Mafia Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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No Second Chances for Love
My life felt like a fairytale. I, Maya Rodriguez, was deeply in love with Ethan Cole, and my father, Ricardo, was a beloved philanthropist, hosting tonight's grand gala. This night felt special, like the start of everything good. But then, the ballroom doors burst open. Men in dark uniforms stormed in, DEA. And leading them was Ethan. My Ethan. His face, once full of warmth, was cold, hard. He arrested my father, revealing him as "El Martillo," a narcotics trafficker, and worse, the murderer of Officer Sarah Miller – my own mother. My world tilted, shattered in an instant. My perfect life was a lie. My father, a community pillar, was a criminal. My mother, murdered by him. And Ethan, the man I loved, was the architect of this destruction, a cold, calculating agent who had used me. His "I love yous" were just part of his "task." In the hospital, the bullet wound in my shoulder ached, but nothing compared to the news: Agent Cole had a fiancée. I was a means to an end, a tool. Not a person. Was any of it real? Our dates, our nights, his whispers? Did he feel anything, or was I just a job he had to do? The realization was a bitter pill. Hope turned to ash. But as I replayed the horrifying scene, a tiny memory surfaced: my father, a faint scratch on his cheek the night my mother supposedly died in a car crash. A cold suspicion snaked through me. This wasn't just about betrayal. This was about truth. I fumbled with my mother's St. Michael pendant. Inside, tiny engravings: "7710. S.M. My real name." Sarah Miller. My mother. A cop. Killed in the line of duty. By my father. The naive girl was gone. Now, only a burning resolve remained. I would find out everything. And when I did, they would all pay./1/116913/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260522171330&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Stomachless Princess
I was born with a lethal allergy to our Mafia family's signature golden narcotic. My body treats the drug like battery acid, but my mother, the ruthless Boss of the Chicago Outfit, called my allergy a pathetic weakness. She secretly laced my soup with the poison, convinced she could force my immunity and mold me into a perfect heir. When my throat seized and I coughed up blood onto the dining table, my cowardly father just scolded me for disrespecting the Boss. My mother locked me inside a reinforced bathroom, leaving me to suffocate as my airways rapidly swelled shut. "The weak must suffer to become strong." She stood outside the door, casually chatting with a rival Capo about how my torture was necessary, completely ignoring my desperate pleas for a medic. Lying on the cold tiles, gasping for my last breath, I realized a horrifying truth. As long as I held value as her pawn, as long as my body belonged to the Family, she would keep poisoning me until it finally killed me. So, when I woke up in the underground clinic, I grabbed her massive stash of the lethal powder and swallowed it all dry. I chose to burn through my own organs and permanently lose my stomach, annihilating my value forever, just so I could sell my broken shell to her deadliest rival./0/80933/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106194540&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Surgeon's Secret, My Husband's Lie
My beloved grandfather's "routine" surgery didn't just end in death; it unveiled a nightmare. Then I found it: "MD <3 VA"—Mark Davidson and Victoria Ainsworth—carved into his liver, a sickening love note from my own husband and the surgeon who had killed him. Mark, the Chief Medical Examiner, covered up her crime, then publicly sided with Victoria's powerful, elite family in court, systematically discrediting and financially ruining me. I lost everything: my home, my reputation, my hope, even enduring a brutal beating from their thugs. The horror escalated when Victoria, in cold blood, murdered my bedridden mother, then gloated, revealing Mark's decades-old betrayal that had also led to my father's death. How could the man I loved for so long be complicit in such monstrous evils, betraying my entire family, leaving me broken, destitute, and utterly alone? But in my deepest despair, a hidden letter from my mother surfaced, revealing a single, impossible name: my long-lost uncle, a highly influential U.S. General. The monumental fight for justice, finally, was on./0/74676/coverorgin.jpg?v=4c8578c429454e39a993f0cbf9240051&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Wet Nights
On the night of her sister's funeral, Shemika accidentally killed her brother-in-law during a drug-fueled BDSM session. She fled but got hit by Bishop, a smooth-talking ex-convict and the manager of the exclusive nightclub, Wet Nights. He carried her to the club's hidden hospital for treatment. To dodge arrest, Shemika beg for a job at the club. After a shocking demonstration of wax play, orgasm denial, and bondage, she signed a blood-ink contract, becoming property of Wet Nights. She was then taken to the 14-story performers' dorm, the Crimson House, which was managed by the predatory house-manager known as Sinner-he fucks every newbiew in the house as part of their onboarding session. On her first night, Shemika was bullied to parade naked through all 14 floors, but the funny bisexual Jax stepped in and helped her. Soon, she teamed up with Synn, the ice-top performer, and Lexi, who was seeking her missing sister. However, some doors in Wet Nights remain locked for a reason... WARNING: THIS BOOK CONTAINS RAW, STEAMY, AND EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. IF YOU'RE NOT 18+, PLEASE ABSTAIN!!!/0/99237/coverorgin.jpg?v=e15ad37bae1e6dab7486b7760bbe4ee4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love's Cruel Contract, His Endless Regret
My husband was going to kill me. Not with a bullet, but with a text message I was never meant to see. It popped up on the family iPad: "Last night was insane. Can't stop thinking about that hotel room. You owe me round two... ASAP." My first thought was our sixteen-year-old son, Marco. But an anonymous online forum quickly pointed out the holes in my theory—the expensive hotel, the transactional tone, and an eggplant emoji, a code for performance enhancers used by men my husband's age. The truth hit me when I found a condom in his laundry—the same brand I’d found in our son’s room months ago. It was never Marco. It was my husband of twenty years, Lorenzo. The betrayal deepened when I overheard him talking to our son. They laughed about my "episodes" and mocked me for being boring. Marco even told his father, "You should just leave her and be with Katia." Katia—his history tutor. Their conspiracy, hatched within the walls of my own home, destroyed the last of my love for them. Now, I've gathered my proof, and his biggest career achievement—the Innovator of the Year award gala—is next week. It's the perfect stage. He thinks I'll be the supportive wife on his arm, but he's wrong. I'm not just leaving him; I'm going to burn his world to the ground in front of everyone./0/64821/coverorgin.jpg?v=d3047b71d3d6d7126dcafd3e59506a53&imageMogr2/format/webp)
YOURS FAITHFULLY
Crossing part with Satan's heir was never my plan. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now, he is under my tail. Betrayed by my supposed fiancé, stuck with the devil himself. If he was the only man on Earth, I would rather die single, but I can't, not when he stalks me, makes me shiver at his touch and make me beg desperately, on my knees. I wasn't ready to accept him in my life, not after the first betrayal from my fiancé but he forced his way into my life, and turned my world upside down./1/116915/coverorgin.jpg?v=4fe8fbdf0ba087444dd486baf135ea46&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When The Mafia Marriage Contract Expires
I married the ruthless mafia Don, Zane Falcone, at seventeen to pay off my father's blood debt. For three years, I played the obedient wife, secretly hoping my childhood love would thaw his cold heart. But on our third anniversary, he left me dining alone, openly flaunting his cartel heiress mistress to the entire underworld. The final blow came when my father was dying in the hospital. I called Zane, begging for a car. "I am in the middle of entertaining our southern allies, Aria. Stop being dramatic." He hung up on me. Through the receiver, I could hear him dancing with his mistress. By the time I rushed to the hospital, my father was already dead. At the funeral, Zane abandoned me in the pouring rain to answer his mistress's phone call. When he finally came home, he didn't offer condolences. Instead, he ordered me to pack his mistress's bags. I handed him the divorce papers, telling him the debt was paid, but he tore them to shreds. "Nobody leaves the Famiglia! You are mine until you are dead!" Looking at his unhinged rage, a switch flipped inside my chest. I didn't understand why I had wasted my youth hoping to change a monster who saw me as nothing but a breathing contract. The next morning, I grabbed my fake passport, snapped my SIM card in half, and disappeared./0/65291/coverorgin.jpg?v=cd9e41df2e9739e28a6fb896e2c97007&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Dante's Second Chance
Annabelle's life has been a nightmare, trapped under her stepfather's abuse and doing whatever it takes to protect her sister. With a weak mother who's too blind to notice the horrors at home, Annabelle knows she has to get out. But her escape plan takes a wild turn when she gets hit by Dante's car and wakes up with no memory of her past. Dante is the ruthless mafia lord of Acadia, who has grown even worse since he lost his fiancée. Now, everyone trembles at the mention of his name. When Dante sees Annabelle, he decides she's his-and he's not letting go. Everyone who dares to hurt her would pay dearly. *********** "I want nothing to do with you," Annabelle says breathlessly. "You are mine and that is final," He declares. ********** As Annabelle tries to escape her demons, she's caught in a dangerous game where Dante's rules are the only ones that matter. Will she find a way to break free, or will she be drawn deeper into Dante's dark world?/1/117541/coverorgin.jpg?v=e7e24a9a26d3a1a4cbedd28343cd47fc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Abused Wife Is A Mafia Heiress
My mother sacrificed her youth, her secret Mafia Princess status, and her entire fortune to help my father rise to the rank of Capo. But in return, he flaunted his pregnant mistress and declared her unborn baby as his only true heir. When the mistress faked an assault and a miscarriage, my father blamed my mother without a second thought. He ordered his enforcers to drag her into a dark room, commanding them to violate her just like his rivals had done to her years ago. To escape the brutal humiliation, my mother jumped out of the second-floor window, her blood pooling on the cold concrete. My father looked down at her shattered body with utter disgust, claiming she was just playing dead to scare him. He didn't know that the mistress had framed her, and he didn't know the lost baby was never his. He also didn't know that my mother was not a helpless orphan, but the missing heir to the most powerful Syndicate in the country. Just as he slapped me across the face and demanded I kneel to his mistress, a fleet of armored SUVs slammed to a halt at the gates. The terrifying Don Rossi stepped out, staring at the blood on the ground and the red mark on my cheek. "We have been searching for our daughter for six years," the Don said, his voice like ice. "And I swear a brutal Vendetta against you."/0/99238/coverorgin.jpg?v=bbcb164cbd650832131cd643ef2c0777&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love's Shadow, A Billionaire's Tears
He broke my heart ninety-nine times, but it was the last one that finally killed my love for him. At his family's party, his new girl theatrically stumbled, pulling us both into the pool. My heavy gown dragged me down, and I gasped for air, reaching for him. But he shoved right past me. He saved her. Through the chlorinated water, I heard his voice, sharp and clear for everyone to hear. "Your life is no longer my problem." The world went silent. My love for him died in that pool. But the final humiliation came a week later, at a high-stakes poker game. He kissed her in front of everyone, a brutal, public execution of my worth. Then he looked straight at me, his voice booming across the silent room. "She's a much better kisser than you ever were." Later that night, I overheard him talking to his second-in-command. "I'll keep her around long enough to make Ellie jealous. Give it a few weeks. She'll come crawling back, begging me to take her back. She always does." My love, my pain, my heartbreak—it was all just a game to him. So I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I went home, opened my laptop, and applied to a university in New York. This wasn't a threat. This was a burial./1/106278/coverorgin.jpg?v=e0e09f38238b46dffc9cfe664c4f6365&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Betrayed Wife: Saved By The Mafia King
I was sitting in the obstetrics clinic, rubbing my four-month bump, when a livestream popped up on my phone. It was my husband, Xander, exchanging vows with my illegitimate half-sister, Rissa. The caption read: "The Commission never ratified your marriage. You're just the incubator." My husband and my father had sworn they were at a critical mafia sit-down. But there they were on the screen, laughing. I called Xander. He answered, thinking he was slick, but he forgot to mute the room. "Two more years of acting like a saint," I heard him sneer to his men. "Fucking her is a chore. But she's worth fifty million in clean assets." My marriage was void. My child was considered a bastard by the Mafia code. When I confronted them later at the gala, Rissa threw herself to the ground, screaming that I attacked her. Xander shoved me. Hard. I hit the table, and as blood trickled down my legs, he didn't even look at me. He scooped Rissa up and stepped over my bleeding body like I was trash. They froze my accounts. They hunted me down to a cheap motel, planning to kill me once I signed over the trust fund. I was cornered by a mob in a dirty clinic, waiting for the final blow. But it never came. A hand caught the metal chair mid-air. Killian Qiro, the most dangerous man in Chicago, stood over me. "Who dares?" he growled, his eyes dark with lethal promise. "Who dares call a Qiro child a bastard?" He picked me up from the dirt. "Xander is a dead man walking," he whispered against my hair. "He just doesn't know it yet."/0/84377/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106204448&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Coyote, My Vendetta
The static-laced call from Matthew was a punch to the gut. He was my partner, my 'boyfriend,' and he was supposedly captured by El Martillo’s cartel. He demanded I bring half a million dollars, alone, to a remote warehouse, promising it was the only way to save him. I threw protocol out the window, raced through the Arizona heat, and walked into that dusty, desolate building, ready to face a cartel for him. But Matthew wasn't tied up or bruised. He was perfectly fine, and he took the money I’d risked my life for, handing it to El Martillo’s enforcer. Then, with a chillingly calm voice, he pointed at me and said, "And here’s a bonus for El Martillo. She’s a top-tier artist. Now let me go." The world tilted. My partner, the man I thought I loved, had sold me out. Before I could process the betrayal, his fist connected with my face, a brutal blow that knocked me to the ground. El Martillo’s men closed in, ready for a "welcome party" that meant my agonizing end. As their boots slammed into me, I saw a familiar tattoo on one of their necks—a coyote. My coyote. A design only one other person should know in such detail. Hope, sharp and desperate, cut through the pain. This wasn't the end. This was the beginning of my real mission./1/118637/coverorgin.jpg?v=81f32824c4d11d52af6c7ee6372c769c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Child She Lost,The Crown She Won
I surrendered my mafia inheritance and let my father exile me just to marry Silas. He was a broken soldier who knelt in the rain, claiming he gave up his territory to save me from a forced marriage. But when I went to surprise him with my pregnancy ultrasound, I overheard him laughing with the reigning Don I was supposed to marry. His downfall was a fake, a ploy so his mistress could seamlessly take my place. When I confronted them, his mistress pushed me onto the wet concrete. I woke up in the underground clinic, agonizing in pain, as Silas handed me a crushed pill. He told me the fall caused catastrophic tearing and the baby wouldn't survive, weeping as he claimed he had to abort it to save my life. But days later, his mistress walked into my room with white lilies. She smiled and told me Silas deliberately sacrificed our child to keep my blood clean for her rare illness transfusions. He murdered our baby just to ensure his mistress had no parasitic competition. Yet, he still held my hand every day, playing the devoted, grieving husband with flawless, sickening perfection. The full scope of his betrayal didn't bring tears, but a ringing in my ears that awakened the dormant code of Vendetta in my blood. I picked up the phone to call my ruthless father. "I will give you absolute supremacy, Papa." This time, I would swallow their territories whole and ascend the throne alone./1/119576/coverorgin.jpg?v=6e71f8bf1840983e178b9f7e5c029e62&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late For Regret: The Don's Queen
My mother was raising her crystal glass to celebrate my long-deferred marriage to Marco when he slammed his hand on the table. He announced to our powerful Mafia families that he had already claimed another woman. That woman was Isabella, a fragile, low-level associate. For years, Marco had used me as a forced chaperone, a convenient shield to hide their illicit affair from the Syndicate elders. He had stolen my meticulous ledger work to cover her mistakes, leaving me to endure brutal reprimands from the Underboss. He had even abandoned me in hostile, rival-controlled territory in the dead of night just to escort her safely home. Now, he was publicly shattering our generation-long alliance. "What man of consequence would seek out a wife with a spirit as unbending and a heart as cold as yours?" he sneered in front of everyone. I stared at the man I had grown up alongside. When we were thirteen, I shattered the bones in my own hand pulling him to safety from rival soldiers. He swore a blood oath under Omertà that day to protect me for life. Yet here he was, treating me like a disposable pawn, discarding our shared history for a pathetic, manipulative girl. But I didn't cry, and I didn't beg him to stay. As he turned his back on me to answer a frantic call from his fragile lover, I simply pulled out my phone. I texted Don Alessandro Moretti, the most feared boss in the city, and allied myself with him instead./1/100960/coverorgin.jpg?v=71debb59d3398aeb5194c03b9d5e8740&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late For The Mafia King's Regret
On our seventh anniversary, the Capo dei Capi lit up the New York skyline with drones spelling my name, swearing on his life that I was his only Queen. Moments later, he abandoned me on the dock to rush to his mistress—my own sister, Sophia. Sophia sent me a photo of him kissing her belly with the caption: "He finally has a real woman. It's a boy." Lucien wanted an heir above all else. I was just the placeholder; she was the vessel. I didn't scream. I didn't confront him. I simply initiated Ghost Protocol. I left the wedding ring, signed the divorce papers, and erased Eleonora Marino from existence. By the time Lucien found the DNA test proving Sophia’s baby wasn't his—that he had betrayed his loyal wife for a lie—I was already gone. He executed my sister in a rage and spent his fortune burning down the world to find me. Six months later, he bought the high-security Swiss lab where I was hiding, forcing his way back into my life. He stood before me, gaunt and desperate. "I killed her, Nora. She paid for what she did to us. Come home." I looked at the man I had once worshipped. "Infidelity is a choice, Lucien. But murder? That is who you are." "We are enemies now."/1/104089/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106223557&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Bound By Contract To The Ruthless Don
I threw a latte on the most dangerous man in New York and lived to tell about it. Dante Vitiello. The Capo dei Capi. A man rumored to cut out tongues for interrupting his dinner. Instead of a bullet to the brain, he handed me a black card and a terrifying ultimatum. "I need a fiancée," he told me, his eyes dead cold. To save my failing journalism career and my life, I signed a contract with the devil. I had to wear his massive diamond ring, smile for the cameras, and pretend to be the love of his life to stop a political mafia marriage. The rules were clear: Absolute obedience. Total exclusivity. And absolutely no feelings. But the performance started to feel dangerous. When a rival Don insulted me at a gala, Dante didn't just play the part—he threatened to butcher him in front of three hundred people. When I saw the jagged scars on his chest in the dead of night, I didn't see a monster; I saw a lonely protector. My investigation was supposed to expose him, but I was the one getting stripped bare. Then his cousin Rocco stormed in, calling me a disposable whore and a temporary pawn. I stood my ground, defending not just myself, but Dante too. Dante looked at me then, not as an asset, but as a woman he wanted to devour. He stepped closer, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my bones. "I think we are going to have a problem with the clause about 'no feelings'."/1/104715/coverorgin.jpg?v=245d513837752ba97a49bfe80c3b33ad&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Honor to Serve the Mafia Princess
GIANNA RAINE The card with the 'Constantine De Graaf' written on it. That's the only clue that I got about the identity of the man that impregnated me. I'm not really interested in getting to know him...all I want is to inform him that I am pregnant. That's all. Then, I can move abroad and live a life with my baby as a single mom. But why am I staring at a familiar face? He had left as Elliott the bodyguard. All of a sudden, he's Constantine De Graaf?! CONSTANTINE I'm on cloud nine when Miss Gianna shows up in my office. But it all disappears when she reveals her purpose. WHO THE HELL DARE GETS HER PREGNANT?!!! WHEN I...NO! NO WAY! I'll do everything in my power to help her. For the meantime, I'll take care of her. Give everything she and the baby wants. I promised Miss Gianna that I'll help her find the father of the baby...but I didn't say alive./1/118638/coverorgin.jpg?v=d4dffa002f7b88e4e9598bc721c8fb66&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Fake Lunatic: I Played Crazy To Bury My Brother
For three years, I was locked inside a mafia black site, enduring daily electroshock therapy and forced chemical cocktails. I truly believed I was losing my mind, until my fingers brushed against a hidden wiretap taped beneath the treatment table. The recorded voices belonged to my husband and my biological brother. "Turn her into a mindless vegetable before Friday, so I can legally seize her proxy votes." It turned out I was never sick. My late father, the legendary Don, had left me a controlling stake in the syndicate, locked in an offshore trust that would thaw in exactly seven days. To steal my inheritance, the two men I trusted most conspired to fry my brain into a wet pulp. My husband even let his secret mistress parade through the asylum, mocking my emaciated, scar-covered body. They dragged me back to the family estate, starving me in a damp storage room and threatening to bring the shock machines to my bedroom if I didn't sign over the territories. Every time I had fought back over the years, they used my agony as irrefutable proof of my insanity, strapping me down tighter and turning the dial higher. They didn't want to cure me; they wanted to completely erase me. But my father had foreseen their bottomless greed and built an untouchable legal fortress for me. Looking at the jagged date branded into my wrist, I knew exactly what I had to do. I dropped to my knees, slapped my own face hard, and played the perfect, broken lunatic. I just had to survive the next seven days, and then I would take back my throne and bury them all./0/99240/coverorgin.jpg?v=3608470e21b86e47b0c659585c06fb4f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The CEO's Billion-Dollar Divorce Regret
My husband, a mafia underboss and a brilliant neurosurgeon, left me to die on the side of a highway in the pouring rain. He had to rush to another woman, his true love, who'd had a minor car accident. As I lay bleeding on a gurney after being hit by a truck, I learned I was eight weeks pregnant. But my hope was short-lived. The hospital was out of my blood type, and the only reserve had been set aside by my husband for his lover, just in case she had "post-op complications" from her cosmetic procedure. Over the phone, I heard the nurse beg him. "This woman, and your... this baby will die!" His reply was ice. "Isabella is my priority." He let our child die to save her from a minor risk. The ledger where I'd been keeping score of his sins finally hit zero. I was free. Two years later, I've built a new life, a new career, and found a new love with a man who cherishes me. I'm no longer the broken wife, but a celebrated architect, nominated for a prestigious award. And tonight, at the awards ceremony, he found me. He got on his knees in the middle of the ballroom, begging for a second chance./1/119108/coverorgin.jpg?v=9cb423c322bb481a2e87a96c51a82115&imageMogr2/format/webp)
