Young Adult Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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My Best Friends, My Worst Enemies
The last thing I remembered was Chloe's voice, sharp and gleeful, slicing through the haze of my headache: "They never loved you, Ava. Not Liam, not Noah. It was always me." Her words were a hammer blow, each one a nail in the coffin of my life, a searing supernova of agony that exploded behind my eyes before everything faded to black. I gasped, sitting bolt upright in my childhood bed, my unlined hands proof of a terrifying truth: I was back, the calendar on my desk screaming September 5th, senior year, before the nightmare truly began. The reel of my first life rewound in fast-forward: Stanford, the calculated betrayals by Liam and Noah, Chloe's venomous strings, the engineered vasectomies, my promising career systematically destroyed, and the aneurysm that ended it all. This was impossible, a future I'd already lived, a death I'd already died, yet the worn duvet felt real, the scent of my mother's pancakes too vibrant—a second chance, if I dared to seize it, to change everything. My fingers flew across the keyboard, deleting Stanford from my early college applications and replacing it with MIT—my true dream, the one they had ruthlessly crushed. Just then, the doorbell rang, and through the frosted glass, I saw them: Liam Walker, Noah Chen, and Chloe Jenkins, the architects of my past ruin, their bright smiles and feigned innocence an instant surge of cold dread./0/85221/coverorgin.jpg?v=a28a57567b2a832a853b43a04c862611&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reclaiming My Own Life
The first sign something was wrong wasn't a fight, but a cheerful Chime-Chime-Pop from my sister Lily' s phone, a sound I' d never heard before, buzzing with secrets during family dinner. Later, while I painstakingly helped Lily with her biology homework-a subject I'd aced, she struggled with-that same chime rang out again, punctuated by her casual lie: "Just Mom." But Mom's text tone was different, and the metallic taste of a familiar coldness spread through me as my suspicion grew. Then, Lily giggled, phone in hand: "Dad just sent that meme of the cat freaking out. He said it' s you trying to explain biology to me." My blood ran cold as I watched her oblivious smile; the pieces clicked with sickening finality. A secret group chat – "Family Trio" – Mom, Dad, and Lily-bug. Not me. The next morning, armed with a lie and an opportune request for a bakery address, I unlocked my mother's phone with Lily's birthday, and there it was: "Family Trio", pinned at the top. Hundreds of messages, photos of trips I knew nothing about, jokes about my "seriousness," complaints about my work schedule, and coordinating their financial demands: "Had to give Chloe another hundred bucks for her books. When does she start paying us back?" "Don' t forget, Chloe, we need you to chip in for the property tax bill next month. It' s a big one." The betrayal was absolute; I was their ATM, used and discarded. My hands trembling, but with chilling clarity, I screenshot every piece of their casual cruelty, a digital archive of their deceit, then wiped every trace. The confrontation shattered the illusion of family, the truth pouring out like acid, exposing years of neglect and manipulation. My father' s icy threat, "If you' re so unhappy here, Chloe, maybe you should think about finding somewhere else to live," was the undeniable proof. This wasn' t a misunderstanding; it was their nature. I felt a devastating clarity: I was utterly and completely alone in that house, a burden to be cast off. Then came the final demand: two thousand dollars for Lily' s car, almost my entire escape fund. I transferred the money, a piece of my soul, but this was the last time, the last dollar. I was getting out and no one was going to stop me./0/42201/coverorgin.jpg?v=50df2aad907269eb7fec92df876fcce6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Truth About Lying
Life has no background music unless you are Sebastian Michaelson. He was a young man with the ambition and skills to change the music industry and had practically written a song for every significant moment of his life. Until life sent him a memo that it was just not meant to be, he had to put down his instruments to live life with the buzzing gossip of Green Valley as its soundtrack. But what if a stormy night changed all that in the form of a woman representing everything Sebastian avoided but gravitated to? Would he remain a bystander or sing his way through life like it was a musical number? NOTE: I do not own any songs used in this novel. This non-fiction was inspired by music by several artists, particularly Ed Sheeran and Tori Kelly. Enjoy!/0/4500/coverorgin.jpg?v=6b43c4c159b7efc1883a9f05a0492a77&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Altar Steps
Edward Montague Compton Mackenzie was born on January 17th, 1883, in West Hartlepool, County Durham, England. Mackenzie was educated at St Paul's School, London before attending Magdalen College, Oxford, where he graduated with a degree in modern history. Initially Mackenzie worked as an actor, political activist and broadcaster before first publishing a book of poems in 1907 followed by a first novel in 1911. As Europe became enveloped in the horror of World War I Mackenzie found himself to be a skilled operator in the black arts of intelligence and served with British Intelligence in the Eastern Mediterranean. Although he shuttled between Greece and London his home since 1913 had primarily been in Capri where he lived with his wife Faith until 1920 before moving to Scotland. Across his long productive life, he had wide range of interests but Mackenzie also found the time and space to write over a hundred works across a number of genres and to establish himself as one of the 20th Century's most popular writers, especially as that audience was further widened with films of his books such as Whiskey Galore! Although born in England Mackenzie was forever foraging for his cultural roots. He considered himself Scottish and in word and deed and location he was. In 1928 he was also one of the co-founders of the Scottish National Party. Sir Edward Montague Compton Mackenzie, OBE, died on November 30th, 1972, aged 89, in Edinburgh and was interred at Eolaigearraidh, Barra./0/81624/coverorgin.jpg?v=bb771ca4c0ec89dffebf7d270c94313d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Whispers of a Dark Prophecy
I clutched my Yale application, a symbol of hope amidst the stifling air of my own home. My parents, my brother, and my childhood friend Jake stood before me, a picture of familial expectation. But I heard their thoughts, a chaotic chorus of fear and malice. "Lock her down. Save Chloe," my father thought. Jake proposed eloping, ostensibly for love, but their true motives were horrifying: to stop me from going to college, to prevent me from 'destroying Chloe' s future' – all based on a 'prophet' s' twisted premonitions about me. My refusal ignited their true rage. They stripped me of my agency, condemning my ambition as a 'dark path' to protect their 'blessed' Chloe. Every success I had ever achieved they twisted into a tool for villainy. My chronic illness, initially dismissed as 'drama,' became their excuse for outright torture: confinement, forced sedatives, and a dog leash chained to my ankle. They genuinely believed I had to be stopped, by any means necessary. How could a family be so utterly consumed by such a delusional prophecy, twisting every fiber of their love into a suffocating paranoia? How could they view me, their own daughter, as a malevolent force simply for wanting a future? The betrayal from Jake, someone I once crushed on, cut deeper than their predictable malice, as he chose their twisted narrative over me. But even held captive, my will wasn't broken. With my last ounce of strength, I penned a desperate 'SOS,' pressing it into Chloe's hand. This was my final gamble, my last hope to break free, to expose their monstrous delusion, and to reclaim my destiny, even if it cost me everything./0/40794/coverorgin.jpg?v=186fa6448669e0c17af9738289c758cd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Geeky Boyfriend Is Brutal
Sandra is a beautiful girl who reigns as the queen of her school. Her life always seems perfect, but deep down, she feels lonely and longs for true love. When Samuel, a new transfer student from another school, enters her life, she becomes intrigued by the mysterious boy. Samuel was initially a victim of bullying by his schoolmates because they thought he was poor and weak. However, Sandra and her friends are unaware that Samuel is actually the sole heir to his wealthy father and also the most feared gangster leader in town. He keeps this truth hidden because he doesn't want to come across as arrogant and doesn't want his school friends to be in danger. Through struggles and hard work, Samuel eventually gains Sandra's trust, and they start to develop a close relationship. However, their love becomes complicated as various intrigues unfold in their love story. Sandra fights hard to help Samuel break free from the cycle of violence. However, they face numerous obstacles from their parents and friends. Their lives become even more complicated when Samuel becomes entangled in conflicts with rival gangsters, putting their lives at risk. In the midst of conflicts and imminent danger, Sandra and Samuel must consider their values and life goals. They must choose between fulfilling love or facing the consequences that could potentially ruin their lives. Will Sandra and Samuel overcome the obstacles and stay together? Or will their separate lives lead them to lose this heartfelt love?/0/80529/coverorgin.jpg?v=4764618cecd99595e4219307ba5ab405&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Family's Dark Secret
I just received my SAT scores. Top percentile. A golden ticket to an Ivy League and a desperate escape from my perpetually unsettling family life. But at dinner, even a hint of my triumph was met with a cold, disgusted stare from my father. He snarled, accusing me of insensitivity towards my “struggling” cousin, Jessica—his latest obsession—then banished me to our stifling, dusty basement “to reflect.” A severe asthmatic, I quickly realized Jessica had deliberately sealed the tiny window, knowing the heat and dust would trigger an attack. My frantic pleas for help and my life-saving inhaler were met with mocking laughter from upstairs as my parents drove away, leaving me to suffocate. Every desperate attempt to call 911 or my grandma was mysteriously disconnected or sent back as a fake "pocket dial"—Jessica had intercepted and sabotaged my only lifelines, even bribing our housekeeper to ensure I wouldn't be helped. How could my own parents so readily believe her lies and abandon me to such a cruel fate? The chilling realization that a deliberate murder attempt was unfolding, orchestrated by my cousin and enabled by my family, was a betrayal deeper than the suffocating darkness around me. Yet, through sheer defiance, I clawed my way back from the brink of death, miraculously receiving new lungs. And when I finally walked out of the hospital, I knew my true fight had just begun. Jessica’s reign of terror was over. The truth would come out, and I would finally reclaim my life./0/1216/coverorgin.jpg?v=b3c553fd50494a1202251261c56ff622&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Criminal Sociology
A new departure in science is a simple phenomenon of nature, determined in its origin and progress, like all such phenomena, by conditions of time and place. Attention must be drawn to these conditions at the outset, for it is only by accurately defining them that the scientific conscience of the student of sociology is developed and confirmed. The experimental philosophy of the latter half of our century, combined with human biology and psychology, and with the natural study of human society, had already produced an intellectual atmosphere decidedly favourable to a practical inquiry into the criminal manifestations of individual and social life. To these general conditions must be added the plain and everyday contrast between the metaphysical perfection of criminal law and the progressive increase of crime, as well as the contrast between legal theories of crime and the study of the mental characteristics of a large number of criminals. From this point onwards, nothing could be more natural than the rise of a new school, whose object was to make an experimental study of social pathology in respect of its criminal symptoms, in order to bring theories of crime and punishment into harmony with everyday facts. This is the positive school of criminal law, whereof the fundamental purpose is to study the natural genesis of criminality in the criminal, and in the physical and social conditions of his life, so as to apply the most effectual remedies to the various causes of crime. Thus we are not concerned merely with the construction of a theory of anthropology or psychology, or a system of criminal statistics, nor merely with the setting of abstract legal theories against other theories which are still more abstract. Our task is to show that the basis of every theory concerning the self-defence of the community against evil-doers must be the observation of the individual and of society in their criminal activity. In one word, our task is to construct a criminal sociology./0/21710/coverorgin.jpg?v=49339f6896c77427203924bd1c67d57a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Meandering Love
Liliana is a friendless, socially awkward, and tomboy who is constantly being ridiculed for her appearance and lack of social connections. However, she is destined to meet a charming prince, and a rollercoaster ride awaits her, which will completely transform her life. Jason is a charming, arrogant jock who has never trusted a girl, who has never believed in steadfast love, and who has finally decided to be with the tomboy girl, Liliana. At first, his goal was to keep the girls out of his way. However, once they both looked into each other's eyes and kissed, once the sparks of love-struck their hearts. "Can you tell me why you're dressing like a boy? "Do you have any idea that you're a girl?" He chuckled, inspecting her from her shoes to her bizarre bun in a mocking manner. "Then kiss me," she said, a competitive tone in her voice as she raised her eyebrows in irritation. She caught him off guard with her words, but she managed to pull him into a powerful kiss that broke his heart. They had no intention of falling in love with each other. But it was their destiny./0/23588/coverorgin.jpg?v=c2287c7c5ab26cc287b29ae968587d05&imageMogr2/format/webp)
CAST OUT
Overpowered by the strong hands who grabbed her by the hair and pulled her along, dragging her into a dark room that recks of urine and cigarettes. Hurled her inside. His hands still gripping her hair and not doubt if he let go, some strands of hair would fall of. Undeniably, the pains were suffocating. When she stares at his dark eyes, the only thing she saw was darkness. "Let go, let go of me you bastard!" She spit out. That only made his mighty five fingers appear on her face. Which sent her head spinning on her neck. He made her kiss the earth. And slowly breathed in her face. "Your life ends here...." his voice was deep baritone and cruel and that was when she felt the shivers down her spine. How did the nerdy Elina find her way into the merciless billionaire's court?/0/82565/coverorgin.jpg?v=c8d7153595e7abcda892cb5e569d80cb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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./0/12012/coverorgin.jpg?v=dcfc05c62d8c686083b349ee040f23d9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Vindication of the Rights of Woman Title: Vindication of the Rights of Women
After considering the historic page, and viewing the living world with anxious solicitude, the most melancholy emotions of sorrowful indignation have depressed my spirits, and I have sighed when obliged to confess, that either nature has made a great difference between man and man, or that the civilization, which has hitherto taken place in the world, has been very partial. I have turned over various books written on the subject of education, and patiently observed the conduct of parents and the management of schools; but what has been the result? a profound conviction, that the neglected education of my fellow creatures is the grand source of the misery I deplore; and that women in particular, are rendered weak and wretched by a variety of concurring causes, originating from one hasty conclusion. The conduct and manners of women, in fact, evidently prove, that their minds are not in a healthy state; for, like the flowers that are planted in too rich a soil, strength and usefulness are sacrificed to beauty; and the flaunting leaves, after having pleased a fastidious eye, fade, disregarded on the stalk, long before the season when they ought to have arrived at maturity. One cause of this barren blooming I attribute to a false system of education, gathered from the books written on this subject by men, who, considering females rather as women than human creatures, have been more anxious to make them alluring mistresses than rational wives; and the understanding of the sex has been so bubbled by this specious homage, that the civilized women of the present century, with a few exceptions, are only anxious to inspire love, when they ought to cherish a nobler ambition, and by their abilities and virtues exact respect./0/8414/coverorgin.jpg?v=97837659b241c178ab4c534e8bb48d57&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Phantom of the River
Classic adventure novel. According to Wikipedia: "Edward Sylvester Ellis (April 11, 1840 – June 20, 1916) was an American author who was born in Ohio and died at Cliff Island, Maine. Ellis was a teacher, school administrator, and journalist, but his most notable work was that that he performed as author of hundreds of dime novels that he produced under his name and a number of noms de plume. Notable works by Ellis include The Huge Hunter, or the Steam Man of the Prairies and Seth Jones, or the Captives of the Frontier. Internationally, Edward S. Ellis is probably best known for his Deerhunter novels widely read by young boys up to the 1950s (together with works by James Fenimore Cooper and Karl May). In the mid-1880s, after a fiction-writing career of some thirty years, Ellis eventually turned his pen to more serious works of biography, history, and persuasive writing."/0/9040/coverorgin.jpg?v=62248e52ecdc428c20d51457cf92a917&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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FATED-BOND
Life after high school was supposed to be the most exciting experience, full of adventure for Daisy. That was what she presumed it would be. Instead, it was a world of new, strange, and unimaginable experiences. Daisy was a naive, inexperienced, and ambitious young lady who wanted to prove a point of her sexuality to herself and her friend. Proof of her sexuality bonded her with a young guy from another continent and she became a mother at the age of 17, without knowing where to find the father of her baby./0/80845/coverorgin.jpg?v=62aafcd74b1f4546a70a7f548b1b2e84&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Scholarship Scammer's Downfall
I had worked my entire life for this. The Starlight Innovators Scholarship—a full ride to MIT—was finally mine, and the principal had just called my name. But as I stood to accept, a shrill voice cut through the applause. My father's mistress, Brenda Sullivan, publicly railed that her son deserved it, claiming my "generous" father had funded the school. My father, Richard, who just lived off my mom's untold fortune, beamed beside her as they tried to snatch my future, painting me as ordinary. I exposed their first lie: my reclusive genius mom, Eleanor Vance, was NovaCore's actual founder and the *real* donor. Yet they didn't stop; they launched a vicious online smear campaign and my father even physically attacked my professor at MIT. How could my own father, this charlatan, repeatedly try to sabotage my life with such brazen lies? Why did they relentlessly pursue me, twisting truths and resorting to violence, just to protect their crumbling fabricated world? But they underestimated me. I was done being their victim. When Kevin, in a desperate rage, broke into my dorm with a knife, I knew it was time to ensure their web of deceit collapsed—not just online, but for good./0/1688/coverorgin.jpg?v=d35ee77f243f0382dcce18a2539473a8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When a Man Marries
According to Wikipedia: "Mary Roberts Rinehart (August 12, 1876-September 22, 1958) was a prolific author often called the American Agatha Christie.[1] She is considered the source of the phrase "The butler did it", although she did not actually use the phrase herself, and also considered to have invented the "Had-I-But-Known" school of mystery writing.... Rinehart wrote hundreds of short stories, poems, travelogues and special articles. Many of her books and plays, such as The Bat (1920) were adapted for movies, such as The Bat (1926), The Bat Whispers (1930), and The Bat (1959). While many of her books were best-sellers, critics were most appreciative of her murder mysteries. Rinehart, in The Circular Staircase (1908), is credited with inventing the "Had-I-But-Known" school of mystery writing. The Circular Staircase is a novel in which "a middle-aged spinster is persuaded by her niece and nephew to rent a country house for the summer. The house they choose belonged to a bank defaulter who had hidden stolen securities in the walls. The gentle, peace-loving trio is plunged into a series of crimes solved with the help of the aunt. This novel is credited with being the first in the "Had-I-But-Known" school."[3] The Had-I-But-Known mystery novel is one where the principal character (frequently female) does less than sensible things in connection with a crime which have the effect of prolonging the action of the novel. Ogden Nash parodied the school in his poem Don't Guess Let Me Tell You: "Sometimes the Had I But Known then what I know now I could have saved at least three lives by revealing to the Inspector the conversation I heard through that fortuitous hole in the floor." The phrase "The butler did it", which has become a cliché, came from Rinehart's novel The Door, in which the butler actually did do it, although that exact phrase does not actually appear in the work."/0/15611/coverorgin.jpg?v=fc8c24f92179e43026f63cb5778d4cb7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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