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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
The Trap Of Ace

The Trap Of Ace

Seven years ago, Emerald Hutton had left her family and friends behind for high school in New York City, cradling her broken heart in her hands, to escape just only one person. Her brother's best friend, whom she loved from the day he'd saved her from bullies at the age of seven. Broken by the boy of her dreams and betrayed by her loved ones, Emerald had learned to bury the pieces of her heart in the deepest corner of her memories. Until seven years later, she has to come back to her hometown after finishing her college. The place where now the cold-hearted stone of a billionaire resides, whom her dead heart once used to beat for. Scarred by his past, Achilles Valencian had turned into the man everyone feared. The scorch of his life had filled his heart with bottomless darkness. And the only light that had kept him sane, was his Rosebud. A girl with freckles and turquoise eyes he'd adored all his life. His best friend's little sister. After years of distance, when the time has finally come to capture his light into his territory, Achilles Valencian will play his game. A game to claim what's his. Will Emerald be able to distinguish the flames of love and desire, and charms of the wave that had once flooded her to keep her heart safe? Or she will let the devil lure her into his trap? Because no one ever could escape from his games. He gets what he wants. And this game is called... The trap of Ace.
The Senator's Secret Son

The Senator's Secret Son

I' m Sarah Jenkins, an independent graphic designer who only longed for a child, not a husband. Five years ago, after a traumatic past, I built a quiet, safe life in Northern California with my son, Leo. I was finally marrying Mark, a kind, stable man, promising us the uncomplicated future we deserved. But peace was fleeting. A week before my wedding, Jax, security chief for Alexander Sterling-the powerful man I' d fled-appeared. He knew. They found me. Then, Alexander himself stepped from a black SUV, confirming my greatest fear: my meticulously faked death and new identity were exposed. The once-amnesiac man, now a formidable Senator, was intent on reclaiming what he believed was his. He publicly crashed my wedding, declaring Leo his son and me his wife. He tore apart the quiet world I' d painstakingly built, leaving me utterly exposed before our stunned community. My heart pounded with terror. Six years hiding, fearing discovery, only to be dragged back into his dangerous orbit? The abandonment, the cold payoff, years of fear-all surged back. What did Senator Sterling, a man of immense influence, truly want from the woman he' d discarded and the child he' d presumed dead? Then he knelt, not accusingly, but with a profound plea. He presented a stunning prenuptial agreement securing my independence and Leo' s future. He hadn' t come to control, but to confess, commit, and offer a path I never dreamed possible. Was this a genuine chance, or a trap disguised as freedom?
His Political Asset, Her Perfect Revenge

His Political Asset, Her Perfect Revenge

It started as our eighth wedding anniversary, a day I used to circle with a red heart, but this year the circle was empty. I baked Andrew, my rising City Councilman husband, his favorite chocolate lava cake, hoping to surprise him at his "late-night strategy session." Instead, I found him at a high-end steakhouse, clinking glasses with his sycophantic aides and his 21-year-old intern, Madisyn, practically glued to his side. Hiding behind a pillar, I heard him laugh and call me his "perfect political asset," a "boring sedan" he was "stuck" with, admitting he "can' t even stand to touch her anymore." The words hit me harder than any physical blow, crushing eight years of foolish hope and love. Andrew returned the next day, reeking of Madisyn' s perfume, offering fake apologies and a lavish trip, still lying even as her texts buzzed relentlessly on his phone. The next shock came at a clinic where I' d gone to confirm I wasn't pregnant; I overheard Andrew coldly demanding Madisyn get an abortion, threatening to ruin her life if she didn't-all to protect his career and public image. I knew he was selfish, but this was monstrous; he' d destroy anyone, even his own child, for personal gain. That's when I decided I would burn it all down. The game changed when Madisyn, pregnant again, brazenly texted me taunts and ultrasound photos, claiming Andrew was moving her into a luxury condo near me. She celebrated my broken marriage, boasting Andrew found me "old and dried up," but she had no idea who she was truly up against. I calmly sent her the recording of Andrew coercing her into an abortion, and her frantic pleas instantly confirmed her terror. The polite wife who endured humiliation was gone; I was ready to use every weapon at my disposal. I left the luxurious life, packing a single suitcase, leaving divorce papers on his desk, and booking a one-way flight to Rome-ready to start over. Andrew' s desperate phone calls to "fix things" were met with my chilling truth: "The problem is you." He tried to trap me by withdrawing the divorce papers, but with one furious kick to his groin, I made my intentions clear. That night, utilizing his mother' s desperate desire for an heir, I forged a medical report stating I was barren and anonymously sent it to her. She immediately forced Andrew to sign the divorce papers himself, ironically ending his own quest for a legacy. At his lawyer's office, Andrew pleaded for me back, still blind, clinging to the naive idea it was just about another woman. With a final, devastating blow, I handed him his true fertility report, revealing his low sperm count and the tragic irony: he had forced Madisyn to terminate what was likely his only chance at a biological child, the heir he so desperately wanted. Watching him crumble, finally understanding his self-inflicted destruction, I knew I was truly free.
Convenient Marriage, Shattered Dreams

Convenient Marriage, Shattered Dreams

My plane landed smoothly, yet my heart churned with a nervous hope. I hadn' t told David I was coming, hoping to bridge the growing chasm in our two-year "convenient" marriage-a partnership built more on family connections than genuine affection. But as I watched David Hayes' s assistant, Sarah Jenkins, casually link arms with him at the airport, her "smooth and practiced" voice oozing familiarity, a cold dread began to set in. She looked like a model, not the efficient helper David had mentioned. Her eyes, bright and confident, scanned me from head to toe, making me feel like a specimen under a microscope, an intruder. "You have to be careful, Chloe. Men can get tired of the same old thing. It' s good you came to check up on him," she purred in the car, a thinly veiled warning coated in false sweetness. My husband, David, just gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, and offered a weak, dismissive laugh. He didn't defend me; he managed the situation. That night, alone in his hotel suite, scrolling through a torrent of screenshots Sarah had mysteriously sent, my world shattered. "It' s a convenient marriage, Sarah. You know that. It' s not about passion." "You and me? We' re about everything else." The words, his words, tore through me like a physical blow. He had a whole vibrant life here-concerts, dinners, milestones-a life I was excluded from. My once protective, encouraging husband, the boy who called me pretty, was gone, replaced by a stranger who saw me as a "plain," "boring" obligation. The next day, during a forced shopping trip, he picked out a scarf for me. "Sarah has one just like it. She has amazing taste," he said. Then, he bought an identical one for her, right in front of me, using our "fresh start" as a cover for his infidelity. "People might compare," he fretted, not worried about me, but about what Sarah or his circle would think if we wore the same thing. My humiliation turned to ice. Then, Sarah appeared, melting into tears at the sight of the scarf, claiming they had picked it out. David, without a moment's hesitation, bolted after her, leaving me standing alone on a crowded street, holding the symbol of his betrayal. "He chose her," my mind screamed, the realization a stark, brutal clarity.