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Billionaires Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
The Jilted Heiress And Her Ruthless Savior

The Jilted Heiress And Her Ruthless Savior

My fiancé, Howell, bought every red rose on the East Coast and dumped them on the campus quad. My roommates thought it was the apology of the century, begging for me back. But I have a fatal pollen allergy. If I walked into that heart-shaped sea of flowers, my throat would swell shut in minutes. "He's an idiot," my friend yelled. "How does your fiancé forget your medical history?" I just pulled out my EpiPen and put on a mask. "They are not for me." They were for Carrie, the manipulative girl he had repeatedly chosen over me. For years, he blamed me every time she put him in danger, eventually breaking our engagement to protect her fragile act. While he waited for her in that deadly cloud of pollen, Carrie was busy dropping a heavy terracotta pot from a third-floor balcony, slicing my arm to the bone. When Howell finally called Carrie's name on the megaphone, the embarrassed crowd panicked and fled. I was caught in the stampede. A girl slammed into me, ripping my fresh stitches wide open. As hot blood poured down my arm and my lungs burned from the distant rose oil, I watched Howell smile at the girl who was actively trying to kill me. The absolute selfishness of it erased my last drop of pity. Just as my knees buckled, a massive arm wrapped tightly around my waist. Darion Green, the ruthless and untouchable student body president, scooped me up into his chest, his pitch-black eyes glaring at the crowd with murderous fury.
His Mistress

His Mistress

She came here to clear her chaotic mind after witnessing her husband and his mistress having sex in their bedroom. She was furious, because even though she didn't love him, she remained loyal. She didn't want to destroy the family they had built, even if their marriage was just a business arrangement. She tried to love her husband and even wanted to have a child with him, but something always felt missing. It was as if he was searching for something more, and she could feel it too. But that didn't justify what he did. She had every right to file charges against them, but she didn't. Her husband begged her not to and promised he would never do it again. To cool her head, she decided to go to Elite Bar for the first time and have a vodka. Thankfully, their daughter was asleep when it happened, because if she hadn't been, she would have definitely filed for adultery and concubinage. "Hey there, beautiful lady. Why are you here alone? No friends with you or a boyfriend Wait, you're married?" the man commented in shock as he noticed the ring on her finger. She was mesmerized by his looks. He had amber eyes like copper, making her lose her senses. His aristocratic nose was striking from every angle, with thick lashes and brows that any woman would envy. A sharp jawline accentuated his masculinity, and his perfect white teeth and red lips looked irresistibly tempting. His top-knot hairstyle only added to his Adonis-like face. "What's your name?" he asked, surprising even himself with the boldness, considering she was clearly already taken. He grinned widely. "Damn, women who belong to others always seem drawn to me. But anyway..." He extended his hand. "I'm Erin De'Lucas. Single." His gaze deepened. Ember couldn't help but trace her eyes over his body, stunned by how sexy and hot he was. He wore a black shirt and black pants, and he had a piercing in his left eyebrow. She took his hand almost involuntarily, feeling his grip tighten. "I-I'm Ember Vernon. Nice to meet you." "You're beautiful," he gasped, caressing her face. "T-Thank you," she stammered, her voice weak. She wasn't sure if it was the vodka or just a natural reaction to him. He tilted his head, looking deeply into her eyes. "I don't normally interfere with other people's relationships, but seeing you right now, looking so stunning, makes me want to break my own rules. I want you to be mine." His breath was hot against her ear, sending shivers through her body. "Huh?" She was stunned by his words. He chuckled seductively and held her hand, staring at the ring darkly. "Will you give me the honor of being your other man, mi hermosa?" His gaze seemed to pierce her very soul. His aura screamed danger, yet she found herself drawn to it. She was married to Tyson, after all, and they had a daughter, Easter. But they didn't love each other-what was holding her back? Her daughter. "I-I don't-" Before she could finish, he covered her mouth with his large hand, her eyes widening in shock. His jaw tightened. "I don't accept rejection. I've had enough of it. Whether you like it or not, I'm already your other man. I don't care if you're married. I like you, and I want you to be mine. That's final, and you can't stop me from claiming you, starting tonight, mi reina." His voice was cold and dangerous. "Even your husband won't be able to stop me from having an affair with someone like you. This is your fault-you've captured my attention and my heart. Now face the consequences of being too irresistible." Without knowing how, she found herself agreeing as they sealed it with a torrid kiss that lasted all night. "I'm officially your forbidden love affair now, Mi Reina." Maybe it was time for her husband to taste his own medicine.
Falling For My Dead Husband's Ghost

Falling For My Dead Husband's Ghost

To save my brother's life, I married a dead billionaire. My new home was a freezing, high-tech mausoleum where I was ordered to hold a year-long vigil beside Byron Hyde's cryogenic pod. But I wasn't alone in the dark. Every night, a terrifying shadow smelling of whiskey and sandalwood pinned me to my narrow bed. It tore my clothes and brutally claimed my body, leaving me bruised and trembling until dawn. When I begged the housekeeper for help, showing her my torn skin, she just smiled cruelly. "It seems the master's spirit has accepted you." I thought I was being haunted by a vengeful ghost, until Byron's arrogant nephew broke into the tomb to assault me. His tampering triggered the life-support system, and the heavy lid of the pod hissed open. Byron Hyde sat up, his eyes lethal and his skin shockingly warm. He was alive. Looking at his broad shoulders, I caught the faint scent of whiskey and sandalwood. The horrific truth hit me like a physical blow. My nightly tormentor wasn't a ghost. It was my living, breathing husband. When I confronted him, his eyes were cold and clinical. "That was a necessary test. I had to know if my wife would break." A white-hot rage choked me, but I didn't scream or run. He slipped the priceless, heavy sapphire of the family matriarch onto my finger, offering me absolute power over the treacherous relatives who wanted us both dead. To fight a monster, you can't be a victim. I looked into his deep, dangerous eyes and accepted the ring. If this was a cage, allying with the keeper was the only way to find the key.
Bound By The Billionaire's Golden Leash

Bound By The Billionaire's Golden Leash

For two years, I lived as a ghost in the Horn manor, a world built on blood money where my every breath was monitored. Fulton Horn, my stepfather’s nephew and the executor of my life, held the golden leash around my neck, forcing me to play the role of his secret mistress while he paraded a socialite as his fiancée. Everything shattered at a high-society gala when the scent of raw seafood made me vomit at the feet of Fulton’s future bride. The ballroom erupted in whispers of a secret pregnancy, but Fulton’s reaction wasn't concern—it was cold, predatory calculation. He immediately forced me into a clinical "inspection" to ensure his "merchandise" was sound, then destroyed my only chance at escape by framing my friend in a scandal and blacklisting my credit. He dragged me to his penthouse, ripped my clothes, and told me I was nothing but a "placeholder" for his dead first love, Arlena. I was drowning in his obsession, forced to model his fiancée’s engagement gown while he claimed he was the only one who could "protect" me. "You are what I say you are," he whispered, "and you belong where I say you belong." I didn't understand how he could be so cruel, or why he was so determined to keep me in a cage of secrets. But when I looked closer at the photo of the "original" girl he loved, my blood turned to ice. It wasn't a girl named Arlena. It was a picture of me from six years ago, smiling and unbroken. I realized then that Fulton hadn't just found a replacement—he had spent years carefully destroying the girl I used to be so he could keep the broken pieces for himself. Reaching for the hidden keycard, I finally made a choice: I would find a way to kill the ghost he loved before he finished killing the woman I had become.