent miscarriage, a tiny, unformed hope extinguished. The boy I' d nurtured for a decade delivered the first cruel blow, his voice devoid of warmth: "You' ll never be her. Stop trying." Marcus, the industrial titan who' d bought my resemblance, casually dismissed my profound loss, already planning his next merger and another child. My own mother defended him, her hand stinging across my face as she called me ungrateful for daring to question this "chance" at security. Leo, the boy I' d raised and loved like my own, unleashed a torrent of venom, accusing me of wanting his mother dead, twisting my decade of devotion into a greedy plot for their fortune. Every sacrifice, every ounce of love I' d given, felt corrupted, leaving me utterly alone in an opulent prison built on lies and echoes. As Marcus, his eyes alight with menace, picked up a heavy letter opener, threatening to mar the face that had been both my fortune and my curse, a terrifying clarity hit me. I seized the blade from him and, with agonizing precision, dragged it across my own cheeks. The incandescent pain was a primal scream of liberation. Bleeding and irrevocably scarred, I bolted from that house, finally, truly free.
Beyond The Broken Heart: Stella\'s Vengeance

Beyond The Broken Heart: Stella\'s Vengeance

My boyfriend, Caleb, was my family, my everything, for nearly two decades. He worked as a security guard for a spoiled tech heiress, Gabrielle, but our Fourth of July plans were finally just for us. Then a frantic call from his client shattered everything. Suddenly, we were on a deserted road, fireworks popping in the distance, when a "carjacking" erupted. As masked men attacked, Caleb didn't hesitate. He sprinted past me, sacrificing my safety to shield Gabrielle, whispering, "If anything happens to you, I can't live with myself." His words, and the knife searing my side, were a shock that cut deeper than any blade. I bled out on the asphalt, while Caleb fussed over Gabrielle's minor scratch. I woke up in a hospital, alone, only to hear nurses describe Caleb as the "devoted guard" who hadn't left Gabrielle's side. He eventually appeared, reeking of her perfume, offering pathetic excuses and blaming me for being "in the wrong place at the wrong time." Just then, Gabrielle, pristine and smug, was wheeled in. "We both had our panic buttons," she purred, "We were going to see who he'd save." She confirmed the carjacking was a setup, a twisted bet I never knew I was in. My world imploded. How could the man I loved, my family, orchestrate such a cruel betrayal, then abandon me for a sick game? He chose her, leaving me broken. But I wouldn't stay broken. This was just the beginning of my reckoning.