Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Too Late For Regret: The Neglected Wife
My car broke down in a torrential downpour, so I called my husband of seven years for help. He hung up on me. But minutes later, his childhood sweetheart, Alona, pulled up, slapped herself in the face, and called his private line crying that I had attacked her. Dominic arrived in his Bentley almost immediately. He didn't even look at my shivering, soaked body. Instead, he wrapped his jacket around Alona, tossed a corporate card at me to call a cab, and drove away. Through the car window, I saw our six-year-old son glaring at me. "Mom, stop making a scene! Auntie Alona is not feeling well." Later that night at the family dinner, his brother intentionally drove through a puddle to drench me in mud, and his mother forced me to wear a maid's uniform to the table. The family matriarch then ordered me to kneel on the cold marble floor, demanding I produce a second heir. For seven years, I thought my devotion could warm his cold heart. I didn't know everyone in his circle mocked me for trapping him with a pregnancy, or that I was just a convenient shield to protect his true love from his ruthless grandmother. I didn't cry, and I didn't argue. I simply stood up from the cold floor and sent him a text message. "Dominic, let's get a divorce." The next morning, I blocked every number in the Reeves family and called my lawyer./0/81879/coverorgin.jpg?v=274aad74c7b0d1e4bf6d26e8e150fccc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Ohio Betrayal: A Legacy Undone
Our life in suburban Ohio looked perfect on the outside, a picture-perfect marriage that lasted five years. But inside, I was suffocating, especially after losing our first baby. When I finally got pregnant again, I believed hope was blooming. Then I found my husband had bought baby supplies. They weren't for us. They were for his pregnant mistress, Bree. He claimed she could give him the "heir" I couldn't. He coldly stated it was "practical," about "legacy," accusing me of being a "faulty machine." When I confronted them, his thuggish security shove, leading to another devastating miscarriage. He shockingly called it "faking it." Then, to punish me for wanting a divorce, he methodically shredded my grandmother's cherished quilt. It was the only solace I had left. My spirit was hollowed out. I was left with nothing but the brutal memory of his words and actions. How could someone claim to love you, then orchestrate such a calculated demise of your every hope and dream? Then, a phone call from a fertility clinic, a call he received, made him believe I was still carrying his precious heir. He came back, oozing fake repentance, painting a perfect future. But the cold D&C report I held in my hand was the real legacy I had for him. It was a testament to the life he' d destroyed. This signaled the true turning point of our story./1/107835/coverorgin.jpg?v=01bd40d2404827780433eeb6fe4e04d8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Fiancé Married Me To His Brother
To the world, I was Delia Fitzgerald, the spoiled, vacuous daughter of the South's wealthiest family. But behind the practiced pout and expensive stilettos, I was a sleeper agent, a shadow trained for war. The mask cracked the night my fiancé, Ansel Gibson, dumped me in the rain. He didn't just break the engagement; he recoiled in physical disgust, claiming that the very sight of me made him physically ill. When I returned home, I expected my father to be furious about the failed business merger. Instead, I found him paralyzed by a primal terror I had never seen. It wasn't about the money; it was about a "blood debt" and a mysterious parchment that held our family's lives in the balance. "You will go to the Gibsons and beg for forgiveness," my father rasped, his hands shaking uncontrollably. "If this contract is broken, there will be blood." My own brothers, men who usually ruled the city, could only watch in grim silence. I realized then that I wasn't a daughter to them-I was currency, a lamb being led to the slaughter to pay for a secret I didn't even know existed. I didn't understand why the Gibsons were so obsessed with me, or why Killian Gibson-the family's true monster-was suddenly tracking my every move with a predatory smile. He traced the callouses on my hands, marks from thousands of rounds of gunfire that no debutante should have, and whispered that he wanted me where he could see me. If they wanted a pawn, they picked the wrong girl. I decided to stop running and walked straight into the lion's den, accepting a job as Killian's "Chief Special Assistant." I was going to find that parchment and tear their world apart from the inside. The game had officially begun, and this time, the "Baby Girl" was the one holding the knife./0/65657/coverorgin.jpg?v=a67bc535b094b4e4c8d1e8c35ba53ae2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Never Looking Back: The Heart Wants What It Wants
Everyone thought Lorenzo truly loved Gracie, until the day of their daughter’s heart surgery. To Gracie’s utter shock, Lorenzo gave the precious organ needed by their child to another woman. Devastated, Gracie opted for a divorce. Fueled by her need for revenge, Gracie joined hands with Lorenzo’s uncle, Waylon, and orchestrated Lorenzo’s downfall. In the end, Lorenzo was left with nothing and consumed by remorse. He pleaded for a reconciliation. Gracie thought she was free to move on with her life, but Waylon held her back in a death grip. “Did you think you can just walk out on me?”/0/85773/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106210706&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Blaze of Betrayal, Rebirth of Love
The lingering smell of lilies and expensive cologne wasn't what I expected on my wedding day, not after the reek of gasoline and burning flesh that had been my last memory. My thirty-year marriage to Olivia ended in a blaze, not of passion, but of pure, unadulterated hatred, as she and our son watched me burn alive in my hospital bed. "Alex and I could have lived happily ever after!" Olivia shrieked, her face a mask of venom. "James isn' t your son. You were just the pathetic fool who paid for everything!" Then she dropped the lighter. The world erupted in agony, a searing pain consuming every nerve. Why? That was my last thought as I watched them walk away, their silhouettes framed by the flames devouring me. Then a violent jolt. The pain was gone. I was standing, healthy, in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, staring at my thirty-years-younger self in a gilded mirror. It was my wedding night. I was alive, I was young, and I was back at the very beginning of the nightmare. Olivia' s frantic voice pierced the air, "Alex, no! Don' t do this!" Alex Peterson – her childhood sweetheart, the name now echoing with the fresh horror of her final confession. When she saw me, her face contorted. "This is your fault! If you hadn' t forced this wedding, he wouldn' t be threatening to jump from a cliff!" Mr. Sterling, the man I had revered my entire life, urged me to proceed. "You are the future of this company." His words once meant everything, now they felt hollow, part of a gilded cage. SLAP! Her hand across my face, "You' re nothing. Just the charity case my father pitied." I remembered it all: the thirty years of misery, her crushing remarks, her coldness, the son who looked at me with a stranger' s eyes. I had poured my life into his company, paid my debt with my work, my love, and finally, my death. Never again. The organ music began. I stood at the altar, looked at Olivia, then at Mr. Sterling. I thought of the fire, the betrayal. My voice clear and steady, ringing through the silent church, I said, "No."/0/91938/coverorgin.jpg?v=0ccce299e588e4412641dbdc7fee3822&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Babysitting Andrea
Babysitting Andrea" is a novel that explores themes of love, relationships, and the complexities that come with them. The story revolves around Andrea and her interactions with various characters, including Dylan and Claribel, as they navigate their emotions and relationships.. Overall, "Babysitting Andrea" is a thought-provoking novel that delves into the complexities of human emotions and relationships./1/117894/coverorgin.jpg?v=d414ab1bed1af0f357cdc5673f8ac33d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Rising From Ashes: The Divorced Heiress
When Seraphina handed the divorce papers to her billionaire husband, she just wanted to end their suffocating marriage. Instead of signing, Julian burned the documents in the fireplace and declared her his eternal prisoner. "You will live in this house and be reminded every single day of the sister you took from me." He firmly believed she had murdered her sister, Isabelle—the only woman he ever truly loved. Driven to absolute despair, Seraphina falsely confessed to the crime just to force him to let her go. But Julian used her broken words to completely destroy her. He threw her out of the estate into the freezing rain, where she was struck by a speeding car. While she lay in the hospital with broken bones, her own family disowned her for ruining their business ties. Then, the police arrived to arrest her for Isabelle's murder, a final deadly trap orchestrated by Julian himself. She had lost her dignity, her family, and nearly her freedom, tortured by a man who only saw a ghost when he looked at her face. Why did she have to bear the weight of a crime she didn't commit, stripped of everything she ever had? Saved from prison by a friend's legal team, Seraphina left the city with nothing but her shattered pride. Four years later, she stepped out of the airport with her two children, no longer the fragile victim they broke. This time, she was back./1/105565/coverorgin.jpg?v=26957d8d1df4d787c2990d6ebf3411eb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn Surgeon: The Billionaire’s Secret Obsession
Standing on the edge of a limestone quarry in the pouring rain, I thought we were just having another family argument. Then my mother, Ardell, screamed that I’d let the life insurance lapse, and my brother, Hakeem, stepped out of the shadows with a cold, calculating look in his eyes. I told them I knew the truth—that Hakeem had cut the brake lines on my father’s car—but they didn't flinch. Instead, Hakeem shoved me hard, sending me tumbling into the abyss. I hit a jagged ledge thirty feet down, the sound of my spine snapping like a dry branch echoing through the rain. As I lay paralyzed and broken, my mother watched from above, asking if I was dead yet, before Hakeem whistled for the starving wild dogs that lived in the quarry floor. "Nature will clean up the mess," Hakeem said, walking away while the first set of teeth sank into my throat. The agony was a tidal wave, but the rage was hotter, a nuclear hatred for the family that stole my future and the daughter I’d never see grow up. I died in that dirt, consumed by fire and teeth, wondering how a mother could choose a car payment over her own child's life. But then, I gasped for air, sitting bolt upright in my old trailer bedroom. I looked at the calendar: May 12, 2014. I was seventeen again, but I wasn't the same girl. Inside this malnourished body was the mind of a world-class trauma surgeon and the elite hacker known as 'Phantom.' This time, I wasn't going to the quarry; I was going for their throats./1/106214/coverorgin.jpg?v=0b1aac86e39d8e5fd7ced44118405277&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Husband Killed Our Unborn Baby to Save his Beloved Woman
Three years after Theo Hayes and I got married, I finally conceived his baby. Yet, around Valentine's Day, he personally performed an abortion on me. With reddened eyes, he told me that my heart couldn't withstand the burden of pregnancy. I was consumed with guilt and felt my body was not good enough and disappointed in Theo's deep love for me. Behind a curtain, Theo was washing the blood from his hands. "Theo, actually, if Dolores's current health is meticulously nurtured, there's a chance she could give birth to the baby. Why did you insist on..." "I need the umbilical cord blood," Theo said coldly. "Teresa's condition requires a stem cell transplant from newborn umbilical cord blood. Dolores's child is the best source, but a full-term delivery is too slow. Teresa can't wait so long. So... I expedited the fetus's growth and induced labor at five months. Although the baby won't survive, the cord blood can be used. Dolores wasn't going to live long anyway. It will be her final contribution to the Powell family that we used her baby to save Teresa. Don't let Dolores know I expedited the fetus and induced it. Just tell her it was a stillbirth." Dolores closed her eyes in despair, and tears streamed uncontrollably. Her husband, Theo, killed their baby and even drained the last value from it. He just used the baby's umbilical cord blood to save Soren Powell, my half-sister./0/85774/coverorgin.jpg?v=cbb66e803b558558ebc14044511d84b5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Obsession, Her Freedom
Three years of marriage, three years of silent fury with Blake Harrison. Then, a nightmare: kidnapped, tortured, and brutally murdered by thugs. But instead of the afterlife, I woke up to my own funeral party, where my loving husband was celebrating his freedom with my sister, Amelia, accusing me of faking my own death. My family, the Millers, the very people who had once claimed to love me, stood by, silent witnesses to my humiliation, only to later join Blake in discrediting me, sending me to a mental institution. It broke me, but in that shattering, a new strength forged; I embraced my "death," watching my essence vanish in a golden glow, ready to finally be free. Three years later, I returned, a princess with no memory, only to be dragged back into his twisted obsession, discovering he had preserved my supposed corpse and turned my suffering into a perverse play. He confessed his sick love, his manipulations, even admitting he' d let me be tortured to "test" my affection. I tried to fight, to turn his own dagger against him, but he only reveled in the pain, until General Alex Vance, a man connected to my forgotten past, burst in and rescued me. Now, between Blake's renewed tyranny and Alex's baffling devotion, I'm finding pieces of a life I never knew, a history of longing and betrayal that demands to be explored and avenged./1/134117/coverorgin.jpg?v=6d7ddb22134c925ff2abd885ec7d7c5f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late, Mr. Potts: You Lost Us Forever
As a kept woman—a trophy wife—I had reached the height every woman supposedly desired: married to a billionaire and pregnant with his child. That was until his first love returned. My husband brought her child home and ordered me to get an abortion the next morning. "A newborn will take your attention away and ruin Jaxon's adjustment," he said in a businesslike tone, casually handing me a twenty-million-dollar compensation agreement and the deed to a Manhattan penthouse. He expected me to quietly dispose of my own flesh and blood. I glanced down at the appointment slip, then looked up and said, "Okay." He froze, waiting for me to cry, to beg. I refused. The day I married into the Potts family, I understood the rule: a trophy wife only cares about money, not love. He makes an offer, I comply. Tears aren't in the contract. Soon after, he paraded his first love around our home, playing the flawless family man while treating me like a disposable ghost. He truly believed I was just a spineless, decorative wife who would willingly butcher her own child to satisfy his twisted savior complex. I watched him reserve all his tenderness for that mother and son, not even bothering to pretend anymore. I didn't want to stay in this house for another second. I handed him a forged abortion record, took the money, signed the divorce papers, and flew to Boston to attend Harvard Law School and gave birth to my daughter there alone. He thought he was dealing with a nuisance, completely unaware that from the abortion slip to the divorce agreement, every single step was a trap I had set for him./1/117895/coverorgin.jpg?v=58fc687f8b7065a93d8f635c50927a76&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Runaway Bride And The Disabled Billionaire
I was the illegitimate daughter of the Kirk family, treated like a disposable pawn and forced into an engagement with the abusive Cory Travis. At a high-society gala, my half-sister orchestrated a trap, hiring a man to drug my champagne and drag me to Cory's suite, where a hidden camera waited to record my total ruin. I managed to switch the glasses and fight my way out, but the retaliation from my family was brutal. When my father found out I humiliated the Travis heir, he slapped me across the face and locked me in my bedroom. "Then I will break your legs, and I will have you carried to the altar." He froze all my bank accounts, leaving me with absolutely nothing. I tied my bedsheets together and escaped into the night, only to be hunted down by Cory's men and cornered in a pitch-black garage. I pressed my back against the cold brick wall, suffocating under the injustice of it all. Why did my own blood want to destroy me so badly? How could I possibly survive against two powerful dynasties? Just as Cory lunged to tear off my clothes, a sleek black Bentley pulled up, and a man in an impeccably tailored suit stepped out to retrieve me. The man waiting inside the car was Grant Carlisle, a ruthless, legendary billionaire confined to a wheelchair. He didn't save me out of pity; he knew I was a neurosurgery prodigy, and he needed me to fix his crushed legs. Realizing this was my only chance at survival, I looked at the devil in the wheelchair and proposed a deal that would make my family regret the day I was born./1/105566/coverorgin.jpg?v=967977487992e234fca9cb41eb5302c1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn Queen: The Billionaire's Dangerous Asset
I died as the "Queen," an elite assassin who leveled criminal syndicates, only to wake up in a damp trailer smelling of rot and stale tobacco. My new body belonged to Arleen Brewer, a malnourished teenager with a failing heart and a life defined by systemic poverty. A flickering blue light in my mind identified itself as a System, offering a devil's bargain: survive this life, and I could resurrect my dead brother, Dusty. To earn his return, I had to endure my alcoholic stepfather’s rage and a body so weak it struggled to even stand. At my elite prep school, the rich kids treated me like a walking corpse, covering my desk in trash and mocking my heart condition. Even my fiancé, Shen Wenyu, publicly branded me as "unstable" and stood by while the school's golden boy tried to humiliate me. They expected me to wither away, but they didn't realize a wolf was now wearing the sheep's skin. I shattered the bully’s nose with a metal tray and tore up my engagement contract in front of a stunned auditorium, only to be met with immediate threats of lawsuits and expulsion. I didn't understand how the original Arleen survived this suffocating injustice without breaking, but as the Queen, I was ready to turn this school into a war zone. Then Hale Clemons, the most dangerous man in the city, cornered me outside the principal's office. He saw through my mask, realizing his very presence was the only thing keeping my failing heart from stopping. "I’m not buying your loyalty," he said, handing me a gold-embossed card. "I’m investing in a weapon." I took the deal, ready to use his power to bring my brother back and bury everyone who ever looked down on Arleen Brewer./1/113353/coverorgin.jpg?v=96e6802ae444cce78c3c1eaab3ad747a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Fake Heiress Cancels Her Engagement
I woke up in a luxurious private medical room, only to be hit with a crushing realization. I had transmigrated into a novel as the fake heiress of the McConnell family, destined to be the ultimate villain. In the original plot, I viciously bullied the real daughter who grew up in a trailer park, and tortured my adopted brother by using him as a living blood bank. When the truth came out, my fiancé abandoned me, my family threw me away, and the brother I tormented eventually left me to bleed to death in a dark alley. Right now, the timeline had just reached the deadly turning point. The real heiress had been brought home, wearing faded rags and mercilessly mocked by our relatives. My vicious cousin had secretly handed me corrosive acid disguised as expensive skincare, hoping I would melt my own face off. Worse, an anonymously leaked audio of me admitting my fake identity had just gone viral, causing a massive corporate scandal. My elite fiancé immediately marched into the penthouse with his lawyers, throwing the cancellation documents on the glass table. "The Vance family does not merge assets with a fraud. We don't marry fake bloodlines." Everyone waited for me to break down, beg, and viciously attack the real daughter like a hysterical thief clinging to a stolen life. They thought I would willingly walk right back into my predetermined, gruesome death. Instead, I calmly pulled off the five-carat diamond ring, dropped it on the table, and turned to expose the cousin's trap to protect the real heiress. This time, I am rewriting the script./0/82855/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106201233&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Framed No More: My Vengeful Rebirth
I was at that awful class reunion, the air thick with fake smiles and bitter memories. Jessica' s sneering laughter echoed in my ears, and then, a crushing pain in my chest. Darkness. I was dead. Not a peaceful passing, but a final, bitter end to a life they' d stolen. Mike Johnson, my childhood friend, and his toxic girlfriend, Jessica Smith, had meticulously orchestrated my downfall years ago. They framed me for hacking, shattered my dreams of a Stanford scholarship, and left me with dead-end jobs and a broken spirit. My death at that reunion was just the cruel crescendo of their lifelong amusement at my expense. The injustice burned hotter than any physical pain. Why did I have to suffer for their venomous games? Why was my future stolen, and they got away scot-free? The sheer, unfair waste of it all. Then, sunlight streamed through my bedroom window. My old room, exactly as it was before everything went wrong. My hands, seventeen again. I wasn't just back in time, I was back, a second chance. But a chilling notification on my phone confirmed my worst fear. "Did you see it? Mike and Jessica at the game last night!" They were back too. And they remembered. They thought they had a cheat code to life. They were wrong. This time, I was ready./1/134118/coverorgin.jpg?v=9bad7ac8df392eefbf3998684ae591c8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late, Ex-Fiancé: The Secret Heiress Shines
I stood in the biting November wind for twenty minutes just to deliver a coat to my fiancé, Ethan. But when I entered the private club suite, I found a wealthy socialite sitting in his lap. He hadn't forgotten his coat. She had used his phone to summon me, just to mock my plain clothes and make me the punchline of their cruel joke. Ethan didn't defend me. Instead, he publicly denied our engagement in front of the city's elite, threw some cash on the table, and told me to get out. When I fled home and begged my father to call off the wedding, he furiously refused. "It is your duty to this family!" He roared the words, reminding me that this marriage was my lifelong penance for the car accident that killed Ethan's mother years ago. My stepmother just watched, fully aware that my father was using my trauma to secure his business deals with the Sterlings. I was suffocating under the crushing weight of a sin I didn't commit. Why did my entire existence have to be a transaction? Why was I forced to endure endless humiliation for a tragedy that wasn't even my fault? I had spent years being their obedient, silent victim, letting them drain the life out of me. But the next morning, when Julian Carlisle—the city's most notorious and untouchable billionaire who had unexpectedly defended me at the club—walked into my bakery, everything shifted. I looked right into his dark, intimidating eyes and smiled. This time, I was going to use the devil himself to break my cage./0/84153/coverorgin.jpg?v=e2e2c42c3897fcadbf9ca673c1e0d355&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Heiress They Stole
The Thanksgiving call from my adoptive mother was laced with a forced cheerfulness that immediately put me on guard. Maria and Anthony never just wanted me home; it was always a preamble to a demand, a lecture, or a guilt trip. This time, it was worse. I arrived to find our small, worn-out house packed with church members, their eyes filled with pious expectation. My adoptive parents, Maria and Anthony, proudly presented a newborn baby, Caleb, demanding I shoulder his entire upbringing and hand over my paramedic salary as my "Christian duty." My refusal unleashed a nightmare. They disowned me, threw out my belongings, and publicly shamed me at my workplace, jeopardizing my hard-earned career. But the lowest blow came when they tried to marry me off to my violent cousin, Rufus, hoping to gain legal control over my life and income. When Rufus used a spare key to break into my apartment, trying to force himself on me, my boyfriend Ethan saved me. Yet, at the police station, my adoptive parents' theatrics and lies allowed them to walk free, while I was left reeling from their venomous threat: a civil lawsuit for "elder abandonment" and demanding every penny I had. How could these people, who claimed to be my family, relentlessly try to destroy me, all in the name of God? Was there no end to their depravity, no escape from their manipulative grasp? But as their twisted words echoed in my mind, a forgotten memory-a snatch of a phrase about a "fire"-ignited a terrifying new question./1/116598/coverorgin.jpg?v=1c8d8bcd242d65a4c079c7ddfad94282&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Bound To The Ruthless Billionaire Proxy
Elsie stood completely alone in the pouring rain at her father's freshly dug grave. Before she could even mourn, a black SUV pulled up, and Roland Cantu shoved a marriage contract into her hands. He claimed her father had embezzled three billion dollars from the Carlisle group, leaving her with a massive debt. "Sign the marriage contract, and the debt is forgiven." When Elsie refused to marry a dying man, Roland threatened to instantly cut off her mother's life support and her own vital heart medication. Forced to sign, she was dragged to the Carlisle fortress, stripped of her clothes, scrubbed with harsh chemicals, and locked in a glass medical cage. Inside, she was guarded by Axel Stone, a ruthless proxy who treated her like a corporate assassin. When Elsie simply tried to give her dying husband a sip of water, Axel slapped the cup away and accused her of poisoning it. "Get on your knees and drink it." He violently forced her head toward the puddle on the cold floor, triggering a massive, near-fatal cardiac event. Even after she survived and proved her innocence, Axel still ordered her only warm meal thrown into the garbage disposal. Elsie didn't understand why her father was framed, or why she was trapped in this paranoid nightmare with a sadistic madman. But as she stared at the empty kitchen counter, her fear finally turned into burning anger. Since they desperately needed her alive to produce an heir and secure their trust fund, she would use their own leverage against them. She was going to demand a child through IVF, survive this prison, and tear this twisted family apart to clear her father's name./1/113678/coverorgin.jpg?v=399f3c6e8fa2777365b4b9323b58feb5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Fake Marriage Ruined, She Married The Tycoon
Five years of a fake marriage to a billionaire. Christi thought she was a wealthy wife-until City Hall told her the truth. No marriage license. No legal rights. Nothing but a lie. Her husband cheated on her for four years. His entire family mocked her, used her, and planned to trap her with a baby. She was ready to ruin them all. Then a secret changed everything: Her late parents were DARPA elites. She is the sole heir to $50 billion. There's only one catch-marry Cornelius Gregory, Wall Street's ruthless paralyzed tycoon. She signs the contract in an instant. Freeze their accounts. Destroy the Rivera family. The game is over for them. And the queen has just arrived./1/110758/coverorgin.jpg?v=c128a2dec193a8872660edd847f56cd0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
