Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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The Angel Who Burned: A Small Town's Inferno
Sarah Miller was the epitome of small-town success: valedictorian, destined for a full scholarship at State University, a beacon of hope. Everyone in our tight-knit community called her an angel, a ray of sunshine, always with a bright smile. Just hours after delivering a graduation speech full of dreams, she was supposed to be celebrating with friends and family. But as the community hall burned, its roof collapsing in a fiery roar, Sarah stood across the street, motionless, her face illuminated by the inferno. The smell of burning wood, and something else, something sickening, filled the air, as sparks flew like angry fireflies. When Officer Kowski grabbed her arm, she showed no fear, only an unsettling calm, soot smeared on her hands. Then, she whispered the chilling words: "They all deserved to die." Her parents, reeling from disbelief, watched their daughter admit to mass murder, their tears mingling with raw, ragged pain. The town, still mourning their "heroes"-Pastor David, Mr. Henderson-couldn't reconcile the angelic Sarah with the monster she confessed to being. Her subsequent suicide attempt in her cell only deepened the mystery, pills traced back to Henderson's private stash. The discovery of burned journal fragments suggested hidden truths, a desperate, unspoken anguish. What unspeakable evil could turn a scholarship-bound valedictorian into a mass murderer? How could the very men lauded as benefactors, who "loved her like their own daughter," inspire such cold, vengeful fire? The town saw kindness and support, but Sarah' s hollow whisper of "Care?" hinted at an unimaginable betrayal. What dark secret did this 'angel' carry, hidden beneath years of forced smiles and perfect grades? Then, Sarah finally shattered the silence, not with tears, but with a guttural scream: "They deserved it! They all deserved it!" And the terrifying, heartbreaking story, a torrent of buried pain, began to pour out, revealing the true horrors lurking beneath their idyllic small town./0/40314/coverorgin.jpg?v=899b48eeb3ea8fd920608ef5f90b79f3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The billionaire's daughter is back for Revenge
Bianca Williams is the only heir of a billionaire, whose life turns hellish after her father perishes in a fatal accident. David, her filthy stepfather, craves to embezzle her wealth and acquire Bianca as his toy. He takes advantage of her one night and forcefully takes what she didn’t intend to give. After finding out his secrets are about to be revealed, David hires an assassin to silence Bianca but did not anticipate the assassin to have a hidden agenda of his own. In the process of enacting their vengeance, Bianca and her assassin become closer…something neither of them thought would happen. There’s no love in the world of assassins, and no one can be trusted when you’re the only heir to a billionaire dynasty. What happens when they are on the edge of eliminating each other in the name of vengeance?/0/99364/coverorgin.jpg?v=5c8ee0c1dd3fadd99ac53741bdc00829&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Den's Secret: A Bride's Fury
Seven days before my wedding, an anonymous email led me to a members-only site called "The Den." The video was raw and explicit. The man in the wolf mask, with his familiar jawline and confident movements, was my fiancé, Damon. But the true gut punch was recognizing the woman with him: my best friend and maid of honor, Katina. Their betrayal escalated into a nightmare-a staged car accident that cost me our unborn child. I soon discovered Damon never loved me; he'd proposed only for my family's connections to fund his startup. My entire world wasn't just a lie; it was a cold, calculated scheme that had left me broken and childless. They thought they had taken everything from me. They were wrong. They had just given me a reason to burn their world to the ground./1/103582/coverorgin.jpg?v=fb5b6af4f48238271e0ff9827afb0637&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Jilted Bride To Ruthless CEO
I was Jocelyn Cruz, heiress to a billion-dollar empire, and I was supposed to marry my childhood sweetheart, Jake. My father had groomed him to be my king, and our life was a storybook romance. But just before my 25th birthday gala, I saw him kissing Djuna-the fragile orphan my father took in, the woman I treated like a sister. Their betrayal ran deeper than I could imagine. They drugged me to cause a riding accident, then gaslit me to make me think I was losing my mind. At a public auction, Jake froze my accounts and bought a family heirloom I cherished, only to gift it to her in front of everyone, leaving me broken and humiliated. He wanted to shatter me, to turn me into a mindless puppet he could control. So when he played a secret video of me crying for him at my own birthday party, I didn't break. Instead, I smiled. Because I had my own recordings, and I was about to show everyone the vipers he and his "true love" really were./0/85413/coverorgin.jpg?v=f505504def9c06331a2e6add6e333a7f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Betrayed Heart, My Stolen Life
The first thing I heard wasn't a doctor's voice but a detached system humming in my head: "Welcome back, Liam Miller." I woke from a six-month coma, only to find my home infested. My wife Sarah, pale and distant, offered no embrace, just a flat, "You're back." My children, Emily and Josh, stared at me like a stranger, then scurried behind another man. He was in my clothes, in my spot at my table, with his arm around my wife-Mark Harrison, a disturbing mirror image of me, radiating triumph. My son, Josh, clutched Mark's leg and mumbled, "You' re not our daddy. Mark is our daddy." Even my in-laws, David and Carol, defended this usurper, accusing me of being "confused" and "causing trouble." I, Liam Miller, successful architect, loving husband and father, was a ghost in my own life, stripped of everything. Later, in my own living room, Sarah's phone flashed with a text from "M ❤️": "Can't wait for tonight. The kids will be asleep soon. I'll make sure he's out of the way." The betrayal was no longer a suspicion; it was a cold, hard truth. I watched, hidden, as Sarah and Mark shared an intimate kiss in my bed, heard my children call him "Daddy Mark." Then, Mark staged a scene, deliberately injuring himself and framing me for the attack. "You animal!" David roared, striking me as Emily shrieked, "I hate you! We don't want you here!" Condemned by my own family, I knew there was no going back. Just as they threw me out, I heard the roar of a familiar engine. It was Mark's car, speeding toward me. The impact. A sledgehammer of force. I lay broken, bleeding. My mother-in-law, Carol, hung up on my plea for help, accusing me of a "stunt." Then, a bowl of soup, a "gift" from Carol, reeked faintly of peanuts-the allergen that could kill me. They weren't just trying to erase me; they were actively trying to murder me. Lying in my hospital bed, I finally spoke to the voice in my head. "System," I thought, "I'm ready. I accept. Get me out of here. Whatever it takes."/0/83142/coverorgin.jpg?v=aa95f8fe389480f8c0f94008700eef7f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Stolen Hope: The Price of a Mother's Dream
My life as a gig-economy delivery driver was tough, but I always kept my head down. On Valentine' s Day, a late condom delivery for Room 12 at a sleazy motel spiraled into instant blackmail. Kevin and Tiffany, the couple, scammed me out of my day' s pay and hit me with a one-star review that cratered my job rating. Just as I thought it couldn't get worse, they escalated. They claimed Tiffany was pregnant because I was supposedly late, demanding $20,000. When I refused, they fabricated an assault, accused me of causing a miscarriage, and launched a vicious online smear campaign. They doxxed me, ruined my reputation, and got me fired; I was days from homelessness. But the ultimate blow came from the person who mattered most. My foster mother, Sarah, the kindest soul I knew, used her life savings-money she' d been meticulously saving for decades to find her long-lost son-to pay them off, just to make them stop hounding me. I couldn't believe it. Her entire hope, her deepest dream, sacrificed for me because of their elaborate lies. How could anyone be so utterly cruel, so shamelessly manipulative? And watching Tiffany flaunt new "engagement" bling, clearly funded by Sarah's stolen hope, made my stomach churn. No more. They took my job, my home, and then her dream. It wasn't about surviving anymore. It was about making them pay. Every last cent. And for everything else. I'm coming for them./0/80871/coverorgin.jpg?v=b64a675cb5720f00231fa9c0840be423&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Man They Underpaid
Alex Miller had dedicated eight years to Sterling Creative Solutions. Eight years of pouring his talent into the agency, faithfully earning a modest three thousand dollars a month. He was the bedrock, making campaigns work, building client trust. All he wanted was a fair raise. His boss, Vicky, always dismissed his requests, claiming the market was "terrible." Then, a job ad blindsided him: Sterling Creative was hiring a "Creative Intern" for $30,000 a month – ten times his salary. A week later, Vicky’s smirking nephew, Bryce, arrived to claim that role… and Alex’s very own desk. Alex found himself exiled to a hot, noisy corner by the server room, ordered to "train his replacement." The humiliation was constant. Bryce was incompetent, botching client calls, yet Vicky doted on him, even promoting him to "Lead Strategist" after just two weeks. When Bryce infuriated their biggest client, Vicky snapped at Alex: "This is *your* responsibility." For his eight years of loyal service, Alex received a single, insulting hundred-dollar bill. The knot in his stomach tightened into a vise. Eight years of dedication, now reduced to training an overpaid, talentless nepo-baby. Every day was a fresh assault on his dignity. But it was Vicky’s final, bizarre, and venomous accusation – implying he'd "mooned over her" – that snapped something inside him. The misplaced loyalty, the years of swallowing pride, shattered. "I quit," he declared, the words quiet but firm. He didn't look back. But how does a man rebuild his professional life when his foundation has been so cruelly undermined, and his reputation potentially tainted?/1/103258/coverorgin.jpg?v=7c7c68f75774e4bbe892e393254b2584&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Ex-Fiancé Stole My Dreams
For ten years, I was the indispensable right hand and fiancée to star architect Declan Sharp. I poured my life into his career, sacrificing my own ambitions for us. Our wedding was just weeks away. But my world shattered when I saw him with the new intern, Kisha. He was showing her my design, the one he called "competent," and proudly saying, "This is Kisha's idea." It got worse. He stole my groundbreaking research paper for her, then publicly dismissed me as a mere "drafting assistant." My own family attacked me, furious I had lost their meal ticket. I was just a tool. A convenient machine he used to build his empire. He never loved me; he loved what I did for him. So when he tried to kiss me to shut me up, I slapped him. I deleted every file, every blueprint, every trace of my work from his life. Then I blocked his number and bought a one-way ticket to Detroit. This time, I was building a life for myself./1/102285/coverorgin.jpg?v=5d7389d53d151757bebe6bca67338654&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Ruin: The Photographer's Comeback
I was the daughter of a wealthy tycoon, deeply in love with my fiancé, Conrad. But on our wedding day, he arrested my father. My ten-year relationship was a lie. He was an FBI agent, and my best friend, Bonny, was his accomplice. The betrayal shattered me. I was forced into electroshock therapy, which erased my talent for architectural design-the one thing that was truly mine. My life fell apart. After a failed suicide attempt, I was saved by a kind stranger and my father's last words. I rebuilt my life from the ashes, becoming a successful photographer. Years later, Conrad reappeared, full of fake regret, begging for a second chance. I looked at the man who had destroyed me and compared him to a cat that had once bitten me. "I forgave you," I told him, "but I will never trust you again." My friend Corey, acting as my fake husband, defended my honor by punching Conrad in the face. Eventually, Conrad's career imploded due to a scandal involving Bonny. He was ruined. As for me? I was in Paris, my photography career soaring, when I picked up a sketchbook. Miraculously, the lines flowed. My gift was returning. I was finally in control of my own story./0/84116/coverorgin.jpg?v=a92bccd1399bc5be06b58aba3cab3352&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No More Tears: Her Empire of Justice
The harsh fluorescent lights hummed as my son, Leo, struggled for breath, his skin a terrifying blue. "Anaphylactic shock," the doctor declared, holding the only available auto-injector – our son's last hope. But then, my husband, Matthew, burst in, dragging his whimpering mistress, Tara Lawrence, who claimed she had a minor food reaction. He demanded the life-saving epipen be given to her, shoving me aside, dismissing Leo's critical state as mere "drama." I watched in cold horror as my child's only chance was wasted, his tiny gasps fading, my world crumbling around me. His callous disregard continued as he mocked Leo's death, spilling his ashes, then locking me in the basement, calling me the monster, while Tara gloated about her pregnancy with his child. How could the man I married abandon our dying son, desecrate his memory, then imprison me? But their cruel victory was short-lived; I had a call to make, and a cold, hard resolve to show them what a true monster looked like./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./0/52645/coverorgin.jpg?v=0dada786d17056f3ae4acc3bdfe509b1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Fate's Bet: My Unwanted Tycoon Husband
Katie was forced to marry Dillan, a notorious ruffian. Her younger sister mocked her, "You're just an adopted daughter. Count your blessings for marrying him!" The world anticipated Katie's tribulations, but her married life unfurled with unexpected serenity. She even snagged a lavish mansion in a raffle! Katie jumped into Dillan's arms, credited him as her lucky charm. "No, Katie, it's you who brings me all this luck," Dillan replied. Then, one fateful day, Dillan's childhood friend came to her. "You're not worthy of him. Take this 50 million and leave him!" Katie finally grasped Dillan's true stature—the wealthiest man on the planet. That night, trembling with trepidation, she broached the subject of divorce with Dillan. However, with a domineering embrace, he told her, "I'd give you everything I have. Divorce is off the table!"/1/102286/coverorgin.jpg?v=9a14b434b943234ccdb9aedbd5b62e5a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Deafened By His Hateful Words
For eight years, I gave up my family fortune and my hearing to help my boyfriend, Emiliano Reed, become a rock star. I was his muse, his guardian angel, the silent partner in his success. Then, a miracle happened: my hearing returned. Just in time to catch him with a college student, and hear him call me a "burden" and a "charity case." The betrayal didn't end there. When his new girl wrecked the vintage car my late father gave me, I confronted her at the police station. Emiliano rushed in, not to defend me, but to protect her. He shoved me so hard I hit the floor, and the world went silent again. My hearing was gone, for a second time, because of him. "Are you deaf?" he roared at me, furious that I wouldn't just forgive him. "I gave you everything! It was exhausting, suffocating!" I looked at the man I had sacrificed everything for, the man who had just destroyed me all over again. He had no idea I'd heard every single, hateful word. "No, Emiliano," I said, my voice clear and steady. "The question is, are you deaf? Or are you just a coward?"/0/86388/coverorgin.jpg?v=7641094bb349bb1c7f42a7eedd357bed&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Sister, His Choice: My Freedom
The gallery shimmered with color, a vibrant tribute to my son Leo's first year, his framed finger paintings and tiny plaster casts proudly displayed. My art, my life, my world. Today, I was a proud mother and a celebrated artist. Then the gallery door creaked open, and a cold draft swept in with Brenda, my husband' s sister, her eyes already searching for fault lines. "An entire party for a one-year-old? A little much, don' t you think, Sarah? Most people just do a cake and some balloons." The words cut, but the real sting came when she implied my "art" was just a desperate attempt to contribute financially. Mark, my husband, stood beside me, silent, his arm tightening in a gesture of restraint, not defense. The room grew heavy with unspoken judgment, our friends shifting in discomfort. Brenda, reveling in the awkwardness, then whispered loud enough for me to hear, insulting my post-baby body. My throat tightened, and I fought back tears. This was supposed to be a moment of joy, yet here I was, wounded again by someone who delighted in tearing me down. Later, as "Happy Birthday" filled the air, and Leo' s candle flickered, Brenda' s voice sliced through the sweetness: "I wish he grows up to look a little more like Mark. Right now, with that hair, he could be mistaken for the mailman' s kid." The insinuation was vile, stripping any innocence from the day. Something inside me snapped. "Get out," I said, my voice shaking with a rage I hadn' t known I possessed. But when Brenda feigned tears, my husband, Mark, sided with her. "Sarah, that' s enough," he said, his voice cold. "You are making a scene. Apologize to my sister right now." Apologize? His words hit me harder than any slap. He didn' t defend me; he condemned me. He chose his toxic sister over his family, over me. Was this the man I married? The father of my child? My marriage, my sense of security, crumbled into a lie. My pain didn' t matter; my dignity didn' t matter. Only keeping the peace with Brenda mattered, at my expense. As Linda, my gallery-owner friend, began politely ushering guests out, a horrifying clarity washed over me. I couldn't live a life where I always came second. I had to choose myself. I had to choose my son. The battle for my voice, my boundaries, and my future had just begun./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./1/103260/coverorgin.jpg?v=8e2c6b5739a350806ec01f7c2489209a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Scientist He Erased Returns
For ten years, I was the silent engine behind my fiancé, the celebrated genius Dr. Alston Scott. I dedicated my life to our research, pouring my soul into a breakthrough that would change the world. But when that breakthrough finally came, he stole it. He put his new protégé's name, Kiara Gamble, on my life's work. At the annual colloquium, to shield Kiara from plagiarism accusations, he publicly dismissed my decade of research. "She performed some preliminary data collection," he announced to the entire institute. In that moment, I understood. I wasn't his partner; I was a tool. A convenient, disposable part he was now replacing. My family had already cast me out for losing my "golden ticket," and now, the man I loved had erased my professional existence. So after he tried to silence me with a kiss, I slapped him, walked back to my lab, and deleted everything. Every file. Every piece of data from the last ten years. Then I booked a one-way ticket to the desert./1/102287/coverorgin.jpg?v=fd43bb5ba0f53e7b691357d5cbbf97aa&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Unchained From A Toxic Marriage
My husband, Donavon, was a serial cheater, but I was always one step ahead, catching him in the act. Then, I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia. The only person in the world who could save me with a bone marrow transplant was his latest mistress, Jazmyne. To make matters worse, Donavon cut off all my funds, including the money for my mother's critical medical care. He forced me to publicly apologize to Jazmyne, humiliating me on a live stream while my mother died because the funds were delayed. "You will make a public statement," he sneered. "Acknowledge your harassment of Jazmyne. Apologize for your past erratic behavior. And you will do it on camera." Desperate and broken, I faked my own death by jumping into the Hudson River on that same live stream. I needed him to believe I was gone. Now, secretly saved and hidden away by a friend, I must fight for my life while navigating the twisted reality that my survival depends on the very woman who helped destroy me, and the man who orchestrated it all./0/99367/coverorgin.jpg?v=47ca33a9e22574683b80399aa0179126&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No Longer A Placeholder: I Rise
For three years, I was Keagan Steele's passionate secret, the "Wild Rose of Beverly Hills" who finally tamed the city's coldest billionaire. I thought our love was real, a quiet world built away from the glitz. Then I overheard him call me a "placeholder," a three-year experiment until his true love returned. That true love? My vicious stepsister, Alba. He abandoned me after a car crash, choosing to save her while I bled in the wreckage. He watched as my stepmother beat me with a horsewhip, even suggesting she use it to break my spirit. He even broke my wrist to give Alba a locket that belonged to my dead mother. When a falling light fixture threatened Alba, he dove to save her, taking the hit himself. His body, shielding hers, was the final, brutal proof: I was nothing. But as I lay broken, a chilling thought took root. If I was going to be the villain of their story, I might as well play the part. And this time, I would burn their world to the ground./0/67571/coverorgin.jpg?v=21dc2ac91cd48aed6dc7894202dc9d08&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A New Life after Miscarriage
I loved Qin Tuo for ten years and finally became his wife after his white moonlight left him. I overestimated Qin Tuo's love for me and underestimated the destructive power of his white moonlight. When I was pregnant, he was accompanying the white moonlight for her prenatal check-up. When the doctor sentenced me to death, he was taking care of the white moonlight to ensure her pregnancy. When I miscarried, he was by the side of the white moonlight, accompanying her while she gave birth. But when I wanted a divorce, he regretted it!/1/103585/coverorgin.jpg?v=2b853300042f45b1b697fcfcfa60103c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
