Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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His Unwanted Family: A Wife's Revenge
I woke up in the same rotting trailer, the familiar smell of damp and despair assaulting me. My head throbbed, not from pills, but from the searing pain of a life lived twice. Next door, my frail mother-in-law Carol coughed weakly, and my son Leo whimpered, burning with fever. This was my second chance, a harrowing rebirth from an existence I’d tragically ended. In my first life, I’d watched Leo succumb to a rare virus, his grandmother die of grief, utterly abandoned by my husband, Captain David Miller. We’d been left to rot in rural West Virginia while he thrived on base with his mistress, Jessica. Now, Leo was critically ill again, his only hope a prohibitively expensive, experimental antiviral. When we finally arrived at Fort Devereux, David’s reaction wasn’t relief, but utter fury and embarrassment. He lied to his commanding officer, pretending we were "church folks" whose house burned down, then raged at me for threatening his career. We discovered the money David claimed to send was instead funding Jessica’s luxurious life and her daughter Lily’s private daycare. But the ultimate betrayal came when he violently smashed Leo's desperately needed medicine, prioritizing his mistress and his perfect image over his dying son. A guttural, animalistic scream ripped from my soul as our only hope for Leo shattered on the wall. How could a father be so monstrous, so utterly devoid of humanity, to sacrifice his own child for a lie? The decades of neglect, the constant starvation, the unfeeling silence from him—it all coalesced into a blinding rage. My grief transformed into an unyielding steel. As military police arrived, I clutched my feverish son, pointed at David, and my voice rang out. “I am Sarah Miller, Captain David Miller’s legal wife,” I declared to the horrified onlookers. “And he just destroyed our dying son’s life-saving medicine!”/0/86531/coverorgin.jpg?v=24e22ad953b0ac5addf383624699c9c4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Stolen Life, Stolen Love
The first thing I noticed was the jarring yellow light, not the soft city gray I expected, and a small boy playing on my bedroom floor. He looked at me with wide, innocent eyes and smiled, saying, "Mommy, you're awake!" My heart hammered. Then my husband, Mark, walked in, followed by my parents, casually talking about "our son, Leo," as if this wasn't an impossible nightmare. They presented a birth certificate, DNA test, and even hospital footage, all with my name, proving I was Leo' s mother, claiming my successful career was a delusion caused by mental illness. They drugged me, gaslit me, and painted me as the unstable one, making me doubt my entire memory and sanity. How could my own body, my own family, betray me so completely? Was I truly losing my mind? Just as I surrendered to this crushing reality, a woman identical to me, my long-lost twin sister Ashley, appeared, triggering a chilling revelation: the lie was real, but it wasn't mine-it was hers. This child, this life, belonged to Ashley, while Mark and my parents had conspired to steal my identity and sanity. I had to play their game, pretending to accept my "illness," to reclaim my life and unmask their monstrous deception./1/115159/coverorgin.jpg?v=084e21dd5b8af92bac39b42a031d5df1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted Wife And Her Secret Empire
I opened my eyes to a tearing pain and an unfamiliar ceiling, lying next to the most powerful man in the capital. Foreign memories crashed into my mind. I had transmigrated into the body of Irena Frost, a woman who had just drugged and trapped the cold, ruthless heir Evertt Barton into a scandalous marriage. The original owner did it to escape being sold to a murderous old merchant by her own cruel father. But Evertt didn't know that. When he woke up, his eyes were full of absolute disgust. He threw a prenuptial agreement at my face, demanding a quiet divorce in two years and warning me not to use a pregnancy to blackmail his family. Everyone in the estate treated me like a greedy, pathetic joke, just waiting for the day I would be thrown out onto the streets. The original Irena had died in despair, terrified and hated by the man she chose as her only shield. I felt a deep ache for the girl who had to ruin her own reputation just to survive. I absolutely refused to let this second chance be dictated by a man who despised me. I looked right into Evertt's icy eyes and demanded an astronomical divorce settlement to play his perfect wife. "Deal. I consider it a job." With millions wired to my account and a magical spatial ring from my past life suddenly awakening on my finger, I stopped crying. I was going to use his money to build a massive commercial empire in secret, and when the two years were up, I would leave without looking back./1/111561/coverorgin.jpg?v=fd151c2a0fbe4a368f376eaa030f71ed&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Snow Fell, I Walked Away: He Came Back Too Late
Celine was a top negotiation expert in the police force, but she never imagined encountering her husband's assistant attempting suicide during a call to action. She rushed to intervene, only to discover her husband's affair with the assistant. To appease the assistant, her husband even tricked Celine into signing divorce papers. Heartbroken and disillusioned, Celine ultimately chose to divorce him and joined a secretive military boot camp, determined to sever all ties with the unfaithful man. Yet, the jerk was left in utter regret!/0/85749/coverorgin.jpg?v=9fae4c6ee770cb995c42c029ce96ff33&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Shadow, Her Betrayal, His Rise
The blinding white of the hospital ceiling. My ears registered the monotonous beep of a machine, my body a dull ache radiating from my chest, but my mind was replaying a lifetime. A lifetime I didn't swerve, didn't fight, a life where I gave everything for her, for Sarah Miller. I saw myself hollowed out, unfulfilled, alone, a footnote in her brilliant biography, my own child a ghost. Then the blinding clarity: this wasn't just a brush with death, it was a preview of the life I was about to lose myself in. My gaze drifted-Sarah, impeccable as always, on her phone, brow furrowed. And next to her, Alex, murmuring, his hand on her arm, a gesture far too familiar. They were a perfect, closed circuit. I was the outsider. A cold certainty settled in my chest, more real than the pain from my injuries: I would not let that life happen. My hands trembled, not from weakness, but from a newfound resolve. I called my boss. "Mike! I heard about the accident. Are you okay? Do you need anything?" "I'm okay, Mark," I said, my voice raspy. "But I'm calling to resign." "Resign? Mike, what are you talking about? You're our top young talent. We were just about to put you on the downtown high-rise project." "I don't want the high-rise," I said, with surprising strength. "I want the sustainable community project. The one in Oak Creek. I know it's a pay cut. I know it's in the middle of nowhere. I'll take it. I need to do it." A weight I hadn't realized I was carrying lifted from my shoulders. It felt incredible. This was my second chance. My life wasn't going to be a footnote in Sarah Miller's biography. It was going to be my own story. Starting now./1/103583/coverorgin.jpg?v=9f72a9f91d1d0359976013e97636d20a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Scapegoat Heiress's Grand Comeback
I gave up my family's fortune and a political dynasty for my fiancé of five years, Hoyt. I chose him over everything for a simple life. But when his socialite mistress, Bella, got a DUI, he demanded I take the fall. When I told him I was pregnant, he ordered me to get an abortion. "I'm in love with Bella," he said, his eyes cold. "I always have been." He brought her into our home. At a fundraiser, she tripped me, and as I lay bleeding on the floor, Hoyt walked away. His mother then had me abducted from the hospital, and in a cold, abandoned warehouse, I lost our child. They took everything from me-my love, my future, my baby. They thought they had erased me, the quiet, unassuming grant writer they saw as a convenient scapegoat. They were wrong. At their glamorous engagement party, I made my entrance. And with me, my grandfather, Senator Abelardo Brown. They had no idea who they'd just declared war on./1/108589/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260302164123&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Wanted a Doll, I Became a Legend
After three years together, the man who had once promised to marry me, Babur Caldwell, threw me out the moment he got into Redmont University. "Valeria, a pretty little fool who only knows how to dress up, how could you ever be worthy of someone like me, a future elite of Gilded Row?" Later, when I, Valerie Quinn, became the Financial Queen admired by thousands, he knelt in front of me, sobbing, begging for another chance. Holding the bouquet Kearney Smith had sent me, I answered in the same tone he had once used. "Sorry, Babur, someone as short-sighted as you isn't worthy of an elite like me."/1/116098/coverorgin.jpg?v=ab66ff2b71260387a23f1727c5359e7e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Escaping The Billionaire's Gilded Cage
For three years, my fiancé Jaxon kept me locked away in a top Swiss psychiatric clinic, claiming it was the only way to cure my severe PTSD. But as I was signing my discharge papers, the receptionist handed me a recovery certificate dated a full twelve months ago. She casually mentioned that my heavy "psychiatric medication" for the past year had been nothing but vitamin supplements. I rushed back to New York to surprise him, only to overhear him laughing in his private club. He had been married to a billionaire socialite the entire time I was locked away. "A few tweaked medical reports, the right 'medication' to keep her foggy. It bought me the time I needed to secure my marriage." His mother then threw a massive check in my face, ordering me to disappear. Later, a toxicologist friend tested my leftover "vitamins." They weren't just sedatives; they were chemical castration drugs designed to permanently sterilize me. The man who swore to protect me after my father's death had orchestrated my imprisonment and tried to destroy my body, all while playing the devoted fiancé. But Jaxon miscalculated one crucial detail. I was already six weeks pregnant with his child. I picked up his mother's check, wiped away my tears, and crushed the fake pills under my heel. "Help me disappear without a trace." I spoke into the burner phone, deciding right then to take my baby and build an empire of my own./0/81369/coverorgin.jpg?v=8803429e778940f883d1b83ded4ba948&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Vanishing $28,000
My fiancé Mark' s mother, Carol, beamed with a chillingly sweet smile as she handed me a debit card, a generous gift of $28,000 for our condo down payment. Settling into their Austin living room, I felt an overwhelming sense of security and belonging, a perfect start to our life together as I thanked them profusely. That warm glow brutally extinguished just days later at Best Buy when the cashier, after swiping the card, simply stated, "Insufficient funds." My heart plummeted; an ATM display confirmed the horrifying truth: a mere $800 remained, $27,200 of our future seemingly vanished into thin air. When I confronted Mark and Carol, their united front delivered a cold slap of denial and insidious gaslighting. Carol cooed about how easy it was to "forget a transaction or two," while Mark casually dismissed my concern, both subtly implying I was either incompetent or lying. The true betrayal came when Carol orchestrated a call to my parents, painting me as a scatterbrained bride overwhelmed by wedding plans, swaying even my own family' s trust. I was completely isolated. How could my future in-laws, and even my fiancé, turn so cruelly, so deliberately, attempting to frame me and strip away my credibility? The initial joy and security were replaced by a bitter cocktail of shock, anger, and a dawning, terrifying realization: this wasn't about missing money; it was about an elaborate, calculated scheme to control me. But a fierce resolve hardened within me; I wouldn't be their victim. With my best friend by my side, I vowed to expose their lies, no matter the cost, turning their game back on them step by calculated step./1/101393/coverorgin.jpg?v=cc6dca3fdf81c4ad6b5ec532b3253f33&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Blind Wife's Return: Rising From Ashes
I went to the Department of Vital Records to pick up my four-year-old son's death certificate, but I left with a birth certificate for my husband's illegitimate child. The date of birth was August 14th. My son, Leo, had drowned in October. While I was choosing a casket for our child, Eli had been holding his newborn with another woman. I tried to confront him at a charity gala, but his mistress walked in holding their son's hand. The boy pointed at Eli and innocently asked if they were playing the "game" again—the same game they were playing in the bedroom while Leo wandered into the pool and drowned. The truth shattered me. I screamed, lunging at the monsters who let my son die. But Eli didn't comfort me. He shoved me off the stage to protect his mistress, breaking my leg in front of everyone. Later, to silence me forever, his family had me beaten and dumped under a bridge, leaving me blind and broken in the freezing rain. They thought I was dead. They thought they had won. But I survived. I found a doctor who could perform a radical procedure: Targeted Memory Suppression. I chose to surgically excise Eli Stark from my mind completely. Six months later, I stood on stage as a celebrated neuroscientist, my sight restored and my life reclaimed. A haggard, weeping man approached me with a massive diamond ring, begging for a second chance. I looked at him with clear, unrecognizing eyes and asked, "Excuse me, do I know you?"/1/101706/coverorgin.jpg?v=895acc362b7f5efc456b94567187011b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Frozen Cargo, A Betrayed Wife
My husband made me ride in the freezing cargo hold because his mistress wanted peace and quiet. I died back there, clutching the "vitamins" she gave me, while they laughed in the front seat. It wasn't until my frozen body was found that Atlas realized he had just killed his own wife and unborn child. Ten years ago, I saved Atlas from a car crash that left me with the mind of a child. He hated me for it. He treated me like a burden and let his mistress, Kacie, feed me high-dose abortion pills disguised as health supplements. When the police uncovered the truth, Atlas' s world shattered. He discovered Kacie had never been pregnant-but I was. Consumed by a belated, violent rage, he executed Kacie with his own hands and demanded the death penalty for himself. He thought death would be his redemption. He thought he could find me on the other side and make amends. But when his spirit finally reached out to mine, begging for forgiveness, I didn't feel the love I had yearned for in life. I felt nothing. "Go away, Atlas," I whispered, watching his soul crumble. "I'm finally free."/1/100611/coverorgin.jpg?v=57a478b1274d5f05b82224969eaddcf1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Surgeon's Cold, Calculated Resolve
My husband, Clark, gave me a choice: save the mother of the woman who killed my own, or he would destroy my sister's life. He held a fabricated video over my sister Anissa's head, a cruel lie that would ruin her future. I performed the surgery, saving the life of my enemy's mother, but the blackmail drove Anissa to take her own life. When I confronted him, he didn't just break my heart. He had his Dobermans maul my hands, the ten-million-dollar hands that had saved countless lives, shattering the bones and ending my career forever. He then threw me out, leaving me for dead on a deserted road after I was brutally attacked. I had lost my mother, my sister, and my life's work, all at the hands of the man who swore to love and protect me, the man I once saved on the operating table. But as I lay in a hospital bed for the last time, a cold, calculated resolve settled deep in my bones. I made a single phone call to a man from my past. "Apollo," I whispered, my voice raw but steady. "I'm ready. I want him destroyed. Every last piece of him."/0/84811/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106205113&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Telepath's Accidental Heroism
The forest' s quiet shattered as a bleeding FBI agent burst through my cabin door, collapsing at my feet. My perfectly normal afternoon nap was over, replaced by the immediate, terrifying certainty that trouble had found our isolated home. Ben Carter, handsome even as he bled out, was shot, his partner dead, and he was tangled in a massive counterfeiting ring leading straight to Senator Thompson. My stomach dropped – this was the kind of mess my sheriff dad always warned against. But then, as he gasped for help, a deeper dread set in: he heard my unspeakable thoughts. He heard everything I knew about him, about Thompson, about the danger. My father arrived, intervening with Thompson's thugs, but not before he too picked up on my mental broadcasts, his face paling as he realized the depth of the conspiracy I'd unwittingly revealed. Our quiet life was over, replaced by federal agents, corrupt senators, and a constant, terrifying loss of privacy over my own mind. How could I possibly live like this? My ability, usually just a nuisance, had now put us all in mortal danger, linking us irrevocably to a corrupt politician who wanted Ben dead. This wasn't some fantasy hero journey; it was an exhausting, terrifying invasion of my every private thought, broadcasting them to everyone around me. Yet, as Thompson' s people sped away and Ben lay bleeding on our rug, a terrifying question formed in my mind: if my thoughts were this loud, could they also be my weapon?/0/86532/coverorgin.jpg?v=bc238c5793f20b75da80777b312f8d90&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Dancer's Ruin, The Heiress' Rise
The world came back in pieces – white ceilings, antiseptics, and screaming pain in my legs. Just scant hours earlier, I was a dancer, living a dream. I' d secured the lead role with the most prestigious company, my future dazzling bright. Then, the alley. The cold pavement. Shadows that became men, their grunts, their laughter, and the blinding pain that extinguished my world. Now, a steady beep. I was alive, but my body felt like a broken prison. That' s when I heard their voices outside my hospital room. My fiancé, Ethan, and my brother, Caleb. The two men I trusted most. Their words were a poison, chilling me to the bone: "The job is done, Caleb. They did exactly what we paid them to do... She' s out of the picture." My mind reeled. Paid them? The men who did this to me? It couldn't be. Hallucinations from a head injury, surely. But then, Ethan' s voice, sharp and cruel: "Think about what's at stake. The inheritance. Sophia's future... Ava was in the way." My own brother, complicit. The protectors I relied on were the monsters who brutalized me. And the doctor' s grave prognosis confirmed my worst fears: "She will never dance again." Ethan' s sigh of relief, Caleb' s chilling agreement to "standard care only," condemned me to a life of pain and disability, ensuring my ruin. They were chaining me to a fate worse than death itself. I was meant to be their broken doll, a pawn in their twisted game. But as a single tear traced a path down my temple, a silent fury ignited. I wasn't just observing. I was watching. And I was going to make them pay./0/22080/coverorgin.jpg?v=0fef1b0e62b94a2cd66b5a0394c2bd05&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Loving an alien
An experiment resulted in entry of two alien human hybrids to Earth. They fell in love with the human girls. Rowen: I think I love her. I think I can't continue living without her. But I must leave this planet soon. I should leave her alone in grief. Can she be happy if I leave? Should I continue loving her and leave without a notice? Is it right? Hazel: I have fallen for him without knowing anything about him. Should I confess my feelings and be together with him or continue staying as his friend? Does he love me back when I confess or leave me shattered by rejecting me? Will they overcome their confusions and live a lovely life together or go in their separate paths? What is their destiny which brought a human and an alien together? After knowing his identity, will the love still continue? Read the story to find out the love story of them./0/80744/coverorgin.jpg?v=9a8e49575c85365023b2a2fbd1838faf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
One F-250, Many Felonies
Attending my high school reunion felt like a lifetime ago. I drove my dusty Ford F-250, trying to keep a low profile – just another forgotten face in an ocean of luxury cars, maintaining the façade of a normal life for agency protocols. But some things never change. Brad Harrington Jr., still the same loudmouth, instantly targeted me and my "work truck," sneering, "Still pushing paper for the government, Carter?" My old crush, Jessica Monroe, chimed in, "Some things never change, do they, Ethan? Still aiming low." Their privileged condescension was a familiar tune, but it grated, especially with a critical national security call looming. When I tried to leave for that classified call, Brad – flanked by his private security – outright blocked my path. He escalated from insults to threats, then, with a twisted grin, ordered his goons to vandalize my truck. "Teach him some respect!" he gloated. A crowbar, a tire iron – nothing could even scratch it. Brad himself stormed out, screaming in frustration, while I watched, my urgent mission hanging by a thread. All through their pathetic display, I kept quiet. They saw a "government pencil-pusher," a "loser." They had no idea that "work truck" was classified federal property, or that their "private event" was now jeopardizing something far beyond their comprehension. Their ignorance was almost laughable, if not for the high stakes involved. That's when I calmly pulled out my satellite phone. As Brad hammered uselessly at the F-250, I pressed a single speed dial. "Blacksite Actual," I said, my voice low and clipped. "Situation Foxtrot... Hostile local interference. Requesting immediate response, Protocol Delta." The reunion was about to get a very real, very federal wake-up call./1/109685/coverorgin.jpg?v=a7e47fb1896ac808a5a6123946b175ca&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Chose Her, I Chose Us
On our tenth anniversary, I found the divorce papers my husband, Drake, had secretly filed a year ago. That same night, I watched him walk into our favorite restaurant, his arm wrapped around his pregnant campaign manager, Chelsea. I soon learned his plan was more monstrous than a simple affair. He had tricked me into signing the papers, intending for me to raise his mistress's child as my own-a perfect political cover for the wife who couldn't conceive. When Chelsea later faked a fall and blamed me, the hatred in Drake's eyes confirmed everything. "If anything happens to her or my child," he snarled, shoving me aside, "I will never forgive you." He didn't know my secret. After twelve agonizing rounds of IVF, I was finally pregnant-with twins. He had made his choice, and now I was making mine. I would disappear with my children, and he would never see us again./0/74956/coverorgin.jpg?v=15e883502ffbb53e6d56b42347b1326e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Married, Divorced, Desired Again
Three years of marriage couldn't melt Theo's frozen heart. When an art gallery collapsed on Lena, he was off romancing another woman-lavishing her with a private jet. Three steel pins held Lena's shoulder together, but her heart remained broken. She filed for divorce and told everyone that he was impotent. Rising from the rubble, Lena blazed onto the design world's A‑list. She expected him to sail off with his true love-until Theo reappeared at her runway, pressing her against the wall. "Impotent, huh? Care to give it a try?"/1/103584/coverorgin.jpg?v=b30c4aaa02526a42ba8a7f2e4e752061&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Discarded Girlfriend, Claimed By His Cousin
For years, I was the perfect, understanding girlfriend. I watched my boyfriend, Brendan, and his "family friend," Kasey, flaunt their affair, but my career as an event planner was tied to his powerful family, so I endured the humiliation in silence. That all changed on the way to a charity gala I had meticulously planned. I saw a fresh hickey on Kasey's neck, a silent, screaming testament to their latest betrayal, right in front of my face. I finally broke up with him. The fallout was immediate and brutal. My own brothers hunted me down, calling me a "gold-digging whore" before dragging me back to our family. They threw a settlement agreement at me, demanding I apologize to Brendan for the "good of the family." When I refused, they disowned me. My career was systematically destroyed, leaving me with nothing. I was just a pawn they had used and discarded. The weight of it all became too much, and I collapsed, alone in my new, empty apartment. As my vision faded, I heard a key turn in the lock. It was Brendan's cousin, Graham-the quiet, powerful lawyer I'd shared a secret, passionate kiss with in the car that very same day./1/101394/coverorgin.jpg?v=9532f90e9932899ba343f7cb14147540&imageMogr2/format/webp)
