Mafia Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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You Called Me Barren, Mr. Sterile Don
On my birthday, my husband Dante asked for a divorce over a plate of cold lasagna. He held my hand, tears in his eyes, and told me his mistress was pregnant. "It’s a miracle, Elena," he wept. "God has finally given me a son." He looked at me with pity, calling me "broken" because I hadn't given him an heir in eight years. He moved his pregnant mistress into the penthouse I paid for, and his mother mocked me as a "dry vine" while cooking tonic soups for the new woman. They didn't know the truth I had buried three years ago. I remembered the day the doctor slid the file across the desk: *Azoospermia. Zero sperm count.* Dante was the sterile one. I had burned the results to protect his fragile ego as a Mafia Don. I took the blame. I drank his mother's vile herbal poisons every morning until I vomited, just to keep his secret. Now, he was discarding me for a "miracle" that was biologically impossible. I signed the divorce papers without a tear. Then I bought the debt of his company, put on a blood-red dress, and walked into his heir's Christening. I didn't come to object. I came to plug a USB drive into the projector and show the entire underworld exactly whose "miracle" that baby really was./1/122066/coverorgin.jpg?v=bcba1bca1b5fa67e0da5b03a9246e1f6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
99 Roses for the Underboss's Wife
I was the brilliant money launderer for the most feared syndicate on the East Coast, and the fiercely loyal wife of its Underboss, Dante. While I worked sleepless nights to build his underworld dominion, he secretly diverted my operations to fund a luxury club for his naive barista mistress. When I confronted them and publicly exposed her, Dante didn't show a shred of guilt. Instead, he slapped me across the face in front of the entire syndicate. He draped his tailored jacket over his crying mistress to shield her, then turned his cold eyes on me. "Apologize to her right now, or I will send every single soldier in your crew to the slaughterhouse." He then weaponized the mafia's whisper network to destroy my reputation, painting me as a hysterical, paranoid woman just to legitimize his affair. For years, I had blindly endured his psychological torture, believing my devotion would eventually earn his respect. But looking at the brutal purple handprint on my cheek, and the ninety-nine dried bouquets of white roses he kept in the attic to carelessly patch over his toxic abuse, my heart finally turned to ice. I didn't throw a tantrum, nor did I beg for his love anymore. I left his apology blood diamonds on the table, drafted my mafia severance papers, and walked out of his territory for good. This time, I would build my own empire, and let him drown in the ruins of his./1/113925/coverorgin.jpg?v=4deabceeb44e4aed4e042acc3656d345&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shattered Loyalty, A New Beginning Blooms
I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."/1/122085/coverorgin.jpg?v=b1483e5cb239e7c1fbad6042cf803bc4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn To Ruin The Capo's Wedding
My mother is marrying a monster tomorrow. I'm the only one who remembers. My widowed mother was arranged to marry Lorenzo, a powerful Mafia Capo. I thought his status would finally bring us protection. But on the third day of their marriage, Lorenzo moved his pregnant mistress, Camilla, into the estate's master suite. She loudly claimed the child in her womb was the orphaned blood of a fallen soldier. "A Capo of Lorenzo's stature is doing your mother a service," the Syndicate wives mocked me, demanding we accept our place. Camilla systematically seized my mother's territory cuts and subjected her to endless psychological torture, while Lorenzo simply turned a blind eye. When the baby was born, it bore the exact same distinct birthmark on its neck as Lorenzo. Only then did we realize Lorenzo had used my mother as a convenient shield for his illicit affair, stealing my dead father's legacy and slowly draining our lives away. I didn't understand why the Family's brutal justice allowed a thief to siphon funds under the guise of caring for a martyr's widow, leaving us to die in absolute disgrace. Opening my eyes again, I was back to the day before the mob wedding. Looking at my six-year-old hands, I grabbed the torn marriage petition and stole the secret trust documents. This time, I ran straight to the heavily guarded gates of Don Salvatore, the most ruthless executioner in the city./1/120962/coverorgin.jpg?v=7d266e0efa211adbea23ffb2e3b74eda&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late For Regret, Underboss
For two years, my world was circumscribed by the biometric lock on our penthouse and silent prayers for my husband, Vincenzo, the most feared Underboss of the Cosa Nostra. But when he finally returned from a brutal three-week smuggling route, he tossed me a cheap five-dollar tourist scarf, while his ex-lover Camilla flaunted the flawless pearl necklace he had just bought her. He abandoned me with a bleeding hand to rush to her side, ignored my severe medical emergencies to comfort her over trivialities, and publicly humiliated me at a Syndicate banquet by seating her in my rightful place at the head of the table. Camilla cornered me in the powder room, her fragile victim facade dropping instantly as she smirked at my reflection. "The thing a powerful man fears most isn't a wife who screams. It's a useless one who refuses to bow out gracefully." I endured his blatant disrespect and broken Omertà, wondering why my unwavering loyalty meant nothing compared to the manipulative tears of a woman who was actively leaking his classified safehouse coordinates. I didn't understand why he treated his sacred vows like garbage, eagerly feeding her Syndicate intel just to play the big, strong hero while leaving me to face cartel death threats entirely alone. But I was done being the neglected mafia wife waiting in the shadows. I calmly activated the covert audio recording device hidden inside my designer clutch. It was time to present this irrefutable evidence to the Don's Tribunal, strip my husband of his title, and build my own empire./1/115570/coverorgin.jpg?v=b84bd05df0a2dbb469f1e85bf3917001&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Revenge Wedding: I Choose The Reaper
On my wedding day, the wedding planner looked at me with pity in her eyes. She told me the groom had called with a last-minute request. He wanted the name on the floral arch changed from "Elena" to "Sofia." Five years of loyalty to Dante Romero, and I found out he was planning a "secret" ceremony with his mistress an hour before ours. He claimed she was dying of cancer. He said it was her final wish to be a bride, and that as a good mafia wife, I should understand. He swore it was just charity. But I had seen the texts where he called me "furniture." I had watched him step over my body when I fell down the stairs at a club, just so he could leave with her. And this morning, I watched Sofia walk into the hotel lobby wearing *my* custom French lace wedding dress, smirking as she clung to his arm. Dante thinks I'm crying in the bridal suite. He thinks I will sit in the front row of his "fake" wedding and wait for my turn like a dutiful puppet. He is wrong. I wiped my tears and picked up my phone. I didn't cancel the wedding date. I just changed the location to the ballroom next door. And I changed the groom. As Dante says his vows to his mistress, I am walking down the aisle to meet the only man the Romero family fears. The Reaper./0/68171/coverorgin.jpg?v=8d037cc277a14aeeb9a729f9bbd42770&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Triplets' Daddy Is A Heartless Mafia
"It was just one night stand, and now I'm pregnant with triplets? Gosh!" Josephine Jade never thought that she would have to run away from her own family while pregnant. She was alone, without money, without connections, with three fetuses in her stomach. How can she survive? However, Josephine couldn't give up now, until she managed to reclaim her arbitrarily seized property and get back at everyone who tried to get rid of her. A sick child, a past crush that comes back, a mysterious eccentric man, and a family that hates her, will weave together the journey of Josephine Jade's new life. "You have no right to separate me from my children, you bastard! I will survive and you will submit to me. Just watch!"/1/114174/coverorgin.jpg?v=45760836591582815a9164dfb64b9b61&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Underboss's Wife, Now His Queen
I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play./1/122082/coverorgin.jpg?v=1f27ff4ae2f034c9f6abde21a1765612&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Greatest Loss: The Mafia Bride Who Never Looked Back
For five years, I was the perfect, silent fiancée to the most feared Underboss in the Cosa Nostra. On the eve of our wedding, I opened his sacred syndicate ledger and found a painstakingly detailed log of my best friend, Serena. He tracked the exact phases of her menstrual cycle and her preferred brand of imported painkillers. Yet just last month, when I was doubled over on the bathroom floor in agony, he refused to go to the pharmacy for me. "An Underboss does not run mundane errands," he had told me with flat, incurious eyes. He bought Serena a twelve-thousand-dollar blood-red gown, forced me into a cheap off-the-rack slip, and demanded she stand right between us at the altar. Worse, I discovered they were plotting to drain my parents' entire life savings to fund a money-laundering front for his illicit gambling operations. I had endured his coldness and emotional neglect, believing his severe mafia code applied to everyone. I never imagined he reserved every last measure of his humanity and warmth for the woman who was supposed to be my maid of honor. Looking at his handwriting, the blindfold finally fell from my eyes. I calmly photographed the damning pages, wired my parents' money to a secure offshore account, and sent a new directive to our wedding planner. If he wanted to give my best friend my place, I would make sure the entire underworld was there to witness it./1/116517/coverorgin.jpg?v=734fc8714389234e3530e8eb7f7c0456&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Ex's Regret: Married To His Enemy
For eight years, I was the Falcone mafia's top fixer and the Don's secret fiancée, taking bullets to keep his syndicate alive. But when my mother was crashing from heart failure, he refused to authorize her lifesaving surgery. I dropped to my knees in the middle of the crowded ballroom, begging him to make the call. Instead, Kieran didn't even flinch. He sat there meticulously folding a paper bird for his new favorite, Elena. "You are causing a scene, Sienna," he scolded me coldly. "And you completely forgot to pick up Elena's custom gown today. I am not rewarding your tantrums." He then publicly stripped me of my executive rank, gave my hard-earned Underboss title to Elena, and made a show of praising her—while the vintage diamond ring he had chosen in her favorite style still sat on my finger. I had died on the operating table three times to build his empire, yet he was willing to let my mother die over a delayed dress. The desperation in my gut congealed into a block of ice, and my lingering love completely burned away. I took off the ring and walked straight out of the Falcone estate into the freezing night. Outside, the Matriarch of his deadliest rival was waiting in an armored SUV. "My clinic can save her," she said smoothly. "But you know the price." I didn't even hesitate. "I will marry your son."/1/116781/coverorgin.jpg?v=c218501234d925a5eb22d42845cec70c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No Tears For My Cold Mafia Husband
On our first wedding anniversary, my husband walked out the door. Not for business. For her. I left the divorce papers on the table, my wedding ring next to his untouched champagne, and I disappeared into the night. For a year, I watched Dominic Rossi—the ruthless Underboss of the New York syndicate—drop everything the moment his phone buzzed with another crisis from Sophia. A panic attack. A sleepless night. A lie. I was his wife, the woman he’d promised to cherish, but I was never his priority. So I chose myself. Now he’s tearing the city apart trying to find me. But I’m already gone—building a new life with a job that’s mine, an apartment that’s mine, and a name that doesn’t belong to him. The girl who waited in that penthouse is dead. The woman who walked out isn’t looking back. When Dominic finally corners me, I see the cracks in his armor. He says he’s sorry. He says he loves me. He says he finally understands. But some words are too late, and some promises can’t be fixed. He made me guess for a year. Now it’s his turn to wonder if I’ll ever come back. A heart-wrenching, standalone mafia romance about a woman who refused to be second choice, and the man who learned too late what he’d lost./1/100249/coverorgin.jpg?v=500241bf6fe1e88ae390b71c991c1a78&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen
I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella. Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark. But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved. Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies. When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel. While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest. The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella. He ordered my father to punish me. I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth. That night, the love in my heart finally died. On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven. Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney. By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return./0/38678/coverorgin.jpg?v=93aa9f6a0390f824818b5a97362fa988&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Mafia Lord
BLURB He is highly respected because of his game and also feared because he is a ruthless Mafia Lord. She is a victim of bully from her uncle and his family for no just cause. She is also bullied in the school she attends and made an object of mockery. Fate brings the bullied and the bully together in an unprecedented event; she is made a collateral by her uncle, for the debt accured to Giovanni. Would she be able to cope with the Mafia lord or would her life remain in the same tale; a tale where she is a hopeless victim of bully./1/114138/coverorgin.jpg?v=164013c02dfb792cf8a9a1af73947c2c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne. But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.” My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love. He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter. They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party."/1/114969/coverorgin.jpg?v=8ed481caab371cd2a797903e4b36cde1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Ravaged Crown - A Mafia Romance
What would you do if you walked in on your husband cheating? I'll tell you what I did: Ran out the door with nothing but the clothes on my back. A month later, I'm broke, jobless, almost homeless. But then, while filling in as a waitress at a fancy restaurant, I trip and land in the lap of a gorgeous stranger. One thing leads to another and we end up hooking up. Afterwards, he leaves. That's the end of that... right? WRONG. Because the next day, my temp agency sets me up for a job t hat seems too good to be true. But when I arrive for the interview, my jaw drops. It's the stranger. Turns out he's rich. Like, very rich. And powerful. Like, very powerful. And here's his offer: "Live in my house.Be my wife.Have my baby." Needless to say, I start to freak out. I stand up and stammer, "Um, I'll have to get back to you..." And he replies: "You're misunderstanding.It wasn't a question. You're not going anywhere."/1/122063/coverorgin.jpg?v=c4d8c519106efac8110830551d352e34&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Ashes Of Betrayal: My Ex-Husband's Regret
I was married to Dante Rossi, the ruthless Don of the New York Mafia. For four years, I believed his terrifying power would protect me, especially after his ex-lover pushed me down the stairs, causing our daughter Serafina to be born dead. But during our annual mourning trip to Iceland, his encrypted phone lit up with a text from the woman who murdered our baby. "Angelo is making his birthday wish. He wants his Papa to come home to us." Inside his pocket, his St. Jude locket didn't hold a picture of our dead daughter, but a photo of a four-year-old boy with Dante's eyes. The truth shattered me. Our winter trips to see the aurora weren't to mourn Serafina; they were to celebrate his hidden bastard's birthday. When I tried to flee, Dante intercepted me at the airport with his armed guards. He froze my accounts, relocated my paralyzed mother to a secret facility, and even held my dead daughter's urn hostage to force me back into my gilded cage. I later discovered he had even split Serafina's ashes, burying half in a church wall to build karma for his mistress's son in the violent underworld. How could the man who held me through my nightmares use my dead baby as a superstitious shield for his bastard? Staring at the man who had lied to me for four years, the last shred of my love died. I picked up the phone and called my lawyer. "Signal the FBI strike team. I am tearing down the Syndicate."/1/110205/coverorgin.jpg?v=601e654ea2c5fdd60eeddb011bdb9433&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Underboss's Obsession: Stealing The Bride
Three days before the wedding. I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman. Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress. The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem. It didn't spell Elena. It read Sofia. He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name. Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife. He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance. I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared. "The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?" "Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport." "Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys." I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday. He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead./1/118356/coverorgin.jpg?v=957e3ebde9cc7e105e65945e40617560&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Jilted Mistress? I Am The Mafia Queen
I handed the man I loved a positive pregnancy test, expecting the silver engagement ring I had spent years saving up for. Instead, Ryan shoved a marriage certificate inscribed with another woman's name in my face. He told me he needed her mafia family's backing to become a Capo, and our unborn child was a liability. Before I could even process the betrayal, his hand clamped around my throat. He slammed me against the fridge and forced a pill down my throat. As I collapsed in a pool of my own blood, screaming in agony, he pulled out his phone. He calmly recorded my battered, bleeding body to prove his loyalty to his new wife, Victoria. Later that night, they dragged me into an exclusive underworld club. Victoria and her clique poured scalding coffee on me, kicked my ribs, and played the audio of what he did to me for everyone to laugh at. Ryan watched me bleed with eyes entirely devoid of remorse. I lay on the cold marble floor, completely broken. The boy who had protected me from the streets since we were kids had become a monster, trading my life and our child for a taste of real power. Just as they raised their phones to broadcast my final humiliation to the underworld, the heavy double doors swung open. Don Victor Vance, the city's most terrifying syndicate boss, parted the sea of abusers. He fell to his knees, weeping as he pulled my bleeding body into his arms. I managed a weak smile. "Dad, you came."/1/115996/coverorgin.jpg?v=45855f31d5a5f797a218b5c795009451&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Bestie's Dad Popped My Cherry
"You've been in denial for so long, Addison." His voice was husky and heavy with lust. "Do you really want me to stop?" I could not bring myself to say no. My best friend's stepdad was like the devil, making me find so much pleasure in sin. "You can't even say no," he chuckled, letting go of my hand finally. They moved to my face and he stared into my eyes, while his other hand still worked wonders between my legs. "Don't make me do this," I finally said, moaning the words out. "Please." "Tell me to stop one more time and I will," he mumbled. "Please, st-" I didn't complete my words because he captured my lips with his. *+*+*+*+*+*+* Addison Rodriguez never expected to feel any sexual tension or fall in love with her best friend's stepdad. As she surrenders to the sexual tension, her loyalty to her best friend wavers, especially when she finds out that he is secretly a Mafia Lord trying to hide in plain sight and that her best friend's life is in danger, her loyalty is tested even further. Would she reveal his secret to protect her best friend, or keep it to protect her love?/1/112629/coverorgin.jpg?v=a19aa95cd9de58e3f143db2df60707ca&imageMogr2/format/webp)
