Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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He Called Off Our Forever
Tonight, my boyfriend of seven years, Benjamin Kane, was supposed to propose. Our future was a perfect picture, planned down to the last detail. But a single phone call shattered it all. A mysterious voice convinced him I was a gold digger who would ruin him, and that another woman, Jenna Christian, was his true soulmate. He called off our engagement on the spot. That was only the beginning of my nightmare. I was stalked by a man obsessed with Jenna, a confrontation that ended with me falling from a rooftop and shattering my arm. Then, I was kidnapped by a shady agency, trapped by a contract Jenna had signed in my name. I was living the horrific fate that was meant for her. Benjamin, the man who promised me forever, abandoned me to suffer while defending the very woman who orchestrated my torment. Lying in a hospital bed, I received an acceptance letter for a design scholarship in Paris. It was my only escape. I took it, leaving behind the man who broke me and the life he destroyed./1/101593/coverorgin.jpg?v=546c366783e29e6b6b4be45f4fa9d814&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Pink Car of Betrayal
My husband unveiled a custom pink car on live TV, calling it a "tribute to our love." The internet hailed him as the perfect man. But I knew the truth. That car was the exact place he cheated on me with his VP, Keri. And the lipstick stain on the passenger seat wasn't mine. He thought I was at home, waiting to celebrate his success. Instead, I was at a clinic, signing a waiver to surgically remove my memories. I aborted the child he desperately wanted. I smashed the jade locket he claimed bound our souls together. I burned my passport, my license, and every photo of us in the kitchen sink. When he finally came home, he found nothing but an empty house and a gift box containing the remains of our unborn child. A year later, he crashed my engagement party in Charleston, falling to his knees and begging for forgiveness. I looked down at the weeping billionaire and felt absolutely nothing. "I'm sorry, sir," I said calmly. "But do I know you?"/0/81153/coverorgin.jpg?v=3e376c98a8c8f271a8e3a88d6f093fe8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Beyond the Stuntman
Jack Riley, a top Hollywood stunt coordinator and a discreet civilian specialist for the Department of Defense, was heading to a classified flight. After six critical months away on a secret vehicle testing project, he' d left his multi-million dollar company, Riley's Precision Stunts, and his personal finances in the seemingly capable hands of his longtime fiancée, Brenda. He thought he could trust her with everything. However, his composure shattered on the freeway when a bright orange McLaren recklessly swerved, brake-checked him, and caused a violent collision. The driver, Kyle "King Kyle" Peterson, a preening social media pest, immediately started boasting about his "sugar mama" buying his six-figure supercar. The cold truth hit Jack: it was the exact McLaren Brenda had cooed about wanting for an anniversary gift – a gift he' d wisely refused. Then came the deeper blow: Kyle called Brenda, and her sickeningly sweet voice confirmed she was his "baby," mocking Jack and his truck, declaring it "worthless." She then shockingly attempted to have him "fired" from his own company, even bringing her imposing "assistants" to underscore her authority. Outsiders watched, openly judging Jack, thinking he was just some old, pathetic man. The sheer audacity of her betrayal churned in Jack' s gut. How could the woman he' d loved, the woman he' d empowered and trusted with his entire life' s work and fortune, not only be cheating but actively plundering his company and brazenly siding with a narcissistic opportunist against him, all while he' d been serving his country? The injustice was a suffocating weight. But Jack Riley was no ordinary man. A master of strategic thinking and quiet resilience, he decided then and there, amidst the chaos. He would play their twisted game, allowing them to dig their own graves. He' d meticulously expose every layer of deceit, beginning his calculated, devastating counter-attack that would reclaim everything they thought they' d stolen from him./0/58442/coverorgin.jpg?v=d9207ad051fd092c6e40495eb2cd3f75&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reclaiming Her Love
Out of pity, I rescued Jaycob who was abandoned by his family from the hands of the villain. He swore to always treat me well. But after he was recognized by his family, I overheard him talking to his friends: "Jennifer? Just a loveless old woman, approaching me with a purpose. If she hadn't actually saved me, she wouldn't even have the right to stay by my side." I realized that this is how he sees me. I stayed away from him as he wished. But Jaycob regretted it, with red eyes he begged softly, "Jenny, you said you wouldn't reject me."/0/80829/coverorgin.jpg?v=63455f7ae21e774819f832e802421ff4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Wife He Erased
My wife, Sarah, had conveniently "disappeared" three years ago, leaving me, Ethan Cole, the music mogul, free to thrive with my new star, Tiffany Vance—who just happened to be my high school tormentor and current lover. Life was perfect, until Tiffany needed a "raw" memoir and suggested Sarah write it. I returned to Sarah’s godforsaken hometown, expecting to drag my "dramatic" ex-wife back, only to be told by her brother, David, and an old woman, Maria, that Sarah had been dead for three years. I laughed in their faces, accusing them of lying, shoving David, and nearly strangling Maria. I refused to believe it until I ordered my men to dig up her grave. Seeing Sarah’s bones in that cheap coffin felt like a punch to the gut. Then, the world truly tilted when I learned Maria, the woman I’d just assaulted, was my own long-lost mother, whom I believed dead. Tiffany tried to soothe me with a fabricated story of saving me from drowning, holding up a tarnished locket as proof. But the inscription on that locket, a tiny "S.J." and a unique dent, screamed a different truth. It was Sarah’s. She was my savior, not Tiffany. Tiffany had stolen her heroism, just as she'd stolen my life, and used me as a weapon against Sarah and my family. The realization was a cold, terrifying clarity, revealing the monstrous fool I'd been. My world, built on lies and cruelty, shattered. The man who had unknowingly destroyed my life would now be the instrument of ultimate vengeance, vowing to uncover every one of Tiffany’s twisted schemes, every lie, and make everyone involved pay./0/84398/coverorgin.jpg?v=e9ff4a11131b4c3c1659b1a2c71d11e2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Justice For Lily
I sacrificed my promising career as an architect, becoming a devoted stay-at-home dad so my brilliant, charismatic wife, Nicole, could chase her political dreams. Our daughter, Lily, was my world, the only pure thing left in our gilded life. Then I discovered Nicole was cheating with her ambitious campaign intern. I tried to handle it quietly, discreetly reassigning the intern to a remote, terrible posting. But Nicole' s reaction was ice: she retaliated by locking our beloved six-year-old Lily on our yacht, right as a massive storm rolled in, blackmailing me for the intern' s location. Despite my desperate pleas, she abandoned our daughter to find her lover. I raced to the marina, but it was too late. Lily's faint "Daddy!" scream was swallowed by the violent waves as the yacht capsized, taking my daughter with it. Three days later, they found her tiny body. Yet, Nicole scoffed, rolled her eyes, and accused me of fabricating Lily's death to ruin her campaign. When I brought Lily's cremation urn home, Nicole, with her lover by her side, laughed and slapped it to the floor, scattering my daughter's ashes. That moment something inside me snapped. How could the woman I loved, the mother of my child, be so devoid of humanity? How could she deny our daughter's death and shatter her remains? The gentle man I was died on that polished floor. But from the ashes of my despair rose a chilling resolve. Nicole had destroyed my life; now, I would systematically dismantle hers. I was no longer a victim. I was the weapon./0/88616/coverorgin.jpg?v=42b0d71edb8e17462efb95f4826dc1ed&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Prisoners Of Love
"Prisoners of Love" Two souls bound by a destiny they never chose. One haunted by revenge, the other by secrets too dark to tell. When 19-year-old Liana Cruz wakes up in a stranger's mansion with no memory of how she got there, she's told she now belongs to Damian Blackthorn, a cold and powerful mafia heir who claims she destroyed his past. But what starts as revenge turns into obsession. Liana begins to remember flashes of a life she never lived, and Damian starts to question everything he's believed. As hidden truths unravel and fate tightens its grip, can love free them from the chains of the past - or will they remain... prisoners of fate?/1/101594/coverorgin.jpg?v=c1743c0940bfe706708c81dc8e1a1125&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Empress Who Buries Her Past
I sacrificed my womb and my youth to build Alec' s architectural empire from the shadows. He repaid me by bringing his mistress, Billie, to frame me for plagiarism and destroy my reputation. When my father suffered a massive heart attack, Billie used her influence to block his life-saving surgery. Alec held my dying father' s life hostage, forcing me to my knees in front of the woman who ruined me. "Apologize to her, Cydney," he commanded, "or I pull the plug." I begged. I scraped my dignity off the floor. But they let my father die anyway. Discarded and humiliated, I vanished in a plane crash, leaving only a wedding ring in a landfill. Years later, at a global summit, Alec watched his company crumble under the attacks of a ruthless new rival. He grabbed the woman in the emerald dress, his hands trembling as he recognized the eyes he thought were gone forever. "Cydney? You're alive?" I smiled, cold as ice. "Ms. Frazier is dead, Alec. I' m the one who' s going to bury you."/0/83425/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106202435&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Imposter Husband
My mother-in-law, Brenda, a vision of fragile piety, sat pregnant on my porch swing. Everyone saw a grieving widow; I saw a master manipulator. Then he arrived-the man who looked exactly like my husband, Mike, but wasn't. He defended Brenda's fake theatrics, grabbing my arm when I refused her water. Something inside me snapped. I slapped him. Brenda' s false shock turned the town against me, labeling me "unhinged." My imposter "husband" systematically destroyed my memories, even disassembling our baby' s crib. He called the sheriff, painting me a deranged threat. At a public ceremony honoring my real husband, Brenda feigned a fall, inducing premature labor. Amidst the horror, 'Mike' then accused me of infidelity, twisting my miscarriage into a tale of instability. The town condemned me, believing every word. I was the villain, the crazy wife; their judgment was a scorching fire. They thought they saw a monster. But their entire world was a carefully constructed lie. And I held the truth. "There is shame in this family," I declared, my voice cutting through their righteous fury, "but it's not mine." My methodical vengeance was about to dismantle everything./0/81154/coverorgin.jpg?v=366f4f81c09f6eeec5e9c4de03827095&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billion-Dollar Dirt Farm
The air in the Oakhaven County Courthouse records office was thick with the smell of old paper. My pen hovered over the sales agreement for the little house on Elm Street, my entire inheritance from Grandma about to be invested, mostly in my boyfriend Mark' s name. I envisioned our future, eager to make his big dreams a reality. Then, a cold dread washed over me – a memory both utterly foreign and terrifyingly real. I had signed these papers before. In that forgotten life, Mark, emboldened by newly discovered fracking rights on the land, took my money, left me for Brenda, and abandoned me. I was left with nothing, ultimately dying alone from pneumonia in a brutal winter. My eyes snapped up. Across the room, Mark leaned against the wall, whispering to Brenda. She giggled, glancing at me with a sly, triumphant smirk. "We'll paint the kitchen yellow," Brenda declared, her voice carrying, "That awful blue Sarah likes has to go." Mark chuckled, "Anything you want, Bren. It's gonna be our place, after all." My place. My inheritance. A sickening punch to the gut. This was it – the exact, soul-crushing moment of betrayal, relived. How could this be happening? Was I insane? But then, a fierce realization ignited within me. I wasn't dead. I was here. My heart hammered, "A second chance!" The naive Sarah was gone, frozen to death in another timeline. This Sarah remembered everything. My hand, trembling no longer, closed into a fist. And with a defiant roar of paper, I ripped the sales agreement in half./0/83101/coverorgin.jpg?v=c429bd9afcfe832a5c4cc6a8c74fd387&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Sarah's Desperate Choice
Michael Peterson had it all – a thriving architecture firm, a beautiful wife Sarah, and their miracle baby, Hope, due in months after years of IVF. His life was perfect. Then a single text shattered it: Sarah had terminated their much-longed-for pregnancy. Not for medical reasons, but for Jules, her toxic college ex, who supposedly needed her after a minor motorcycle accident. Michael raced to the hospital, finding Sarah caring for Jules, who had a mere broken leg. He watched, horrified, as she defended Jules, even emptying their joint accounts to fund his 'comeback.' The facade crumbled further when Michael discovered Jules was a drug addict, and Sarah, manipulated and coerced, had become addicted herself. The abortion, he learned, was a desperate, misguided attempt to protect their baby from a drug-addicted life and Michael from criminal implications. The true cost of this betrayal hit when his fierce, supportive sister, Emily, succumbed to stress-induced aneurysm while fighting to clear his name, leaving Michael utterly alone amidst financial ruin. How could one man's insidious influence, fueled by his wife's twisted loyalty, unravel a life built on love and dreams, dragging everyone through such profound despair and ultimately claiming innocent lives? With everything lost-family, fortune, and the very hope he once cherished-Michael is left facing total annihilation. Now, stripped bare of his past, he wanders the vast, empty landscapes of America, searching for a path forward, or perhaps just a reason to keep driving. His journey has just begun, but where will it lead?/0/84399/coverorgin.jpg?v=74487f6f03ddd086ca935c46c1a991dd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Wife on the Wire: A Mother's Sacrifice
My first life ended with a bomb, a cruel joke played by my own husband, Andrew. Then, a blink, and I was back, the bitter taste of betrayal fresh on my tongue. This time, it wasn't me on the bomb, but my mother-in-law, trapped on a pressure plate in a derelict industrial lot. Andrew, an EOD expert, was our only hope, but I knew his true colors. In my past life, he let me die while he was out with his high school sweetheart, Sabrina. This time, he scoffed, called it a prank, and refused to come, humiliating his own mother in front of the entire town. He even accused me of trying to ruin his "perfect day" with Sabrina, leaving his frantic mother abandoned and weeping. The world watched as my mother-in-law' s strength gave out, her legs trembling on the brink of disaster. How could he be so monstrously cruel, so utterly devoid of humanity, to abandon his own mother to a a gruesome death, all for a date? Knowing there was no other choice, and vowing to expose his depravity to everyone, I took a steadying breath. I placed my foot beside hers, ready to trade places and face what Andrew refused to save./1/113275/coverorgin.jpg?v=2b3c8bde39fd9db7549bf59f2d8f9d2e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Held The Sun, Then Lost It
Five years. Four hundred million dollars. And the wedding dress was never mine. I found out on a Tuesday—a C-list actress draped in my custom Vera Wang, hanging off my fiancé's arm. Six months of French lace. Six meters of Italian silk. Every stitch a promise I had made to myself: someone finally chose me for me. He locked the doors of that boutique. Froze my cards. Threatened my friends. Told the world I was just a delusional former assistant who didn't know her place. The internet called me crazy, a liar, a desperate woman who couldn't take a hint. His name trended everywhere. My accounts got suspended before I could say a word. What he never knew: his empire ran on my capital. His patents were mine. His executive assistant had been feeding me evidence for months—emails, recordings, a paper trail of fraud stretching back years. I dialed the encrypted phone. A voice said, "I've waited five years." "Then wait three more days," I said. "I'm going to tear his head off."/0/81155/coverorgin.jpg?v=f11cbc32ebe4619ffefd03a40be53569&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Jilted Ex-Wife? Billionaire Heiress!
My mother-in-law, Diane Thompson' s relentless Facebook posts, mocking my inability to conceive and celebrating "real grandchildren," had chipped away at my self-worth for two agonizing years, each jab a sharp reminder of my perceived failure, amplified by my husband, Mark' s, deafening silence as he merely dismissed her cruelty as "old-fashioned." Then, a thick envelope arrived, containing divorce papers already signed by Mark, offering a pittance of a settlement that barely covered a security deposit on a tiny apartment, followed by his chilling phone call casually confirming his colleague Brittany Evans was pregnant and demanding I sign the papers "quickly, no fuss." His cold dismissal, pushing me out of our home for an insulting pittance and a supposed "miracle," left me reeling from years of unacknowledged sacrifice and devotion, as I had quietly carried the heavy secret of his congenital azoospermia, enduring his mother' s endless interrogations about my fertility to salvage his pride. A simmering knot of suspicion tightened, confirmed when I followed his car one night, only to find him lovingly embracing a visibly pregnant Brittany Evans outside a women' s health clinic, proving their orchestrated ploy to utterly discard me for a faked pregnancy. But just as total defeat threatened to consume me, a strange calm descended, ignited by an unexpected phone call from a private investigator revealing my true identity as a wealthy lost heiress, and the shocking discovery of my adoptive mother's sealed envelope containing the undeniable proof: Mark's original medical report, detailing his infertility-the ultimate weapon against their meticulously constructed web of lies./1/104840/coverorgin.jpg?v=f9db936bdddb7da70693eaad0c652c93&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Choosing The Imposter Over His Dying Wife
My fiancée sacrificed five years of her life to save my family, falling into a deep coma. But when she finally woke up, I didn't greet her with love. I greeted her with pure hatred. Convinced by my mistress, Hailie, that Ericka was a traitor faking her illness for sympathy, I became her tormentor. When she told me she had stage four cancer, I laughed and accused her of manipulation. I locked her in a freezing safe house. I forced her into a sauna until her skin blistered, then doused her failing lungs with ice water. I dragged her out of the hospital to kneel in the rain until she collapsed. Even when she fell from a balcony, broken and bleeding, I let my men beat her. I watched her waste away, believing every one of Hailie's lies over Ericka's desperate truths. It wasn't until I saw her cold, blue body on the rocks below the cliffs that the truth finally shattered me. The autopsy confirmed the cancer I mocked was real. A hidden recording revealed Hailie had framed her all along, admitting she treated me like a dog on a leash. I realized I had tortured the woman who saved my life until she bought her own grave just to escape me. I burned Hailie alive at Ericka's funeral, but death was too easy a punishment. I lived in agony, a scarred monster praying for the end. But when I finally closed my eyes in the fire, I didn't die. I heard a beep. I opened my eyes, and the date on my phone was three years ago. The day Ericka woke up./0/80831/coverorgin.jpg?v=c190d9238218bbec28ef86dccfb1cfeb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Discarded Bride's Comeback
Ava, an interior designer, was at her grand wedding rehearsal dinner, just hours from marrying affluent director Ethan. Suddenly, Ethan's adopted sister, Chloe, collapsed. He abandoned Ava, rushing her away. An hour later, Ethan called: Chloe was pregnant, and the baby was his. Ethan coldly demanded Ava cancel their wedding, quit her job, and raise his love child. Reeling, Ava returned home to find her grandmother's quilt, among her belongings, dumped outside their shared condo. Inside, Ethan caressed Chloe's belly. Chloe then "accidentally" ruined the quilt. When Ava confronted them, Ethan violently shoved her, causing her to hit her head and bleed, completely ignoring her. The audacity was sickening. How could he betray her so utterly, demanding she accept his monstrous secret and raise his child? This public humiliation and callous disregard for her physical safety ignited a cold fury. It was her 30th birthday—the exact day a silly childhood pact with best friend Liam was set to expire. Ava stared at the monster Ethan had become. With unwavering resolve, she walked back to the dinner, dramatically removed her diamond engagement ring, and placed it before Ethan's powerful father, declaring the wedding canceled. This time, she was truly breaking free./0/83427/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106202557&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Mistress's Kiss: A Decade of Deceit
It was our tenth wedding anniversary, but the celebration was interrupted by a jarring Instagram post. My husband Julian' s mistress, Brooke, shared a photo of them kissing in his high-rise office, captioned, "Closing the biggest deal of our lives. Some partnerships are just meant to be. 😉" He brought her home later, forcing me to host her and then locking me in a dark pantry when I refused to cook their "special meal." For four years, Julian had relentlessly tormented me and our daughter, Sophie, based on a cruel lie Brooke fed him. He made me book their romantic getaways, ridiculed Sophie' s finger paintings as "low-class," and destroyed my art, calling me worthless. The cruelty peaked when Brooke deliberately injured Sophie, leaving her unconscious, and Julian refused medical help until I completed an unimaginable task. He forced me into the garage, a place steeped in the trauma of my father' s death by fire, and ordered me to strip a vintage car using the very tools that had killed him. Every roar of the sander, every chemical fume, plunged me back into the horrifying night my father died, but Sophie' s bleeding face was my only anchor. I became a machine, powered by a mother' s desperate will, enduring torture to save my child from a man who now embodied pure hatred. Julian finally broke when our seven-year-old Sophie, waking in the hospital, dropped his expensive doll into the trash and calmly told him, "My mommy said my real daddy is gone." That same night, a drunken Julian confessed the elaborate lie Brooke had spun, thinking I' d cheated, unraveling his entire world. But he couldn't see that David, his assistant, had helped me secure his signature on airtight divorce papers days ago. Sophie and I finally walked away, leaving him kneeling defeated in his hollow mansion, driving West towards a new, truly free life under the vast Texas sky./1/115548/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260512165111&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Fiancé's Warning, Her Second Chance
My fiancé, Jadon, proposed on the Fourth of July. It was the perfect moment I had dreamed of since we were kids. That night, he called me on FaceTime. But the man on the screen wasn't him. It was a version of him from five years in the future, his face hollow with regret. He laid out a horrifying timeline of betrayal. He was sleeping with my best friend and business partner, Kimberly. She would use his venture capital to steal my architectural firm. She would sabotage my father' s life-saving kidney transplant, leaving him to die. And she would maliciously cause a future pregnancy to end in tragedy, murdering our unborn child. My entire world-my love, my friendship, my future-was a lie. The two people I trusted most were plotting my complete ruin. This broken man from the future, desperate to atone, gave me a roadmap to escape. So I drove my car off a cliff and faked my own death, determined to rewrite the story they had written for me./0/58445/coverorgin.jpg?v=5298c442553c787ba12601da756766ca&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Soul of My Beloved
When I was being tortured to death, my daughter was preparing dinner for her mother-in-law. The last thing she said to me was, "Don't you know today is the day your mother is being discharged from the hospital?! Don't bring bad luck on this auspicious day!" One day later, the hospital received a broken body that needed to be reconstructed. What my daughter didn't know was that the body she had sewn back together with her own hands was that of her own mother, whom she hated the most./0/84401/coverorgin.jpg?v=cd4cf00dd4118d521ca0b153c18e34b6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
