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Young Adult Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
The Player Wants Me?!

The Player Wants Me?!

Sequel To "My Bestfriends, The Players And I". You should probably read that first but it isn't necessary but for it to make more sense. "So you know who I am then?" He asked, smirking. "Most people do. But yes, you're Kian Wilde. The Bad boy. The Player. The Heart breaker." I say and he smirked. "Nice to know what you think of me as" he says with a wink. "That isn't what I think of you" I smirk back, returning the wink. "What do you think of me then?" He asked with a small smirk. "Oh you know. It isn't what most of the girls would say." I say with a small giggle. His smirk widens. "I'd say you were an absolute asshole, A manwhore, A jerk who needs to learn that using girls gets you nowhere in life." I say giving him a sweet smile. The smirk on his face, dropped. Issabelle Evans. She is popular, she is pretty, she is nice. She has boys dropping at her feet but since her previous boyfriend, she is scared of getting close to boys. Ryder Evans. He is popular, he is good looking, he is nice. Girls are lining up to be with him but he doesn't really care about having a girlfriend though, he just cared about looking and protecting his twin sister, Issabelle. Kian Wilde. He is the player, the bad boy, the player of the school. He has girls queuing to be with him, like Ryder. He was also gorgeous. When he notices Issabelle for the first time, he thinks she is beautiful. With heart break, dark daunting pasts and bright, fun futures, Kian and Issabelle find themselves finding themselves getting closer and closer. Closer than ever.
Untamed Emotions

Untamed Emotions

Have you ever fallen in love with the wrong person? Or,,have you ever liked someone you shouldn't even have gotten close to? This story is about two teenagers who fell in love with each other even though they shouldn't. Why??? . . . Gray Connor a 18_years old teenager in his final grade in high school,the last son of president Connor who have been betrothed to Emma from birth. It's an agreement between both families that these two are going to get married when they are old enough. It went like that for years,,Gray and Emma are best friends from childhood. And as they grow up their love continue to grow along with them,but the problem is Gray doesn't love Emma more than a friend. He doesn't feel anything for her than just best friends,whereas Emma can die for Gray's love. A very protective girlfriend no other girl want to ever mess with her boyfriend. Gray doesn't have a choice than to just give in,,he already made up his mind to try his best in loving Emma back,does he have a choice? It continued this way until a strange girl came to their school,,and then the story changed. Who is this girl? Meet Quinn Spencer,,she's pretty,no,she's hot,cat eyes,plump lips,average in height,long and straight legs,long curly black hair,16,never had a boyfriend and never thinking of having one,just here to study and leave. You can describe her attitude as smart and gentle at the same time,,meeting new people is one of the things she hates. A normal guy will fall in love with her at first sight She's not rude,she's so cool but isn't clumsy either ,she's someone you will love without her trying to impress you,she's so lively,lovely and damn beautiful like the stars Her mom is a very disciplined woman,she already Gave her the rules And the top list is " No dating until you're eighteen " Which she's not ready to break any moment from now to avoid her mom's anger,, 'I have two more years to go,,and I will be free' She had said to herself when she clocked 16 few months ago Only if she knew things are about changing, . . . So what do you think happened when she joined the school??
His Humiliation, Her Freedom

His Humiliation, Her Freedom

For seven years, I lived in Liam Sterling' s shadow, meticulously crafting his academic success. Tonight, at our graduation party, he stood on stage, arm around his new girlfriend, Skye Miller, and publicly humiliated me. He announced they were going to Northwood Community College, then suggested I come along, sneering, "You know you can' t manage without me telling you what to do. It' s for the best." Murmurs and snickers filled the room. "His lapdog." "He owns her." Humiliation burned my cheeks, but this time, something snapped. The suffocating feeling that had always compelled my obedience vanished. All the years of silent suffering exploded into rage. When Liam, unaccustomed to resistance, tried to order me around again, I looked him straight in the eye. "No," I said, my voice clear and loud for the first time. His face reddened, but I wasn' t done. "I' m not going to community college with you, Liam. I' m not going anywhere with you." His control shattered, Liam escalated. He and Skye led a mob to my house, turning my sanctuary into a frat party. They poured wine on my graduation dress, laughed at my humiliation, and when I saw my grandmother' s locket-a precious heirloom-around Skye' s neck, a piece of my soul was torn. Liam had stolen it from my room and given it to her. "It' s just a piece of cheap metal, Ava," he scoffed. "It was my grandmother' s! It' s all I have left of her!" I cried, but he just said, "Get over it." Then, Skye whispered to Liam about my college applications, suggesting he destroy my future. My heart pounded as he headed for my room, a cruel smile on his face. No! My future. My laptop. He publicly deleted my Ivy League applications, replacing them with Northwood Vocational School, and submitted it. Then, he smashed my laptop. They dragged me to the basement, locking me in, knowing my deepest fear. My world ended there, swallowed by darkness and their laughter. But somewhere, a father was about to get a call, and Liam Sterling was about to learn a very painful lesson.
Her Death, Their Sinful Secret

Her Death, Their Sinful Secret

The first time Chloe died, I wasn't there. I was in the library, trying to finish a paper, when a text from our friend Emily shattered my world: "Something happened at the dorm. Come back. Now." I ran, only to find flashing lights and yellow tape around our building. Emily, pale and shaking, whispered the horror: "It' s Chloe. She… she fell." The university moved with chilling speed, declaring it a tragic suicide, scrubbing every trace of her from our room as if she never existed. My best friend, gone. But I knew Chloe. She wouldn't just jump. The bruises, the whispered phone calls to a blocked number that made her face tighten with fear-they screamed something else. I tried to tell the police, but they dismissed it, already closing the case. The university wanted me quiet, gone, just like Chloe' s memory. In a haze of grief and rage, I remembered her hidden burner phone and secret journal. I knew they held the truth. That night, I snuck back into our room, found them, and a terrifyingly large man in a dark suit appeared, attacking me. I woke up with a throbbing head, confused, but the buzzing alarm clock confirmed it: Wednesday, 7:00 AM. May 18th. Then I saw her. Chloe, alive, humming at her desk. I had woken up three days in the past. This was my second chance. I could save her. But I failed. Even knowing, even running, I was too late. I watched her fall again, this time on a Wednesday. Despair threatened to swallow me whole, but then a cold, hard determination set in. They had taken everything the first time, covered it up. Not this time. I couldn't save her life, but I could get justice. And the key was the phone and the journal-still hidden where I' d left them in the original timeline. When university officials, including Dean Peterson and the terrifying man who attacked me, burst into my room to silence me, I had a choice. Beg for help? Or fight back? I dialed 911, then deliberately smashed the window, screaming for real police attention. When they finally arrived, I knew my physical evidence was gone. Dean Peterson's smug face confirmed it. So, I played my last card. I looked the officer dead in the eye and said, "I pushed her. I killed my best friend." It was a monstrous lie, a suicide bomb of a confession, but it forced their hand. A suicide they could bury; a murder, they had to investigate. Sitting in the interrogation room, recounting the nightmare to Detective Anderson, the impossible truth started to break through. He listened, he saw the inconsistencies, and for the first time, someone believed me. Chloe's journal and the burner phone, retrieved by my bewildered friend Emily, laid bare the horrifying truth: Dean Peterson was pimping out vulnerable female students, including Chloe, to powerful, wealthy university trustees like the HIV-positive Mr. Thompson. Chloe's death wasn't suicide; it was murder, a desperate escape from a web of abuse and control. My false confession cost me my freedom, my reputation, my sanity, but it ignited a firestorm. The corrupt system crumbled, Thompson and Peterson jailed for life. Standing at Chloe' s grave, the fight over, I knew for the first time: we did it. We changed her story. And no one else would suffer like her again.