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Young Adult Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Their Downfall, My Design

Their Downfall, My Design

I was heading into senior year, my ROTC scholarship practically a guarantee, my future stretching out bright and limitless. Then, my childhood friend and first love, Mike, fueled by jealousy and his new girlfriend Jessica' s petty spite, drugged my drink. It was right before my crucial ROTC physical, and I failed, watching my dreams and entire future evaporate. My life spiraled into dead-end jobs, a miserable existence far from what I' d planned. Years later, at a party, Jessica, still simmering with a twisted hatred, set her friends on me. I remembered the rough hands, the tearing, the cold, hard floor against my cheek as their cruel laughter filled the air. They stripped away everything, then they killed me. The searing pain, the utter betrayal, the image of their faces twisting with delight as I lay dying - it was an agonizing, incomprehensible end. Why? How could they commit such an unspeakable act, then simply walk away? But then, I woke up, gasping, in my own bed, three years in the past, my body miraculously whole and untouched. Reborn. A terrifying realization struck me with the force of a physical blow: what if they were back too? At the first school assembly, Mike' s arrogant smirk and Jessica' s cold, knowing eyes confirmed my worst fears. They remembered. But this time, I wouldn't just survive; I would ensure they paid for every last bit of what they did. The game was on, and this time, I was ready to win.
Her Twinkling Eyes

Her Twinkling Eyes

Hazel Nash had always been the one person I couldn't stand. Every time I saw her in the hallways, her head buried in some book, I felt my blood boil. She had taken my topper spot and made it hers, and every time I saw her name above mine, it felt like a personal insult. But there was something else, something I never admitted to myself until that day. It was late after school, and the halls were empty. I was heading to the library when I heard soft humming. Following the sound, I found Hazel sitting alone in a corner, her eyes closed, lost in her music. For a moment, I just watched her. She looked so different, so...peaceful. "Enjoying the view?" she asked, not opening her eyes. I felt my face heat up. "Just wondering how you always manage to look so smug," I shot back. She opened her eyes and met my gaze, and for the first time, I saw something other than rivalry in them. There was a softness, a vulnerability that took me by surprise. "Maybe because I don't see you as a rival, Ace," she said softly. "Maybe I just see you." Those words hung in the air, and something shifted between us. We both knew we were supposed to hate each other, but in that moment, it felt impossible. The days that followed were confusing. I found myself drawn to her, seeking her out in the library, walking her to classes. We'd argue, of course, but there was a new undercurrent, a tension that was hard to ignore. One evening, as we were studying together, our hands brushed. It was a simple touch, but it sent a shock through me. "Why are you doing this, Hazel?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Because," she replied, "I think there's more to you than just the competition." That night, under the dim library lights, we kissed. It was tentative at first, then urgent, as if we were trying to make up for all the lost time spent hating each other. In that moment, all the rivalry melted away, replaced by something far deeper. But it wasn't easy. We had to keep it a secret, sneaking around, hiding our feelings from everyone. Warren would never understand, and Amber would be furious. The school would explode if they knew. Yet, every stolen moment was worth the risk. One day, we were nearly caught by Warren. We had been in the music room, hidden from the world, when we heard footsteps. Hazel panicked, but I held her close. "Trust me," I whispered. We stayed still until the footsteps faded away, and then she kissed me, harder than ever before. "Someday, Ace, this won't have to be a secret," she said. "Someday," I agreed, hoping that day would come sooner rather than later. Until then, we would live for the stolen moments, the secret smiles, and the forbidden kisses. Because despite everything, despite the rivalry and the risks, Hazel Nash had become the one person I couldn't live without.
The Unseen Horror

The Unseen Horror

My mother's fists and cutting words were a constant, brutal normal. At 19, I lived under her unpredictable rages, bewilderingly targeted and deeply alone. Then a mysterious video shattered my fragile peace. My loving grandparents, concerned about my endless "accidents," visited. One glance at my mother's phone, and their faces twisted into sickening horror. "She can't stay here," my grandfather rasped, their eyes silently urging me to vanish. Weeks later, my boyfriend Mark burst in during another savage beating, ready to call the cops. But after my mother calmly showed him that same video, his anger drained, replaced by a horrified pity. "She needs to go," he told her, echoing my grandparents' chilling demand. Even my beloved father, once my protector, turned cold and distant after viewing it, joining the chorus that I was "the problem." My world imploded. Everyone I trusted, every last hope, had turned on me, convinced by this unseen horror. What unspeakable secret could be on that video that warped their love into icy rejection, making them agree I "needed to be taken care of"? Was I losing my mind, or was this betrayal a prelude to something far more sinister? Desperate for answers, I risked everything, stealing my mother's phone and watching the dreaded file. What I saw wasn't about me at all; it was a grainy, undeniable horror: my "kind" father, the respected community leader, preying on my older sisters. The unthinkable truth rewrote my entire life, exposing my mother's "abuse" as a devastating, desperate shield, a terrifying sacrifice to protect me from the monster living under our roof.
The Mafia Monk

The Mafia Monk

"I kill for living" I said seriously expecting the beauty before me to back away in fear. I leaned close towards her and brought my face just inches away from her beautiful pinkish face. "Kill? Kill what?" She frowned. I internally hit my forehead at the raising annoyance. She didn't back away from the closeness, in fact she did not observe it at all. She was too much into the conversation. "Of course I Kill people. I'm not into poultry to raise and kill chicken." I scoffed and leaned in closer to intimidate her. I was expecting her to shriek, cry, yell and run away far from me but What I got in response was what exactly you expect from the beauty. The unexpected answer. "So you clean too. Nice." She told herself with a smile and a appreciative nod. "Goodness, What and why would I clean?" Furrowing my brows in confusion and utter disbelief, I shook my head to compose myself. "You said you kill people. You kill bad people to do welfare to the Earth so you are cleaning away dirt right?" That did it. I, Demyan Lev Petrov, the most powerful, ruthless and dangerous king of Mafia, accept that I lost the argument to her. Zinnia Mae White, the most innocent and a mental girl I ever got lucky to meet. That crazy girl doesn't know whom to fear and whom not to. The day she entered my life was the day my happy, bloody, dangerous life, she turned it, crushed it and made me lose my sanity with everything she does and says. But Damn, I love that in her so much. I love her This mental, fickle minded, school teacher of mine! My Zinnia, My insane solace.
Stolen Identity, Stolen Fortune

Stolen Identity, Stolen Fortune

My life was perfectly on track. I was Ashley, the daughter of Katherine, heir to the "Katherine's Kitchen" bakery empire, and I was about to ace my SATs and get into my dream Ivy League school. Everything was normal. Until Spirit Week. A viral video exploded through the school, showing my foster sister, Brittany, tear-streaked, claiming our mother had stolen her. That I was the imposter, the switched baby, and the entire family fortune was rightfully hers. Her biological mother, Brenda, was right there, nodding grimly. Suddenly, I was public enemy number one. Whispers followed me, my locker was vandalized, and the bullying became relentless. My college art project, weeks of work, was smashed. Brittany even faked bruises and got me suspended, shattering my academic future. Then a "leaked" DNA test, clearly fake, confirmed their lies, making even me question everything. How could my life be stolen by a baseless lie? Why did my own foster sister resent me so deeply, and why would her mother unleash such a venomous campaign? The injustice burned, leaving me reeling, wondering who I even was anymore. But my mother fought back, proving the first DNA test was fake. Yet, Brittany's malice didn't die – she tried to drug me. And Brenda, consumed by delusion, escalated to setting fire to my house! I wouldn't run. The battle for my life, my name, and my future had only just begun. And I was going to win.