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Mafia Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Shattered Hand, Broken Heart, Burning Soul

Shattered Hand, Broken Heart, Burning Soul

The first blow cracked a rib, the second dissolved the world into pain. They dragged me into an alley, brutalizing me, shattering my drawing hand, and carving out my kidney. Just before I blacked out, I saw them: Eleanor, my adoptive mother; Olivia, my sister; Sarah, my fiancée. Standing at the alley's edge, watching with cold, tense eyes as I lay bleeding. Then, Eleanor' s chillingly calm voice cut through the haze: "Is it done?" A man confirmed my hand was shattered, and pointed to a cooler. My kidney. They had taken my kidney. Later, in the sterile hospital room, I overheard them. Eleanor confirmed my art career was destroyed. Olivia expressed relief. Sarah, my fiancée, twisted the knife: "This is for the best. Caleb couldn't handle the rejection." My heart pounded with sick realization. For seven years, my achievements had been sacrificed for Caleb's "fragility." I was a fool, believing their love, their sisterhood, their devotion. I was an obstacle, a resource to be drained and discarded. The party celebrating Caleb's scholarship, built on my ruin, raged downstairs-on my birthday, which they' d forgotten. I was bleeding, injured by a dog they claimed I' d attacked, forced to apologize by Eleanor, who shoved my head, sending me crashing. But as I lay broken, a new fire ignited within me. I clutched a faded photograph: my real father. And on it, a phone number for my grandfather. "I've been waiting for your call, son. Tell me where you are. I'm on my way."
Don't Make Me Chase You

Don't Make Me Chase You

A while ago, Juniel couldn't get enough of the gaze of a man sitting on the High Chairs near the Bar. Ever since he was hit by the man's gaze, he hasn't looked away even once. Meanwhile, he spent time with the man in front of him that he was talking to earlier. but no matter what the man said, it didn't seem to enter his ears. She was distracted, she admitted. No matter how he pretends, Tyron still has the same effect on him. Yes Tyron was the guy who was staring at her. when she and Tyron first met she couldn't sleep that night. Surely Tyron doesn't remember her. But what other reason why Tyron should remember him? He shook his head. Tyron should never know or remember him. he often sees Tyron because he is a stylist for the models of Tyron's company. It's like that's where the young man's feelings grew. When she tried to see where Tyron was, she felt dismay when she couldn't find the young man. maybe she feels strange when he stares at her but it's Tyron after all. He still prefers to see the young man up close He was very surprised to see Tyron on the dance floor still staring at him. She knew it! Tyron will approach him again! He quickly said goodbye to his companion and hurried away. But Tyrone's chasing her. He didn't want to talk to or get close to the young man. But Tyron quickly grabbed her by the arm. He was staring at her intently. it followed Tyron as he pulled him out of the bar and into the parking lot. "What!?" The young man yelled at him. Tyron's gaze stayed on Juniel. He felt as if some cold was rising in his system and his legs were shaking "You really don't want?" Tyron frowned. Juniel gasped. One night at Tyron's company party, the young man unexpectedly spoke to him. The conversation goes well at first until Tyron offers to have sex with her. That night Juniel couldn't sleep well. his whole body argued with Tyron's words. Well a part of her wants Tyron. Who is he to say no to someone like Tyron. But... Juniel has a pure feelings towards Tyron. she doesn't want to be like Tyron's girls that when they finish doing 'that' Tyron will just throw her away like one of his girls "I don't want to. That will never happen." The young man stepped closer to him. His heart felt like it was about to break out of his heart because it was beating so fast. "Are you sure? Why don't you?" "I'm not like your girls Tyron. So don't tease me anymore. My answer will never change. I don't want to!" Tyron smiled and put his finger to his lips. Gosh! he can no longer deny that the simple trail of your fingers on his lips attracted him. Especially with his baritone voice. Damn him! "Don't make me chase you Juniel. We both know that in this battle. I'm the winner. I will win. I will always win. I get what I want. Juniel will be yours."
Sold To The Mafia Don

Sold To The Mafia Don

"My gift has finally arrived, a perfect specimen, perfect for an heir." *** If only I had known that I wouldn't ever return to my house. Never see my mother, my siblings, or Violet... I never would have gotten in that car. My father remarked, "She's all yours," "Dad? Dad? Dad?! " I yelled. I squirmed as tears began to stream, attempting to break free. *** Years have passed... "My gift has finally arrived," said a voice I recognized. That voice was the catalyst for my downfall. "Well, now that we're acquainted, I think we can go see my son." You know, I purchased you for him. "A perfect specimen, perfect for an heir," he murmured, a nasty smirk on his face. *** "Son!" Antonio applauded. "What do you want, father?" I felt a little chill at the sound of the fresh voice. The Italian accent in the words, together with how deep, velvety, and dominating it was, shook me to my very core. I was a little pleased that he spoke so harshly about his father. He had midnight-black hair that fell in a part of his onyx eyes, which was lengthy in the center but short on the sides. Deeply tanned complexion, full pink lips, and a jawline with a five o'clock shadow. He was dressed in a black suit with a white shirt beneath that had the first three buttons undone, revealing some tattoos. His hands were encrusted with silver rings, some of which had black jewels. Both hands and backs of both had tattoos. I was intrigued by the creative swirls since I was ignorant of the whole tattoo. Not if he made the decision to remove his shirt. *** Lucy was sold to Antonio Martinelli, the former boss of the biggest Italian mafia when she was 14 years old. After spending years in the "safe house," Lucy is delivered to his son Luca Martinelli, the new leader, as a birthday gift. Luca fights the urge to fall in love with the ebony beauty as Lucy attempts to keep a promise she made and regain her former self. Will they endure all the deceit, lust, murder, and betrayal committed in the name of love together?
Possession and Obsession

Possession and Obsession

"Pick up the gun, Valentina." Her fingers trembled, blood splattered across her silk dress. The metallic scent of death curled in her nose. She shook her head violently. "I won't- please don't make me do this again" Dominic's grip was brutal as he shoved the gun into her palm. "You don't get to say no. Pull the damn trigger." The man kneeling before her sobbed, pleading for mercy. But in this world, mercy is weakness. "If you don't kill him, I will. And then you'll watch as I paint these walls with your family's blood next." Her breath hitched. She pulled the trigger. Valentina Moretti was born into power but raised in ignorance. Kept clean, untouched, and ready by a father whose only use of her was to trade her. Now, she's been gifted to Dominic Caruso, the cold, merciless heir of the most feared Mafia family in the country. A man who bathes in blood, thrives in destruction, and holds no regard for the fragile woman forced into his bed. She was supposed to be a treaty, a way to end a war before it began. But in Dominic's world, peace is just a pretty word whispered by cowards. "You are mine, Valentina. Your body. Your mind. Your soul." "I will never be yours." His smirk was a blade across her throat. "Oh, sweetheart... you already are." She thought she could escape. She thought she could survive him. She was wrong. This is not a love story. This is survival. And Valentina's only options are to kneel... or bleed.
He Erased Me, I Erased Him First

He Erased Me, I Erased Him First

On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news. He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city. The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.” For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets. My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me. So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts. He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked. He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree. He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies.