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Young Adult Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
The Whisper: My Mother's Twisted Protection

The Whisper: My Mother's Twisted Protection

My life was a daily gauntlet of verbal lashings and stinging slaps from my mother, Brenda. My father, Mark, was a ghost in his own home, always looking away. Even my half-sisters, Jessica and Emily, seemed to relish my misery, their laughter echoing like a cruel soundtrack to my twenty years of feeling like a very bad child. But the true torment was the "whisper." Whenever a kind soul—my grandparents, Pastor Miller, or even a compassionate CPS social worker like Ms. Davies—dared to show me an ounce of empathy, Mom would lean in, murmur something unseen, and their eyes would instantly cloud over. Their concern curdled into coldness, then suspicion, finally settling into outright disgust—always directed at me. The physical abuse escalated. My hopeful escapes were crushed, each attempt leading to deeper betrayal, culminating in me being dragged back home by Dr. Reed, a woman who promised salvation but delivered despair. Locked in the damp, decaying basement, forgotten and festering, every ounce of hope evaporated. What unthinkable secret did I carry? What monstrous truth was Brenda whispering that turned everyone against me, leaving me isolated, branded a danger, a problem, a curse? My own biological parents treated me like an abomination, while doting on Mark’s other children. It just didn't make sense. Could I truly be that bad? As consciousness faded from the pills I’d desperately swallowed, a frantic, desperate voice cut through the silence above: Brenda’s. "He needs a new kidney! Evelyn said Sarah is the only option left... What do you think I've been doing?!" The words were a shocking, impossible revelation. My mother, my tormentor, sacrificing everything to protect me from a monstrous truth? The whisper suddenly made a terrifying, twisted kind of sense, and my fight for life began.
Merton of the Movies

Merton of the Movies

This is a shocking work on Bonapartes life and deeds and on that period of worlds History alike. The De Bourrienne first hand impressions make the difference between this book and others.<p> Louis Antoine Fauvelet de Bourrienne (July 9, 1769 - February 7, 1834), French diplomat, was born at Sens.<\/p><p> He was educated at the military school of Brienne in Champagne along with Napoleon Bonaparte; and although the solitary habits of the latter made intimacy difficult, the two youths seem to have been on friendly terms. However, the stories of their very close friendship, as told in Bourriennes memoirs, are open to suspicion.<\/p><p> Leaving Brienne in 1787, and conceiving a distaste for the army, Bourrienne proceeded to Vienna. He was pursuing legal and diplomatic studies there, and afterwards at Leipzig, when the French Revolution broke out and went through its first phases. Not until the spring of 1792 did Bourrienne return to France; at Paris he renewed his acquaintance with Bonaparte. They led a Bohemian life together, and among other incidents of that exciting time, they witnessed the mobbing of the royal family in the Tuileries (June 20) and the overthrow of the Swiss Guards at the same spot (August 10).<\/p><p> Bourrienne next obtained a diplomatic appointment at Stuttgart, and soon his name was placed on the list of political \u00e9migr\u00e9s, from which it was not removed until November 1797. Nevertheless, after the affair of 13th Vend\u00e9miaire (October 5, 1795) he returned to Paris and renewed his acquaintance with Bonaparte, who was then second in command of the Army of the Interior and soon received the command of the Army of Italy. Bourrienne did not proceed with him into Italy, but was called there by the victorious general at the time of the long negotiations with Austria (May-October 1797), when his knowledge of law and diplomacy was useful in drafting the terms of the Treaty of Campo Formio (October 7).<\/p>
The Scapegoat Daughter

The Scapegoat Daughter

My brother didn't die. He just used a hurricane to run away, leaving me to pay for his escape. For eight agonizing years, my parents blamed me, punishing me for a "sin" I didn't commit, calling my very existence a penance for their lost golden child. On my nineteenth birthday, I tried to break free from their toxic grip. But as a notorious killer stalked me, I begged my father-a detective hunting this very monster-for help. He had already broken my only self-defense, a pepper spray he'd derided as a "useless toy," and then he dismissed my desperate texts as just another one of my dramatic cries for attention. I died because of their callous neglect, because the weapon I relied on failed me. As a ghost, I watched in horrifying silence as they grieved for a son who was never truly gone, while simultaneously dismissing my actual death. My dismembered body on their evidence board was just another case; my own parents were too consumed by mourning a lie to see the devastating truth of my final moments. How could they be so utterly blind? How could they condemn me for a lie, only to be completely untouched by my real, horrific truth? My entire life was an inconvenience, my death an unacknowledged whisper. But then, Ethan returned, alive, shattering their carefully constructed grief and revealing his selfish deception. And my killer, caught by my father, delivered the final, crushing blow: a confession detailing how my parents' neglect had sealed my fate, forcing my father to finally confront his own daughter's terrifying final pleas.