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Fantasy Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Predictive Text Couldn't Predict Our Love

Predictive Text Couldn't Predict Our Love

My world was painted with words nobody else could see, predictive text shimmering over everyone, even future adoptive families. When the chance came to pick a family, the perfect Hendersons offered sunny picnics and acceptance, but the text over Liam Henderson screamed a crimson warning: "AVOID AT ALL COSTS. Heartbreak." Instead, it pointed to Blake Sterling, a boy drowned in the corner, with a soft blue message: "RECOMMENDED. A cold and difficult beginning. This boy is broken, but you are the key to his healing." I chose him, stepping into a life of cold silence, a museum of a house, and a father who disappeared even when he was home. What started as quiet mutual support quickly devolved. Blake's mother's death, a supposed "wellness program," became his obsession, fueling a terrifying need for revenge against the Hendersons and Dr. Evelyn Reed. He was falling apart, spray-painting their mansion, self-destructing. Desperate, I confessed my secret, my ability to see the "text," telling him it warned me about his dangerous path. Then, the true horror unfolded: the 'wellness program' wasn't just for his mother. Blake found a list, and my name was on it. The text I saw, my supposed "gift," wasn't magic-it was a side effect of the same experimental trial that killed his mother. I was a lab rat, just like her. And then, his father-Mr. Sterling-came into focus. Not only had he known the program was dangerous, he' d taken money to keep quiet about the 'wellness program' and its child victims, including me. The connection between Blake and me shattered, a bond born of shared pain now poisoned by his father' s monstrous betrayal. Blake turned on me, his eyes filled with terror, accusing me of being part of the conspiracy, a living symbol of his family's betrayal. I was alone again, more lost than in the orphanage, the text over my head a flat, dead gray: "Connection Severed." But then, a terrifying alert flashed, not for Blake, but for the man who had destroyed us both: "CRITICAL ALERT: STERLING SENIOR. ALCOHOL AND PRESCRIPTION DRUG INTERACTION. LETHAL PROBABILITY: 95%." Our personal tragedy was about to be eclipsed, and I knew-we had to save him.
The Game She Played

The Game She Played

The doctor's words echoed, a distant hum, yet crystal clear: "Congratulations, Mrs. Prescott, you're pregnant!" My husband Ethan beamed beside me, his grip on my hand tightening, a wide, genuine smile lighting his face – the kind of pure joy I hadn't seen in far too long. He pulled me into a hug, his voice booming with happiness that filled the sterile room. But a cold dread pierced me, deeper than any clinic air conditioning. This exact moment. I remembered it. In my last life, this pregnancy, this supposed joy, became the very weapon they used against me. Chloe, Ethan's first choice, the woman he was supposed to marry, had returned. She feigned concern, using her 'wellness expertise' facade to get close. She then whispered poison in Ethan' s ear, painting me as a burden, before orchestrating my 'accident' – a fall that led to the tragic loss of my child, and soon after, my own broken, wasted death. I could still hear Chloe's voice, soft and venomous, as I lay bleeding: "You were always beneath us, Ava. Just in the way." That memory burned, a raw wound in my soul. The sheer injustice of their cruelty, the depths of their betrayal, still sent ice through my veins. How could I have been so naive, so easily discarded? The confusion, the despair from that past life resurfaced, potent and suffocating. But this time, I was ready. The knowledge wasn't a shroud, but a shield. I blinked, forcing a fragile smile. My new goal was clear, etched in the pain of my past: survive, protect my child, and utterly destroy them.
Electra

Electra

Electra tells an electric tale of a young girl named April. After encountering a strange rainstorm in a terribly realistic dream, April wakes up to new changes around herself. She is suddenly transformed and has electrifying power beyond her, that causes disasters around her when out of control. Although it gets her to places others could never get to, she is yet to see the dark side of this power... It poses as a threat that could wipe out the whole world and her own existence. Would this be the end for her and the world? Or would these electrifying powers become her new beginning? Find out as you journey into this story, you don't wanna miss out! 😍😍😍 *Extract From The Story* April's eyes welled up with serious tears. Her exposed palms collected them and lightening striked in the sky, then more came running down her cheeks. Before she knew it, her tears disappeared, and her eyes glowed with an electric blue light. Her palms started shocking with visible electricity around it, and her hair glowed and glowed with electricity. Her personality changed completely, she looked like an electric goddess. " Electra!!!" She heard them screaming in her head. Her eyes became fierce, and her aura was murderous. She snapped her face towards the car door. When her eyes met the car door, it blew off the car and was sent flying to everyone in front of it. The big metal door hit them and they landed upon the ground while the door stayed heavily upon them. Aaaaaarrrrgghh!!!" She screamed monstrously while electricity emitted from her body, and the force of her voice came like a strong wind... You want to read more right? Then click on the story to continue.
My Fiancé, My Murderer

My Fiancé, My Murderer

The Greyhound bus hummed, a low rumble promising a new life at the Boeing apprenticeship program, far from this dead-end town. My fiancé, Jake, stood blocking the bus depot doorway, radiating control, scanning the street for Brittany Smith. But this wasn't the first time I'd lived this moment; in my last life, Jake’s hands had closed around my throat on our wedding night, his eyes blazing, blaming me for Brittany's tragic end. Now, I was back at the same bus stop, and he was once again holding everyone’s acceptance letters and bus tickets hostage, waiting for her, wielding a Zippo as a silent threat. He reveled in his power, convinced his County Commissioner father’s influence was an impenetrable shield, openly mocking our desperate hope to escape this town. The chilling truth hit me like a physical blow: Jake was reborn too, seemingly to ensure Brittany’s success this time, but embodying a far more calculated cruelty. Why was fate so twisted, bringing me back to this precise, suffocating moment of manipulation, when the memory of my horrific death still burned? This time, I let my hand fall from his arm, a silent promise to myself that my feigned compliance was a trap he’d never see coming. Because this time, I was playing a different game, armed with the precise knowledge to expose his family’s corruption and Brittany’s lies, ensuring their carefully constructed dreams would spectacularly collapse.
Betrayed By Family: A Daughter's Vengeance

Betrayed By Family: A Daughter's Vengeance

My summer internship was everything: a path to my dream career in marketing, years of hard work finally paying off. Then my parents dropped a bombshell. My estranged rockstar uncle was gravely ill, and I, his favorite niece, had been chosen to be his full-time caregiver. They spun a tale of liver problems, but a glowing blue text only I could see whispered a darker truth: "They' re not worried about his health, they' re worried about his royalties. Rick' s music just got licensed for a huge movie. They want to make sure they' re in his will." My refusal was met with a cold, hard slap across the face, and the devastating news: "It' s done, Chloe. There' s no internship to go back to." They' d sabotaged my future, then casually explained: "We' ve already made the arrangements." The email from my dream firm confirmed it: "rescind our internship offer…wish you the best in your recovery." Recovery? What were they talking about? They took my ID, my money, my car keys. Then I overheard my mother' s chilling words: "Rick' s viral load is extremely high… a little contact… a shared utensil… a simple solution. Once she' s sick too, she' ll have no choice but to be quiet." My own mother was planning to infect me with HIV. I bolted, running into the night, only to find my father' s mistress and instigate a chaotic scene, creating my escape. But they weren' t done. A viral video appeared, featuring my tearful parents. "Our daughter, Chloe, is very sick," my father stated, "She contracted HIV through a promiscuous lifestyle… she developed a severe gambling addiction. She stole all of our savings…" Hatred flooded the comments. My name, reputation, and future were completely destroyed. Who would believe me over my grieving, concerned parents? I was utterly alone, but one thought burned through my despair: they wouldn' t get away with this.