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Billionaires Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Left At The Altar: Marrying The Billionaire

Left At The Altar: Marrying The Billionaire

At my million-dollar wedding to the Hoffman heir, the priest was interrupted by a ringing phone. My groom, Elijah, didn't silence it. He answered it right at the altar, yanked his arm from my grasp, and walked out because his "true love" Jalyn needed him. I was left standing alone in front of three hundred elite guests, blinded by mocking camera flashes. My own mother rolled her eyes in disgust, later threatening to freeze my trust fund and sell me to a notorious playboy to recoup her losses. Elijah even had the nerve to call me, demanding I take the blame for the canceled wedding to save his PR, while live news feeds showed him cradling a fragile Jalyn in the hospital. I had spent two years bending over backward to be his perfect bride, only to be discarded like trash. What made it sicker was finding out that Jalyn's sudden "medical emergency" was actually a ruptured cyst caused by having vigorous sex with Elijah right before he walked down the aisle. I refused to let them destroy me. Kicking off my six-inch heels, I stepped down from the altar and walked straight to the back row where Cristian Lowe sat. He was the ruthless iceberg of Wall Street and Elijah's most terrifying rival. I looked up at his sharp jawline and asked the craziest question of my life. "Will you marry me?" He stood up, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "As you wish."
My Ex's "C" Was Never Me

My Ex's "C" Was Never Me

Another wire transfer pinged. It was another "apology payment" from Victoria Sterling, my girlfriend of five years. This one was different: $500,000. Far more than her usual fifty thousand, a sum that had already made me secretly rich. I' d played the role of the devoted, slightly naive boyfriend perfectly for too long. But this unprecedented amount felt less like an apology and more like a severance. Then, a video message arrived from Dylan Price, from Vicky' s social circle. It showed Vicky at a party, her arms wrapped around a young man, kissing him deeply. He looked unsettlingly like me, a younger, perhaps less worn version. Dylan' s text followed: "That' s Caleb Vance. Her childhood flame. Guess who\'s back?" Suddenly, Vicky' s pet name, "My C," and her online handles like "ForeverC," made a sickening kind of sense. I was never "C" for Ethan. I was a stand-in. A sharp pang of genuine hurt hit my chest. I remembered being a scholarship kid from Appalachia, chasing her, believing she saw something in me. Her friends had called me a "charity case." I later found her hidden love letters to Caleb, recently signed, calling me "just a boy, a distraction." When I finally confronted her during our breakup, she exploded. "You don\'t break up with me, Ethan. I decide when this is over! You belong to me!" I was shocked by the raw possessiveness in her voice. Her absolute conviction that she owned me, body and soul. She saw me as nothing more than an expensive pet, a compliant placeholder. How could I have been so blind, so foolishly naive for five years? But that immediate hurt quickly turned cold, pragmatic. If I was a substitute, I was a well-paid one. That $500,000 wasn't severance; it was a bonus for a long-term performance. With millions now in my accounts, I was financially independent. It was time to leave Vicky and her gilded cage behind.
'The Billionaire's Secret

'The Billionaire's Secret

"I just want to know why you're distancing yourself." "I want to know," he said with a deep sigh, his voice still trembling. "I want to know why you have to say those things to Yves!?" "What things?" "That you love me?" "Why? Don't I?" She sobbed even harder. Nena shook, her weakened arms slipping from the young man's grip, so Clint held onto her tighter. She shook her head in protest. "Don't I, Nena?" She shook her head. "N-No!" "No?!" he mocked despite his tears. "Didn't I make you feel it? You know my actions were stating it clearly, Nena. How much I want you, how much I need you, how much I hunger for you, damn it, Nena!" tears streamed down the man's cheeks. "How could you not feel it?" "If you love me, that sex is not the only basis!" she cried. "I needed something more than that! Love is what I needed, not just sex!" "My love was with it, with my kisses, with my every touch, Nena," the man weakly defended. "That's the only way I can show you I love you because I thought, I thought I haven't progressed yet. I loved before, and I believed he loved me because, like you, no matter how crude and foolish my actions were, it was okay. No matter how cruel I am to you, in bed or outside of it, you just took it. It's my fault if I hurt you; I am constantly testing you because..." He struggled to continue, a lump in his throat before exhaling it all, "I am constantly testing you because I promised myself that... if someone attempts to make me fall in love again, they should suffer for it. All my love, all my effort... everyone took them all for granted, way too many times, Nena! Too many! My family, my brother, that wretched two-timer, all of them! And deep down, I know that if you do the same to me and I don't take caution..." his lips quivered as tears continued to flow freely from his eyes, "... I think I'll die, Nena... I might die, Nena. I've only just started holding back my feelings for you, and it hurts so much." He bowed his head, tasting his own tears as they landed on his lips. "Why?" she cried. "Why like this?" She lifted her gaze to the man. "You're so unfair." Even her hands were shaking now, not just her voice. "They hurt you, yet you didn't make them suffer to feel loved. I, who truly love you, you make suffer!" "I'm sorry," he said, staring with tears wetting his face.
The Lying Game

The Lying Game

"You know I could end you. Right here, right now." "No you won't. You would have done that in the last three seconds if you wanted to, Angel..., but you've chosen to let me go." His deep blue eyes darkened as his gaze threatened to burn me for eternity for my web of lies. "What makes you so confident, Jade?." ~ Angel Axton is anything but your regular neighborhood artist. He loves his art, his beloved niece and his family, but his inner instincts kick up a notch when a new addition to the family arrives in a business suit, with a fix it attitude and a very mysterious aura. Knowing only luxury her whole life, Elena Chantel is traumatized when a single dark night takes her parents away in cold blood and turns her entire existence into a joke. From the pampered and loved daughter, she drops her flowers for a sword and signs a pact with a Ruthless Mafia lord. A final assignment as a nanny brings her closer to tasting revenge and delivers her into the Axton family a family with enough secrets to keep the city on their toes. Dedicated to her purpose, Elena is determined to turn a blind eye to raw male gorgeousness that drips from Angel Axton, the hot second son of the Axton family which threatens to deliver her to his bed. But when things take a hideous turn and her mission starts to reveal secrets of not only the family she had invaded but also secrets that questions her very existence, Elena wonders if she'd traveled too far, if there was still a way home."
His Perfect Crime, Her Perfect Comeback

His Perfect Crime, Her Perfect Comeback

The ghost of my right hand ached, a constant reminder of the car crash that stole my career as a concert pianist five years ago. My husband, tech mogul David Miller, had lovingly built me a gilded cage-a penthouse palace where I was his celebrated, wounded wife, a testament to my sacrifice. "It's a masterpiece, David. The whole thing," I overheard his best friend, Mark, say. "The comeback story, the adoring husband. You've played it perfectly." My fingers hovered over the piano keys in my studio. My breath caught. "Still," Mark pressed, his voice dropping, "that car crash... it was perfectly staged. How could you know Olivia would sacrifice her hand to save you?" My world crumbled. Staged? I crept to the library door, peeking through the crack. David, swirling amber liquid, smirked. "Because she loves me," he purred, "just as I love Sarah." Sarah Jenkins. His protégé. The brilliant pianist who had risen in my place. "Ollie was always in the way," he continued. "Her talent... it was too loud. Sarah needed a clear path. I gave her one." My hand flew to my mouth, stifling a scream. The charity galas, the custom gowns, the public adoration-it wasn't love. It was a cover-up. My agonizing years of practice, my belief that my music was a testament to our shared survival-all a grotesque joke. He hadn't honored my sacrifice; he'd celebrated his crime. My life, my love, my loss-all a meticulously crafted lie. My world didn't just crumble; it was obliterated. In the rubble, cold, hard revenge began to sprout. He thought he had silenced me, turned me into a beautiful, broken symbol. He was wrong. I would not be a guest performer at the Golden Rose. I would be a competitor. I would take back everything he had stolen. I would burn his entire empire to the ground.
Gold Digger Wait for the Billonaire's Breakup Fee Not The Marriage!

Gold Digger Wait for the Billonaire's Breakup Fee Not The Marriage!

Shirley had been Lucas' girlfriend since their university days-obedient, well-behaved, sweet, and innocent, always clinging to him like a delicate bird in love. However, no one believed that Shirley and Lucas would have a future together. Lucas came from a prestigious family, born into wealth and privilege. The moment he graduated, he swiftly eliminated his rivals and became the president of The William Family, standing at the pinnacle with a bright future ahead. Meanwhile, Shirley came from a modest background, unfamiliar with the ways of high society. Perhaps the luckiest thing that had ever happened to her in this lifetime was meeting Lucas, who was on an exchange program at their university. Lucas himself never thought they would last forever. But since their relationship had been pleasant over the years, he had no complaints. Just as he signed the check, preparing to break up with her, he unexpectedly stumbled upon an online diary Shirley had been keeping: Day 1 of waiting for Lucas' breakup fee: Hehe, officially his girlfriend now! So happy! ... Day 1674 of waiting for Lucas' breakup fee: Almost five years now. F***, Lucas, you monster, I will kill you. Lucas' face turned dark. Shirley had a strong feeling that Lucas was going to break up with her tonight. She suppressed her excitement, carefully did her makeup, curled her hair, put on her best dress, and wore her usual gentle and understanding smile, waiting to receive her well-earned eight-figure breakup fee. The candlelight from their dinner flickered on Lucas' face. Lucas put down his phone, suppressing his anger. Staring at the gentle, lovely smile in front of him, he suddenly said, "Shirley," "Let's get married."