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Young Adult Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Stuck With Mr. Popular

Stuck With Mr. Popular

It took everything in me not to kiss him back. His lips moved against mine in a perfect rhythm. "Soaf-Soaf please listen to me" He said while his blue eyes were gazing into mine. His breath fanned my face. We both were panting. My heart was thudding hard against my chest. "I-I have to go." I said shocked after what had just happened now. Fucking shit. Somehow I got myself out of his grip and took the file which fell on the floor when he pinned my hands on the wall and ran out of the classroom. I heard him mumbling a few curse words as I rushed to the door. "Soaf...Soaf" His voice faded as I ran out of the classroom. What has just happened? What the hell is wrong with him? He kissed me. Raymond Reynolds-The most popular boy of our school just kissed me. Why would he kiss me? No one even talks to me in at school. He didn't even know my name two weeks ago. Suddenly an image of light brown pair of eyes glaring at me pops up in my mind. Ellen Whitmore. She's going make my life a living hell. ************ Sophie Esinberg is your typical nerd with glasses, books clutched in her arms and face down while walking down the school hallway. She wasn't like this earlier. She used to be outspoken and confident. Then what changed her? Sophie faced a hell lot of bullying and had no one who could stand up for her. After her childhood best friend Daniel left her she accepted her life as a loner. Not until one day she is forced into a project with School's Famous Bad boy, also known as Mr. Popular- Raymond Reynolds. Everything comes crashing down when she finds that she is falling for cocky , super hot and irresistible Mr. Popular. But she knows she's a nobody in his world. She is incompetent. Will she fight against her instincts and let him break her heart?
Her Father's Medal, Her Own War

Her Father's Medal, Her Own War

My life was finally looking up. The email glowed on my phone: "Congratulations, Sarah Miller!" – a full scholarship to a top university, my ticket out of our small town and a way to honor my parents' memory. My sister, Emily, who' d been my rock running our family diner, Miller' s Plate, since Mom and Dad passed, screamed with joy with me. But our joy shattered when Mark Henderson, the spoiled son of the town's most powerful developer, swaggered into Miller's Plate. He and his thugs brutally assaulted Emily, leaving her broken and our diner in ruins, just because she refused to sell our land. The nightmare deepened at the police station. Chief Williams, clearly in Art Henderson' s pocket, dismissed it as a "mutual altercation" and advised me to take their dirty money. Then, my scholarship was mysteriously rescinded, erasing my future. My home was savagely vandalized, and our beloved cat, Patches, was found dead, a cruel message pinned to his collar: "Next time, it' s you." Every lawyer turned me away, and our once-supportive neighbors, cowed by the Hendersons' influence, looked the other way. I felt utterly crushed, alone against an empire of corruption and violence. My sister lay critical in the ICU, our home was a wreck, and they' d taken everything. What else was left for them to destroy? Amidst the wreckage, I stumbled upon my late Marine father's old footlocker. Inside, I found his Medal of Honor. "Semper Fi," he used to say – Always Faithful. A desperate, impossible hope ignited: if the local system was broken, maybe his military family, General Peterson, could remind them what justice truly meant. I clutched the medal, buying a bus ticket to Camp Lejeune, ready for the fight of my life.
The Wonderful Story of Washington

The Wonderful Story of Washington

Excerpt: We cannot think with a true vision, in estimating the meaning of colonial and revolutionary days, if we allow the glamor of fame and the idolatry of colonial patriotism to obscure our view of those times. There were heroes immortal with what we know as “the spirit of ’76,” but, grading from them were the good, bad and indifferent, that often seemed overwhelming in numbers. George Washington is known chiefly through the rather stilted style of writing that then prevailed, and the puritanic expressions that were used in describing commendable conduct. Even Washington’s writings were edited so as not to offend sensitive ears, and so as not to give an impression to the reader different from the idealized orthodox character of that severe pioneer civilization. The people were free in everything but social expression. That was sternly required to conform to a rigid puritanic or cavalier standard. Washington, more than any other great man, seems to have composed his early life from what some well-meaning reformers have termed “copy-book morality;” that is, proverbial morality or personal rules of conduct. Washington in his boyhood wrote out many moral sentences as reminders for his own guidance. He was a persistent searcher after the right way toward the right life. Washington’s mother is described as being stern in business and moral discipline, even as having a violent temper and being capable of very severe measures to accomplish needed results. It seems that Washington, seeing this method in both father and mother, reinforced, as it were, by the military bearing of his much-admired elder half-brother, took that form of life as his earliest ideal. He was as tireless in perfecting models of business and life as Lincoln was in mastering the unconventional meaning of human beings. Washington at the ages of eleven and twelve delighted to copy various book-keeping forms and mercantile documents. His school books at that age are still preserved and they are models of accuracy and neatness. Besides that, he loved to discipline himself. He was always subjecting himself, either mentally or physically, to some kind of orderly training.
Essays of Michel de Montaigne

Essays of Michel de Montaigne

The present publication is intended to supply a recognised deficiency in our literature—a library edition of the Essays of Montaigne. This great French writer deserves to be regarded as a classic, not only in the land of his birth, but in all countries and in all literatures. His Essays, which are at once the most celebrated and the most permanent of his productions, form a magazine out of which such minds as those of Bacon and Shakespeare did not disdain to help themselves; and, indeed, as Hallam observes, the Frenchman's literary importance largely results from the share which his mind had in influencing other minds, coeval and subsequent. But, at the same time, estimating the value and rank of the essayist, we are not to leave out of the account the drawbacks and the circumstances of the period: the imperfect state of education, the comparative scarcity of books, and the limited opportunities of intellectual intercourse. Montaigne freely borrowed of others, and he has found men willing to borrow of him as freely. We need not wonder at the reputation which he with seeming facility achieved. He was, without being aware of it, the leader of a new school in letters and morals. His book was different from all others which were at that date in the world. It diverted the ancient currents of thought into new channels. It told its readers, with unexampled frankness, what its writer's opinion was about men and things, and threw what must have been a strange kind of new light on many matters but darkly understood. Above all, the essayist uncased himself, and made his intellectual and physical organism public property. He took the world into his confidence on all subjects. His essays were a sort of literary anatomy, where we get a diagnosis of the writer's mind, made by himself at different levels and under a large variety of operating influences.
The Day I Became Free

The Day I Became Free

Thanksgiving was supposed to be a day of gratitude and family. I' d worked double shifts, saved every penny to buy my mom, Maria, a warm winter coat. I even clung to a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, today would be different, that she'd finally see my efforts. But my brother, Caleb, saw a massive banner for a 'Gratitude Exchange' TV show, offering a new PSX-Pro console. Maria didn't hesitate. She looked at me, then at the gaming system, and declared, "Why spend money when you have all that gratitude? It's not like it does anyone any good." My heart shattered as she forced me to sign a contract, agreeing to trade "my gratitude for her" for a video game. On live television, they hooked us up to a memory scanner. Maria and Caleb twisted my past, painting me as an ungrateful, destructive monster to the whole country. They exposed selective, ugly moments, cheering as the 'Approve Trade' vote soared, while I stood there, voiceless, watching my own mother publicly erase me. How could she? How could my own mother weaponize my memories against me, fabricating a monstrous version of her daughter for a new gaming console? Was my entire existence, my endless sacrifices, truly worth less than a toy? But then, it was my turn. As my memories flashed across the screen, the real story unfolded: my sacrifices, their manipulations, their true cruelty revealed to the world. And as the public' s outrage turned the vote decisively in my favor, I knew exactly what I had to do. This wasn't just about a console; it was about freedom.