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Billionaires Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Possessive Womanizer Husband

Possessive Womanizer Husband

"Vincent, Mama is looking for you. Aren't you going home?" Athan asked the twins. I faced Ethan, who was staring at the girl next to him at the bar. "Nope. I'm busy," he said absentmindedly. I just shook my head. Ethan remained focused on the girl's thigh beside him. Damn playboy. "Ah, okay. I'm leaving then. Text Mama, okay?" Athan bid farewell. Without a word, he walked away, leaving me dumbfounded, watching him go. "You like my bro?" Ethan teased. I faced him before taking another sip. "Like is for kids, Ethan," I rolled my eyes. Shortly after, a tray of shot glasses arrived. It was placed in front of us. He smiled at me before locking eyes. "Oh, then love?" he chuckled. I took a shot glass before shaking my head again. I rolled my eyes. "Like, duh! Yuck, you believe in that?!" "Hell, no. Of course not," he replied. I glanced at him before nodding. "At least we have something in common," I said, taking another shot. He followed suit. "Really, I thought girls like you believe in fairy tales. Like Mr. Right," he teased, barely holding back laughter. I choked on my sixth glass before shaking my head. "You say that again, and I swear, I will make you shut up," I said in irritation. Ethan's thoughts about fairy tales and Mr. Right disgusted me. Did I look like a naive twelve-year-old girl? "Oh, you can't make me shut up, baby," he arrogantly replied, moving his face closer. I inched mine towards him too. "Wanna bet?" I challenged. His lips quirked up, mischief gleaming in his green eyes. He stood up and approached me. "Sure. If I win, you'll stay at my pad tonight," he confidently said. I resisted the urge to blush at his words, meeting his gaze. "And?" "And I will rock your world, babe."
Marrying My Ex's Billionaire Brother

Marrying My Ex's Billionaire Brother

I stood alone in the grand lobby of City Hall. It was exactly noon, and my marriage reservation had officially expired. My fiancé, Caleb, didn't show up. Instead, my best friend sent me a video of him at a high-end Manhattan club. He was wearing his tailored wedding suit, pushing a massive five-tier birthday cake for his sister, Isla. When I rushed to the VIP booth to confront him, Caleb wasn't apologetic at all. He instinctively shielded Isla behind his body while his wealthy friends laughed at me. "Are you done throwing a tantrum? Did you really have to come here and humiliate her on her birthday?" Isla leaned into his chest, fake-crying and begging me not to be mad. Caleb glared at me, warning me that if I walked out the door today, I should never come back to beg him. Looking at the man I was supposed to marry, I felt completely disgusted. For three years, he had canceled our anniversaries and dinners every time Isla had a headache or felt lonely. He genuinely believed his blatant favoritism was justified, leaving me to look like the villain. I realized I had just wasted my youth on a dog. I pulled off my diamond ring, smashed it hard into the top of the expensive cake, and walked away. Just as I left the club, my phone rang. It was Julian Blackwood, Caleb's ruthless, billionaire older brother. "Since you planned on getting married today, you might as well change the groom," his deep voice said. "Become his sister-in-law, and make him bow his head to you." I clenched my ID card and walked straight toward his Rolls-Royce.
The Discarded Heiress Princess

The Discarded Heiress Princess

A tiny, innocent baby girl was found curled up near a dumpster behind the city hospital. Her cries pierced the night, but no one cared. Wrapped in a threadbare blanket-her only witness to a betrayal no one saw. Elsewhere in the city, another baby girl slept peacefully in the arms of an elegant woman, in a bed adorned with gold. Her name was Celestine Avarelle, daughter of the wealthiest and most powerful family in the country. She grew up with love, the best education, and all the luxuries money could buy. They were twins. But only one was acknowledged by the world. While Celestine learned to play piano and dance ballet, her twin-Seraphina Vale-clung to life with bloodied hands. She was raised in the dark alleys of orphanages and the streets of the city. Poverty was her mother. Humiliation and loneliness were her family. But Seraphina never gave up. Behind her cold gaze burned a fire that never faded-a fire that demanded answers. Who was she? Why was she discarded? And most of all... who was to blame? As fragments of the past began to surface, Seraphina's world changed forever. A misplaced medical record, an old letter, and a reopened scar-all led to one truth: she was the daughter who was switched, discarded on purpose to protect the Avarelle family's name. Now, Seraphina stands between two choices: take back the life that should have been hers... or exact revenge in a way that will change their world forever. Because not everything that is thrown away stays lost. Some return to burn everything down.
The Billionaire Transient Wife

The Billionaire Transient Wife

Not many people walk down the streets of New York drunk, especially in the middle of the day. They usually rush along the sidewalks and cross the streets, trying to race with time to earn more money. But not Cassandra. She was taking her precious time wandering around, struggling to walk in a straight line. Trying to keep her smile to herself, she looked around her, wondering why these people wore poker faces as they talked on their phones while walking briskly down the street. She was thankful she was self-employed—well, as what she would call it. Cassandra took a deep breath, the taste of beer still lingering in her mouth. She had been drinking since lunch time for no apparent reason. She squeezed her eyes for a better vision as she slowly walked while trying hard not to drop on the ground every time a passerby bumped into her. She felt her way to the wall and leaned against it, breathing heavily. She shouldn't have drank that much, she thought. Her hands were getting numb, her feet losing their strength. I'm going to faint right here if I don't find somewhere to rest, she murmured to herself. Hope abandoned her when she saw the long crowded street and even her blurred sight was a hindrance. She knew the street very well and she was pretty aware that there was not a place to rest. Fine, I'll sit anywhere then. Squinting one eye, she walked toward the nearest store and dropped on the bottom step, trying to keep her head high. If she dropped it any lower, she'd definitely throw up right there and then. Her phone started ringing again. She didn’t answer. She knew it was her father and he had been asking to see her since last week. She thought she should call him tomorrow, once she was back to her sober self. Cassandra didn't have a problem really—she was just like that. She did anything that came to her mind without thinking. When she had ordered her first bottle, she reasoned she wanted to celebrate her upcoming exhibit. When the second one came, she thought she was celebrating life. On the succeeding bottles, thoughts of celebration flew out the window. She stood up after her head cleared a little bit. She needed a cup of coffee, and she knew just the place for a perfect one. The rest must have done something good for she found it less difficult to find her way to the coffee shop. "My head is throbbing, I need a strong one," she told the lady behind the counter the moment she entered the shop. "What would you like?" Cassandra looked up at the menu, the letters merging into one. "Just...fix me something strong." "Okay, one really strong cappuccino coming up," the lady smiled. She fumbled in her purse for some coins, handed the lady a handful and said, "Just get the exact amount. I have trouble counting at the moment," The lady looked at her curiously but did as she asked. She handed Cassandra the rest of the coins and said, "I'll serve you your coffee if you want.” She must have noticed her customer struggling to stay on her feet. "Thanks. That will be great." Cassandra went to the nearest table and made herself comfortable, resting her chin on her hand. "Cassandra Anders?" a male voice said over her. "Hmm?" was all she could muster. She sensed some movement across the table from her and when she peered through her heavy lids, she noticed that a man was sitting at the empty chair facing her. "I'm Philip Strindberg and I need to talk to you." "Come back at a good time," she slurred and closed her eyes once again. "Now is the best time," the voice was now etched with irritation so she opened her eyes once again to look at the man, her bluish gray ones meeting his blue ones. "Best time for what?" she asked, not really in the mood for a chat. "To give you an offer you surely won't resist." She snorted, "And what is that?" "To be my wife." The alcohol that had been flowing like crazy through her veins stopped and drained down her head as she looked up at the handsome stranger in disbelief.
The Unwanted Wife's Spectacular Comeback

The Unwanted Wife's Spectacular Comeback

For three years, Corinna swallowed her pride and lived as the obedient, invisible wife of billionaire Holland Warner. But at a high-society gala, someone shoved a phone in her face. The headline screamed that her husband had just bought a $50 million penthouse for his mistress. At that exact moment, her private phone rang. Her brother had collapsed in the ICU. The hospital needed five hundred thousand dollars by midnight, or they would pull the plug. She desperately called her trust fund manager, only to be told her allowance was frozen. When she called Holland, his mistress answered, laughing at her pathetic begging while the shower ran in the background. Fifty million for a love nest, but not a single dime to save Corinna's dying brother. When she finally woke up, signed the divorce papers, and left to rebuild her life as a jewelry designer, Holland didn't let her go. He used his Wall Street empire to evict her, cut off her suppliers, and blacklist her brand overnight. Corinna didn't understand why he was so determined to crush her. He never loved her, so why did he think his money gave him the absolute right to control her soul and watch her drown? Instead of breaking down, she put on a cheap thrift-store suit and walked straight into the Warner Group headquarters. She slammed a stack of his family's illegal financial records right onto his mahogany desk. "Sign the divorce papers," Corinna told him coldly. "Or I will show the world what kind of monster runs this empire."