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Mafia Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Too Late For Regret: The Mafia Princess

Too Late For Regret: The Mafia Princess

Three years ago, my biological brother, the ruthless Don of New York, dragged me back to his compound. But he didn't bring me home to be the Mafia Princess; he brought me back to be a lowly maid for his manipulative adopted sister, Serafina. On the anniversary of our parents' death, I only wanted to place a single white rose on their grave. Cassio ordered his heavily armed soldiers to barricade the mausoleum, looking at me with profound irritation. "If you do not drop to your knees and beg Serafina for permission, I will permanently erase your existence from this bloodline," he threatened. To appease Serafina's fake tears, Cassio had locked me in a windowless basement, banned me from family banquets, and forced me to bow to her in front of his Capos. When I finally refused to submit, he froze my bank accounts, threw me out of his armored SUV onto the highway, and decreed that no one in the city could hire me, trying to starve me into crawling back. I couldn't understand why he bothered to extract me from my civilian life just to let a fake bloodline torture his real sister. Standing in the dirt, my heart went completely dead, and any remaining hope for this family shattered. I stripped off the heavy diamond necklace he gave me and threw it onto the gravel like industrial waste. Then, I pulled out my hidden burner phone and texted my other brother, Leo, the deadliest rising boss in the underworld. "Come pick me up," I sent. "I am abandoning this cursed surname forever."
Too Late, I Married The Mafia King

Too Late, I Married The Mafia King

For six years, I endured my fiancé Silas's calculated cruelty, believing it was the only way to pay for my dying father's black-market lung medication. Then, I overheard him talking to his secret lover—his late brother's widow. "Once the old man suffocates, I'll put Aria in a fortified apartment as my personal whore, and you will wear the Capo's ring." At the syndicate's annual Feast, Silas put his ruthless plan into motion. He publicly humiliated me, tearing my dress open from collarbone to shoulder in front of hundreds of leering mobsters. He deliberately scattered my father's bloody medical money across the dirt and forced me to draw the White Carnation, making me the ultimate laughingstock of the Family. My frail father coughed up blood trying to protect me, while Silas and his lover sneered at my absolute ruin. For six years, I swallowed my pride, thinking I was making a noble sacrifice to keep my father breathing. I never realized I was just a disposable pawn in his sick game, kept on a leash only until my father was in the ground. But Silas didn't know that the night before, I had taken the last of my money to buy a silver Vendetta Rosary. I had ventured into the shadows and pledged myself to Dante, the terrifying, newly ascended Don of the entire syndicate. As I sobbed on the cold wooden floor, the courtyard fell dead silent, and a pair of large, scarred hands reached into my vision holding a flawless Crimson Rose. And in the heavy silence that followed, I understood: either salvation or damnation had come for me, and I was no longer the one choosing.
Discarded Wife: The Shadow Strategist Returns

Discarded Wife: The Shadow Strategist Returns

I stood in the center of the ballroom, watching my husband accept credit for the massacre I had meticulously planned. To the underworld, Craig Snyder was the King, a strategic genius who had crippled the Russian mafia. To me, he was the man who had just re-gifted my anniversary present—a Patek Philippe watch—to match the diamond bracelet dangling from his mistress’s wrist. The Senator’s daughter, Chanel, laughed at a joke only he could hear, wearing a red dress and a look of naive adoration that used to be mine. When I confronted him, expecting an apology, Craig didn't just dismiss me. He slapped me across the face in front of the city's elite, the sound echoing like a gunshot. He yanked the wedding ring off my finger, drawing blood, and placed it into Chanel’s palm, calling me a hysterical, barren relic. Later, I found the forged documents. He had signed my name to transfer every asset we built together into his sole possession, leaving me with nothing but a hush-money check. He thought I was just a scorned wife. He forgot that I was the architect of his empire. So, I drove my car off a bridge. I let the world believe I was dead. I let him mourn the woman he destroyed while I watched from the shadows, erasing his existence from my accounts. Six months later, at the Global Crime Summit, Craig stood up with a diamond ring, ready to beg my memory for forgiveness. But the doors opened, and I didn't walk in alone. I walked onto the stage holding the hand of his deadliest rival, Felix Tyson. I wasn't there to take him back. I was there to take his kingdom.
Too Late: The Don Begs Forgiveness

Too Late: The Don Begs Forgiveness

I placed the divorce papers on the mahogany desk, ending five years of being the perfect, silent wife to the most ruthless Don in Chicago. He didn't sign them. Instead, Kaden Barnes looked at me with cold, reptilian eyes and named his price for my freedom. "Thirty lashes," he said. "The discipline of a traitor." I accepted. I let his enforcer shred my back until I was dragging myself across the gravel driveway in a pool of my own crimson. But as I crawled toward the exit, I heard him laughing with his mistress, Brittaney. "Harlow isn't my wife," he sneered. "The certificate is a forgery. She owns nothing." My loyalty had been a lie. And when Brittaney faked an injury to frame me, Kaden didn't check on my bleeding wounds. He tied my wrists and ankles to the tow hitch of his SUV. He drove forward until my hip popped and my shoulder dislocated, leaving me broken in the dirt while his mistress smiled. He thought he had destroyed me. He didn't know his mother would smuggle me onto a private jet to London that very night. Three years later, the Barnes empire collapsed. Kaden was rotting in a Supermax prison, betrayed by the very mistress he had tortured me to protect. Now, a letter sits on my desk in Kensington. The monster is dying of cancer, and he has left me his entire fortune. I packed my bag for one last trip. It was time to see if the King had finally learned that he threw away a diamond to chase after cheap glass.
He Broke Me, Another Man Fixed Me

He Broke Me, Another Man Fixed Me

My husband, the ruthless Don of the Parks family, made his choice. When his mistress burst in screaming that her son was sick, Jackson didn't hesitate. He left me—his wife who had just been poisoned—pinned against the wall to die, rushing to comfort a child who wasn't even his blood. That night, "Elena Parks" died in a fiery car crash. I spent years rebuilding myself in France, hidden by Hamilton Nixon, a man who loved me in the shadows. I finally found peace. I finally felt free. But Jackson found out the truth. He discovered the boy was another man's son and that his mistress had been drugging him. Instead of letting me go, his grief turned into a terrifying obsession. He hunted me down, kidnapped me, and dragged me back to the estate that had been my prison. I woke up tied to our marriage bed with silk ribbons. "I'm building a garden," he whispered maniacally, stroking my hair as I struggled against the bonds. "Just like you wanted. We're going to be happy." He thought kidnapping was a grand romantic gesture. He thought he could erase the abuse with a fresh coat of paint and forced proximity. But he underestimated me. And he underestimated Hamilton. After a violent rescue, I rose from the ashes not as his wife, but as a titan of industry. Six months later, Jackson stormed the stage at my global summit. He knelt before me on live television, holding a ten-carat pink diamond, thinking he could buy my forgiveness. "I'm ready to take you back," he announced to the world. I looked at the man who had destroyed me, then at Hamilton, the man who had saved me. I grabbed Hamilton's lapels and kissed him in front of millions. "There is no 'us', Jackson," I told him into the microphone, watching his world shatter. "You are just haunting a graveyard."
The Caged Canary's Spectacular Comeback

The Caged Canary's Spectacular Comeback

For seven years, I was known as the "Caged Canary"—the orphan ward of the ruthless Don, Autry Villarreal. I wore his silver star necklace like a dog tag, mistaking his cold control for protection. Then came the breaking news alert that shattered my world: Autry was marrying Cassie Turner to end a decade-long turf war. He didn't just break my heart; he let her destroy my home. When Cassie ordered a bulldozer to rip up the rose garden my deceased father had planted, Autry stood on the patio and watched. He chose political strategy over my only living memory of my parents. "It is necessary," he told me, handing me a briefcase full of cash to disappear. "This saves lives." I realized then that he wasn't my protector; he was my jailer. I left the money, discarded his necklace, and vanished into the night. Five years later, I returned to New York not as his ward, but as J.B., a Pulitzer Prize-winning photographer with a diamond ring on my finger from a man who actually cherished me. Autry didn't handle my freedom well. He cornered me in a car, staging a paparazzi photo to look like a passionate embrace, desperate to ruin my engagement. "I destroyed Cassie for you," he claimed, revealing he had leaked his own ex-fiancée's crimes to clear my name. "I cleaned the slate. I can give you the world now." He expected gratitude. He expected me to fall back into his arms. I looked him dead in the eye and posted a selfie with my fiancé instead. "I don't want your world, Autry. I'm done living in the dark."
Sierra Morgan: The Don's Bride

Sierra Morgan: The Don's Bride

In the dark underbelly of Philadelphia, two opposing crime families-the Morgans and the Rinaldis-have maintained a tenuous peace. However, when a merciless Japanese gang executes the killings of their leaders to instigate turmoil, the equilibrium of power breaks, sending the city into a lethal battle of trickery, treachery, and vengeance. Sierra Morgan, the unacknowledged and overlooked daughter of the Morgan clan, is plunged into a perilous task: wed Dominic Rinaldi, the icy and strategic new Don of Il Condottiero, and deceive him for the sake of her vengeful half-siblings. It's a task she cannot decline, but as Sierra enters the foe's lair, she realizes that Dominic is not the cold-hearted villain she thought he was. Underneath his harsh facade exists a man marked by grief, allegiance, and hidden truths. As their arranged marriage develops into an unforeseen situation, Sierra feels conflicted between her allegiance to her family and the increasing emotions she harbors for the man she was meant to ruin. But betrayal runs deep on both sides, and when shocking truths emerge-including a secret child, forbidden affairs, and an insidious mole within the Rinaldi clan-Sierra realizes the true enemy may not be who she thought. With bloodshed escalating and time running out, Sierra must make an impossible choice: protect the man she loves or betray him to save herself. Can love survive in a world where loyalty is bought with blood, and betrayal is just another business transaction? A story of forbidden love, power struggles, and shocking twists, this gripping tale will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very last page.
New Orleans' Burning Heart

New Orleans' Burning Heart

New Orleans was a powder keg, teetering on the brink of explosion. I, Isabelle "Izzy" Beaumont, the Mayor's daughter, believed I could save it. I offered myself in a desperate union to Jackson "Jax" Moreau, the charismatic gang leader I once loved, hoping to bridge the chasm between our warring worlds. But Jax's "union" was a brutal charade. He betrayed me, wiping out my family – my father mauled by his dogs, my brother crushed, my mother shamed to death. I became his prisoner, forced to watch as New Orleans burned and my world crumbled. Confined to a crumbling outbuilding, I endured constant torment. He even ordered the abortion of our unborn child. My former best friend, Clara, became his new queen, wearing my dead mother's necklace, reveling in my humiliation. All the while, a silent curse, a "living decay," gnawed at me, slowly consuming my life. Why this relentless hatred? Why did he ignore my silent suffering, my hidden sacrifice, claiming I was only paying for "my family's sins"? Didn't he remember when I' d dared to enter the dark bayou for him? It took me coughing up blood and collapsing, my body finally failing, for an ancient healer to appear. She revealed the impossible truth: the insidious curse eating me alive was the secret price I paid years ago, to save his life from a deadly cottonmouth bite. With my last breaths, can this shattering realization break the monster he's become, or is it simply too late for redemption in the ashes of our destroyed love?