Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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The Billionaire's Regret: My Hidden Wife
I sat at a mahogany table long enough to land a plane on, signing the papers that ended my two-year marriage to billionaire Eric Koch. He didn't even show up for the divorce; he was in a private cigar lounge downstairs, sending his lawyer to hand me a five-million-dollar check to buy my silence like I was a discarded employee. For two years, I had perfected the role of the "mouse"—the plain, timid wife Eric looked right past, never suspecting I was actually Rose, the world-renowned designer behind a secret fashion empire. I never told him I was the "angel" who dragged his unconscious body from a burning car years ago, the woman he’d been searching for while he ignored the one across the breakfast table. To celebrate my freedom, I had a one-night stand with a stranger in a penthouse, only to wake up and realize the man I’d just slept with was my ex-husband. Before the ink on our divorce was dry, Eric used his billions to buy my studio, trapping me in a contract that forces me to work for him as a "lowly assistant" or face a fifty-million-dollar penalty. I watched in silence as a fame-hungry actress paraded around his office wearing my stolen heirloom locket—the only proof of my true identity—claiming she was the mystery woman from his bed. Eric looked right through my frumpy disguise with the same cold indifference he showed his wife, never realizing the woman he was hunting was standing right in front of him. I couldn't understand how he could be so obsessed with finding a ghost while treating the living woman who saved him like garbage. Why was he so determined to own every piece of Rose while he had spent two years throwing Aislinn away? "Tell him nothing," I whispered to my reflection as I reapplied the thick foundation that masked my face. "You're dangerous, Ann Reese," he told me later, his eyes narrowing as he sensed a familiar spark behind my thick glasses. I adjusted my bun and looked him in the eye, ready to play the long game. He thinks he’s bought my future, but he’s about to find out that Rose doesn’t just design couture—she designs ruins./0/68155/coverorgin.jpg?v=d7d8c7f82ba3e7be24edd1119ef3f54a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Runaway Bride Hid A Million Mysteries
A sudden twist of fate connected Helena to a prominent and influential person. To onlookers, she appeared as a naive bimbo. In truth, she was a top-tier specialist, shrouded in layers of hidden identities. Charlie declared, “She’s quite delicate and easily hurt. Cross her, and you’re crossing me.” The elite families, outwitted by Helena's prowess, kept these truths from him. Helena eventually broke free from Charlie, sending him on a frenzied worldwide hunt. To him, she was a bird with dazzling wings, and his goal was to help her reach new heights./0/58456/coverorgin.jpg?v=153b30c2180b3775a4148371c35f0d72&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Love Torment
Three years ago He accidentally fell from a building, resulting in a disability in both legs. The doctor said the hope of recovery was slim. I accompanied him to grasp that slim hope. Three years later, he recovered. He's once again a hotshot business tycoon. But he told his friend, "I have always been afraid to touch her, afraid to see her shrunken feet under her skirt, afraid I can't control my disgust..." But he didn't know, I lied to him. My legs have never had any problems./1/103197/coverorgin.jpg?v=33bfc2bde1fa5a10d0f48c9b2623365f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Dying Wish: A Fiancé's Betrayal
My family and fiancé begged me to donate my last remaining kidney to my twin sister, Kyleigh. They didn't know I was already dying. My fiancé, Axel, gave me an ultimatum. "Donate the kidney, or I'll break our engagement and marry Kyleigh. It's her dying wish." I agreed, only for them to frame me for plagiarism with my own thesis, forcing me to confess on camera. They never knew I was the one who secretly saved our father with my other kidney five years ago-a sacrifice Kyleigh had stolen all the credit for. As they wheeled me into the operating room, they celebrated with Kyleigh, promising her a future built on my death. I was already a ghost to them. But I died on the table. The surgeon, seeing the old surgical scar and the poison riddling my body, walked out to face them. "This wasn't a donation," she announced, her voice cold as steel. "This was murder."/1/102102/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106222227&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Choosing The Assistant Over The Ruthless CEO
I signed my own divorce papers thinking they were an investment in our future. Craig handed me the stack of documents with a smile, telling me it was to secure assets for our unborn children. I trusted him more than gravity, so I didn't read the fine print. Hours later, at his promotion party, I watched him announce his engagement to Chanel, the company heiress. I rushed to check the folder I had signed. It wasn't a trust fund. It was a complete dissolution of our marriage. I received no alimony. He kept the house and the stocks. And the box for "no child visitation" was already checked. The cruelest twist came the next morning. I stared at a pregnancy test with two pink lines. I was pregnant with the child of a man who had just tricked me into a divorce and called me "dead weight" in a text to his mistress. When I tried to disappear and rebuild my life, Craig didn't let me go. His ego couldn't handle my silence. He kidnapped me, locking me in a warehouse to "fix" our marriage, delusional enough to believe we could be a happy family after he caused me to lose the baby. I thought I would die in that cold, dark room. Then, a truck rammed through the wall, engulfed in flames. Felix, the quiet assistant I had barely noticed for five years, walked through the fire to get me. As he carried me out of the burning wreckage, leaving Craig behind, I realized he wasn't just an employee. He had been waiting to save me all along./0/83486/coverorgin.jpg?v=7c9f8203da54fdac9c61e27df869bdd8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Mother's Cold Revenge
I was dying of colon cancer in a hospice, all my $150,000 savings for retirement and my son, Ethan, almost gone. Ethan cried, telling me his girlfriend, Chloe, stole every penny for a luxury condo. I believed him completely. My hatred for that "gold-digger" burned hotter than my cancer. In my final hours, I called the police, determined to ruin Chloe for letting me die disgraced. I died filled with pure, unadulterated hate. My last thought was of her painful demise. How could she betray a dying woman so cruelly? The injustice was unbearable. Then I gasped, not in the hospice, but in my own living room, alive and whole. The doorbell chimed-the day I first met Chloe. And as she entered, I heard her innermost thoughts: "I hope she likes this locket; Ethan said she only respects expensive brands." My rage short-circuited. Ethan had lied. My son was the monster. I was back, with a chilling chance to make him pay./0/84894/coverorgin.jpg?v=87b971849af12b3aafc506304db7db61&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love's Final Condemnation
The antiseptic smell of the hospital clung to me as I watched my brother, Leo, fight for every shallow breath-his life fading, his only hope an experimental surgery with an impossible price tag. My art, once my passion, gathered dust, while my father' s legacy, his architectural masterpiece, was brazenly stolen. Julian Vance, my father' s apprentice, stood before the towering Skyline Spire, a perfect replica of my dad' s unpatented dream, "Helios." He smiled, sharp and confident, taking all the credit at its grand unveiling. Rage, hot and sharp, coursed through me. He had stolen my dying father's masterpiece, building an empire while Leo lay dying. I confronted him, shouting the truth amidst flashing cameras. He dismissed me as distraught, a hysterical girl consumed by grief, his hand on my shoulder a public brand of instability. The crowd believed him, the powerful mogul, not the desperate girl in frayed denim. His eyes, though, flickered with a fleeting, inner turmoil that I inexplicably heard, a frantic whisper of guilt and terror. Humiliated, abandoned by my own family who valued Julian' s influence over my truth, I stumbled into the cold night. A sharp pain seized my chest, and blood stained my palm. It wasn't just Leo who was sick; I was too, and time was running out. He bought my silence, evicted me, and forced me into his gilded cage. I was now his servant, subjected to endless degradation by his cruel lover, Isabella, and Julian himself, whose every action, though outwardly cold, seemed driven by a terrifying internal war. I found myself trapped, desperately trying to survive, with a new life unexpectedly growing inside me, a secret I couldn't keep./1/119936/coverorgin.jpg?v=0fc3825963023763cac0fc416651e54c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Genius Lawyer's Inescapable Arranged Marriage
Drew Sanchez, a top-tier D.C. lawyer from a powerful political family, had just ruthlessly destroyed her cheating boyfriend's life without shedding a single tear. She thought she was the absolute master of her own fate. That was until her grandfather forced her into an arranged marriage with Joseph Barron IV, a terrifyingly powerful White House advisor. Refusal meant financial and political ruin for her family. To escape the trap, Drew played a desperate game at the engagement dinner, acting like a vapid, soulless, and submissive trophy wife to disgust him. But Joseph cornered her in the hallway, his dark eyes seeing right through her elaborate charade with terrifying amusement. Instead of rejecting her, he walked back into the dining room and used her fake submission entirely against her. "I see no reason to prolong the courtship. We should move forward with filing the marriage license immediately." In front of both cheering families, Joseph dropped the bomb. Drew's blood ran cold as she realized her brilliant sabotage had spectacularly backfired. She was completely trapped in an irrevocable contract by a man whose true motives she couldn't begin to comprehend. Why did this apex predator want to marry a woman who was actively trying to deceive him? Staring at the glittering Capitol dome that night, Drew downed a glass of whiskey. Since there was no exit clause, she would have to learn his rules. This marriage was going to be her new battlefield./0/82704/coverorgin.jpg?v=b38e03c8e66eb8d613b59f0772c7c2e0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Unhinged Wife\'s Truth
My five-year-old son, Leo, was the sunshine of my life, even with the constant shadow of his severe peanut allergy. At the town picnic, Leo took a bite of a cookie, and suddenly, his vibrant laughter turned into a terrifying, choked gasp. I screamed for my husband, Mark, to get the EpiPen, but his eyes were glued on Tiffany, the preacher's daughter, as she dramatically faked a faint, her Southern charm a cruel façade. Mark, annoyed by my panic, fumbled, then dropped the vital medication to rush to Tiffany' s side, coldly telling me to "just use the damn thing." Precious seconds became an eternity as I jammed the EpiPen into Leo' s thigh, but it was too late. My son died in my arms while Mark, concerned only with appearances, blamed me, then threw me out of our home. He then twisted the narrative, using his influence to have me forcibly committed to a psychiatric hospital, branding me as an "unhinged" mother to the entire town. How could he, the man I loved, systematically destroy my reputation and freedom immediately after our child's death, all to protect his own ambitions? Just as I believed I had nothing left, an old friend, David, who had built a tech empire and returned to town in a wheelchair, offered me a stunningly strategic proposal: "Marry me." He promised a home, security, and the leverage to fight back, igniting a cold, powerful resolve in my shattered heart./0/86615/coverorgin.jpg?v=0363ad8c7db6754f294b4125ba01d9e9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Dying Heart, Her Fatal Betrayal
"You have stage four glioblastoma, Ethan. It's inoperable." The doctor' s words hit me like a physical blow, stripping the air from my lungs. Just hours earlier, I was on the brink of a breakthrough with my new social media algorithm, the one that would change everything for Harrison Tech. Now, everything had changed for me. Before I could even process the diagnosis, less than an hour later, I was brutally assaulted in an alley, my life's work ripped from my hands. My adoptive family, the Harrisons, treated my assault with cold indifference, preoccupied with celebrating their biological son, Noah, who was receiving an award-an award for my stolen algorithm. Then, the final betrayal: my girlfriend, Chloe, announced her engagement to Noah, a public display of affection with the very people who had just orchestrated my ruin. The business trip, the award, the assault-it all clicked into place, a sickening tableau of calculated cruelty. How could the family I had given everything to, the woman I loved, abandon me so completely, so callously? Why was my impending death met with such a chilling lack of empathy, traded instead for shallow ambition and a stolen legacy? With nothing left to lose, and perhaps only months to live, I resolved to cut all ties, walking out on the Harrisons and the life I thought was mine. But some betrayals run deeper than blood, and the final act of this twisted family drama was yet to play out./0/80514/coverorgin.jpg?v=05b352e0f12761faf54beedf4332f42f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Farm Girl\'s Billionaire Secret
My dad, Marcus Sterling, banished me to a remote Montana ranch after my ill-advised crypto-smoothie investment turned into an SEC headache. I, Ava Sterling, prodigal daughter of a tech mogul, was serving time for a very expensive lapse in judgment. All I wanted was a cell signal, a working phone, and to beg my dad for the G650 jet back home. The ranch, with its endless shoveling and broken fences, felt like a temporary purgatory. Then, on the eleventh morning, a sleek black Escalade crunched up the gravel driveway. A woman stepped out, an older, tired reflection of me, introducing herself as Eleanor Vance, my birth mother. The mother who, according to vague family stories, had vanished when I was a baby. It was an utterly shocking reunion, one I never anticipated. Eleanor quickly swept me into her opulent, yet startlingly cold, life in the city. Her grand house was a blur of shimmering dresses and tailored suits, a world away from my farm attire. My introduction to her husband, Richard Harrison, and her mean-girl daughter, Chloe, was anything but welcoming. "What is *that*?" Chloe drawled, her voice dripping with disdain at my mud-caked boots and ripped jeans. Richard's gaze was ice-cold as he demanded, "Get this… person out of my house." Despite Eleanor's tearful proclamations that I was "the one we lost," I was met with contempt and immediate rejection. The DNA test confirmed my identity, yet their attitude toward me only hardened; I was just an inconvenient truth. Why did this newfound family, after supposedly searching for me for two decades, treat me like an embarrassing relic? Their shock, their anger, their open scorn for me, the daughter they supposedly yearned for, left me bewildered and quietly seething. I, Ava Sterling, who was used to being celebrated, was now their dirty secret, a farm girl to be hidden away. But I wasn't some pitiable charity case; I was a genius accustomed to winning. As I picked up a plate of roast beef, ignoring their stares, a thought solidified: if they wanted a "farm girl" who was easily underestimated, they would certainly get one. This was a game, and I was just getting warmed up./0/50791/coverorgin.jpg?v=806ede9b62453355a089a0e9a88d56d9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Tempting Fate With The Tycoon
One drunken night, Miranda boldly approached Leland, only to be met with his cold and unyielding gaze. He pinned her to the wall, cautioning, "Don't provoke me. I doubt you can handle it." Soon after, her engagement fell apart, leaving her destitute. With no other options, Miranda sought refuge with Leland. Over time, she took on the role of a stepmother, caring for his child. She came to understand that Leland's decision to marry her wasn't just about her being obedient. It was also because she resembled someone he cherished. Confronted with Miranda's request for a divorce, Leland hugged her. "Please reconsider." Miranda just smiled. "Mr. Adams, are you ensnared?"/0/60803/coverorgin.jpg?v=fab5ab82e9fad1b4cfc8a39838bc7ee2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Saving The Victim Of Plastic Surgery
Here's the translation: My best friend is flat-chested and became obsessed with breast augmentation, after which a salesperson recommended her to get liposuction. I advised her against it, suggesting she should exercise more to lose weight instead. However, she not only ignored my advice but also told annoying people that I was jealous of her becoming more attractive. Later, she had a failed liposuction, her face became disfigured, and she developed infections all over her body, looking unrecognizable. When I went to visit her, she yelled at me, accusing me of coming to mock her and claiming that I was the one who caused her problems. Although I felt sad, I didn’t blame her and continued to take care of her. On the day she was discharged from the hospital, I went to pick her up, but she pushed me into the street, where I was repeatedly run over by vehicles! After being reborn, my best friend once again asked me if I wanted to get plastic surgery. "No, you'll die." I decided to keep trying to save her./0/84425/coverorgin.jpg?v=dfe38f84a59a7468e1f95cdd65e134da&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: The Doctor's Verdict
It was our eighth wedding anniversary, and nine hundred and ninety-nine imported orchids, courtesy of my husband Ethan, filled the ER breakroom, a suffocating monument to his wealth and our utterly hollow marriage. My name is Sarah, an ER doctor, and just a month ago, I lost our baby – our second child – alone, terrified in the hospital. That night, Ethan was at a "critical work dinner" with his assistant, Chloe, claiming he couldn't leave my side. His grand gesture of impersonal flowers was a chilling reminder of how little he truly cared, or how little he bothered to know me anymore. When I finally called, his voice was impatient; he dismissed my desperate plea to talk, sighing about my work stress before hanging up. Later, at our cold, modern penthouse, he offered an expensive diamond necklace, likely chosen by Chloe, ignoring my quiet but firm demand for a divorce. He scoffed, calling me "dramatic," bragging about the "best" orchids. Worse, his family, led by his domineering mother Eleanor and always-present Chloe, began using our son, Leo, as leverage, subtly painting me as emotionally unstable. Why was the man who once gave me a single, dollar-pink carnation, a symbol of genuine, selfless love, now so utterly incapable of seeing me at all? How could he respond to the agonizing loss of our child with a callous remark about me being "stretched thin with my career?" His profound indifference, coupled with his family' s insidious manipulation, transformed my deep grief into a cold, unwavering fury. After years of swallowing my anger and enduring their polished cruelty, I finally reached my breaking point at their opulent Connecticut estate. I was done being ignored, done being dismissed. It was time to shatter their perfect, miserable charade and reclaim every piece of my life./0/86928/coverorgin.jpg?v=44970da81940a1b6c54f6d2941a67bf0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When Love Poisons Your Dream
Tomorrow was the grand opening of my dream restaurant, "Aura," a place I'd poured my life and soul into. As I stood there, taking it all in with my girlfriend and business partner, Sarah, a man from the Department of Health showed up for a "surprise inspection" based on an "anonymous tip." My blood ran cold when he walked directly to the walk-in, pulling out rancid meat and a dead rat from a container I' d never seen. Within an hour, my restaurant was padlocked, and the next morning, my face was plastered across every news site, branding me a "Chef's Dream Restaurant a Health Hazard." My 15 years of relentless work were instantly ruined. I stumbled home, desperate for Sarah' s comfort, only to find her on the phone, her back to me, whispering, "It went perfectly, Mark. Better than we could have hoped." My culinary rival, Mark Davies. My heart stopped as she continued, "He completely fell apart. He looked like a kicked puppy." Then the chilling revelation: "The money is safe. I moved the last of it this morning. He never even checked the accounts. He trusted me completely." She had embezzled everything, justifying it as a "mercy killing" for my career. The betrayal was a physical blow. The world tilted, and I fell, hitting my head, the last thing I saw Sarah' s cold annoyance. I woke up in a hospital, two days later, to news that my license was permanently revoked. My life, my name, my future – all gone. They thought I was weak, finished. They had killed Ethan Miller, the chef. But a ghost could do things a living man couldn' t. A plan, desperate and insane, began to form. I reached for the phone, dialing a number I hadn' t called in years. "Chef Dubois," I whispered. "It's Ethan. I need your help. I need to disappear."/1/114461/coverorgin.jpg?v=fe80e8e03514525133ccd428e183706c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Taming My Time-Traveling Lover in My Bed: The Savage King
I bought an antique four-poster bed at Sotheby's, said to be the final resting place of a long-dead European king. A week later, I woke up to the thick smell of blood, only to find a massive, heavily wounded man in my bed holding a forged steel sword to my throat. He was dressed in ruined velvet and gold, bleeding out from a massive abdominal gash. When I tried to save him with modern medicine, he called it sorcery and nearly choked me to death. He destroyed my expensive appliances, treating my home like a witch's lair. I thought he was a lunatic cosplayer who broke in, until he tossed me a massive ruby ring as a down payment for my help. I looked it up online. It was the lost coronation ring of King Cain the Cruel, valued at thirty million dollars. I was terrified of this savage who could snap my neck in an instant. I couldn't comprehend how a tyrant who had been dead for 135 years was breathing in my attic, until he lay back down on the antique mattress and literally vanished into thin air before my eyes. The bed was a time portal. The police would lock him in a psych ward and confiscate the priceless artifact, leaving me with nothing but bloodstained sheets and trauma. "I can give you more wealth than you can imagine." So, when he reappeared and offered me the lost Fabergé eggs of his fallen empire in exchange for modern shelter, I didn't call 911. I took his hand and became the 21st-century gatekeeper for a time-traveling king./0/44221/coverorgin.jpg?v=a13f2ef9797050bcfad769c87477272d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her DARK World
[R18+, mature and sensitive content. A heart-wrenching tale of BEAUTY & the BEAST] In this World of Cruelty, I did something that kept me sane. I went against my family just to protect my sanity. I was a fighter. I was a survivor. But not anymore because this cruel world made me rotten. Now, I'm Cruel. I'm cold Hearted. I'm a Killer because I killed myself. I killed my own happiness. I ruined my own heart. My name is DUA and I'm nineteen years old student of Fashion Designer. And, my world is shattered by only four words. 'YOU ARE UNDER ARREST' Thank you ShineeSunshine ♥️/0/83956/coverorgin.jpg?v=2553fab21e8f1ceae24d03b1e21f18b3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Fiancee's Vengeance
The roar of the Cheyenne crowd was familiar thunder, but on my 100th matchup against Wesley Johns, it felt heavy. I' d beaten him ninety-nine times straight. Just before I entered the chute, my fiancée Bree held my arm, pleading, "Caleb, please... let him have it." I refused, swinging onto the bull, ready for another easy win. My rope snapped. I hit the dirt, my ankle exploding with pain, hearing a crack louder than the crowd. Wesley won. From the ground, I watched Bree run not to me, but straight to him, embracing him victoriously. Their friends cheered, "That new rope worked like a charm!" My blood went cold as Bree presented my dream prize, a custom saddle, to Wesley. "You don't mind, do you, Caleb?" she asked, her voice bright. In a haze of pain and disbelief, I branded the pristine saddle with a searing iron, a scar for her betrayal. Bree screamed, accusing me of cruelty, diverting medics to a scatheless Wesley. Later, packing my bags to leave her ranch and our engagement, I overheard her call, "Marry him? Oh, honey, please. The plan is to invite him to the wedding. He can watch me marry Wesley." She laughed. My hand froze on the doorknob as the pieces clicked: her protection, Wesley's reputation, my humiliation. The old 'W' brand on my chest, burnt by Wesley himself, throbbed. I left without a word, my professional career shattered, my leg broken. Scrolling through a rodeo forum weeks later, a vintage silver belt buckle, identical to my lost father's, caught my eye. It was the prize at a dusty, unsanctioned rodeo. A new purpose ignited within me. I had to ride, even with a cast. My ride was the performance of a lifetime. But before I could claim what was mine, Bree appeared, ready to challenge me again./1/112584/coverorgin.jpg?v=2885028fdf7d5ba4e7ed9f05e8c602bf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Oops, Wrong Uncle! I Married The Real Zillionaire Instead!
The best way to get back at a cheating bastard? Make him sick to his stomach for the rest of his life! Days before her wedding, Corinne caught her fiancé cheating with his coworker in what she thought was their future home. Furious, she tore everything apart, ended the engagement, and decided on a bold revenge plan. To make him regret it for life, she set her sights on marrying his powerful uncle. Confident in her scheme, she tried to win over the cold, untouchable man, only to realize too late that she had mistaken his identity. The man she married was far more dangerous than she imagined! Corinne decided to make a quick escape. "Let's get a divorce. We're clearly not right for each other... " He cornered her with a knowing smile, "Not right for each other? Funny, that's not what you said last night in bed. Want me to remind you how wrong you are?"/1/103198/coverorgin.jpg?v=fc7d796b67f45d3e43baaa2f058a88b4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
