Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Strike Three, You're Out
My six-year-old son, Danny, was vibrant and healthy, until my estranged wife, Sarah, demanded he donate his liver to her ex-lover, a washed-up football star. As a paramedic, I knew the devastating risks, but Sarah, blinded by her obsession with this "hero" figure, forced the surgery through. Soon after, in the pediatric ICU, Danny hemorrhaged and urgently needed blood - O-negative, Sarah's blood type. But Sarah was at the "hero's" lavish "welcome home" party, celebrating, utterly dismissing my frantic calls as "drama." My son died that day, his tiny hand growing cold in mine, while his mother reveled in the reflected glory of a man she idolized. Then came the crushing truth: Sarah had pushed the surgeons for a riskier, expedited procedure, declaring Ace Henderson's life the absolute priority. Still, the final, unforgivable horror was yet to come. At Danny' s treasured Little League field, where I went to scatter his ashes, Sarah and Ace showed up for a live PR stunt. Ace' s nephew, egged on by them, snatched Danny' s baseball urn, spilled his ashes onto the pitcher' s mound, and then stomped on them, gleefully shouting, "Strike three, you' re out!" I was held back, screaming, watching my son's last remains obliterated by the very people he died for, by a mother's monstrous indifference. How could such calculated cruelty be unleashed upon a child's memory, by those who should have protected him? A part of my soul died on that dusty field, leaving only a vast, echoing void. I vanished, abandoning my old life, certain peace was forever beyond my grasp. But a discovery, a fragile legacy left by Danny, might just offer a path through the darkness./0/97519/coverorgin.jpg?v=f4176a8c079c6863544996b991cf7baa&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love Takes Off At Thirty Thousand Feet
Cornered by her benefactor at a lavish party for another woman, Irene was told in no uncertain terms to remain the stand-in and not wish for more. Tired of her pathetic life, she turned to Henry, the brilliant pilot she was engaged to by arrangement. She seized his tie, kissed him, and suggested a quick, convenient marriage. Henry agreed with a quiet smile. What began as a businesslike union took an unexpected turn. After the wedding, Henry's cool restraint melted away, his teasing-whether in private or at thirty thousand feet-left Irene breathless, questioning if love might finally take flight. "Stay by my side. Or I don't mind letting the control tower hear you beg."/1/107844/coverorgin.jpg?v=373fef407ba575864060c53c12b2887b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Acceptable Service: Tipping The Ruthless Billionaire
I woke up in a penthouse suite at the Pierre with a hangover from hell and a naked man who looked like he'd been carved from marble. Thinking he was a high-end escort I couldn't afford, I left my last hundred dollars and a petty note on the nightstand. "Service was acceptable. Keep the change." But when I rushed home to check on my dying father, I found the locks changed and my boyfriend, Chad, draped over my stepsister on the landing. My stepmother, Meredith, didn't even look up from her coffee as she handed me a legal folder. She told me to sign away my inheritance or she'd stop paying for my father's life support. The hospital called seconds later, demanding fifty thousand dollars by the end of the day, or they'd pull the plug. Meredith had already arranged my "payment": a dinner with Boris Gorsky, a predator who collected young women like trophies. I was being sold to a monster to keep my father alive, standing in a thrift-store dress while my family laughed at my ruin. I didn't understand how my life had collapsed in twelve hours, or how my own blood could put a price tag on a man's life. I sat at that restaurant trembling, waiting for the man who would buy my soul. Then the man from the hotel walked in. It wasn't Gorsky; it was August Sanders, the billionaire CEO of a media empire, and he was holding my hundred-dollar bill. He didn't want an apology; he wanted a contract wife for a year. He slid a confirmation for a five-hundred-thousand-dollar hospital deposit across the table and handed me a fountain pen. "Welcome to the firm, Mrs. Sanders." I signed the paper with a shaking hand, knowing I was trading my freedom for my father's life. But as August handed me his black card, I realized I finally had the weapon I needed to destroy the people who thought I was nothing./0/83127/coverorgin.jpg?v=c9656797caac50bc09fb84eedcc96447&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Divorce Papers and a Newborn
I was 39 weeks pregnant, eagerly nesting for our daughter, Emily. Our Austin home was filled with dreams of a perfect new family. My ambitious architect husband, Ethan, traveled constantly for "high-stakes" projects. But I trusted our future. Then, breaking news flashed across the screen: a military coup in South America. On it, his award-winning documentary filmmaker ex-girlfriend, Olivia, was caught in the chaos, presumed in grave danger. That same night, as my first contractions began, Ethan dropped a bombshell. He was flying to South America immediately. Not for business, but for her. He walked out as my water broke. He was choosing his ex over his wife and unborn child. Days later, news of Ethan's critical injury reached me. It unleashed a barrage of demands from his family and friends. They expected me to rescue him, to pay his escalating medical bills. They expected me to be the forgiving "dutiful wife"—despite his shocking betrayal. But the deepest cut came when my lawyer unearthed the truth. For years, Ethan had been secretly siphoning thousands from our joint savings. He was taking from our daughter's future, funneling it to Olivia's 'humanitarian' non-profit. It wasn't just abandonment. It was a cold, systematic betrayal, built on lies. How could he do this to us, to Emily? I refused to follow his family's script. When a critically injured Ethan finally returned, expecting forgiveness and a tearful reunion, I was there. Not as a heartbroken wife. Instead, I was armed with divorce papers and a fierce determination to reclaim every penny he stole. This was my battle, for Emily and for me. It was the beginning of a new life on our own terms./1/105654/coverorgin.jpg?v=80d180e8824307000e4363f307624cfc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No Escape: The Billionaire Won't Sign
I returned to New York with two scuffed suitcases and a broken heart, ready to end my three-year exile as a ghost wife. All I wanted was to sign the divorce papers, move my dying mother to hospice, and vanish from the billionaire Spears family forever. But the moment I stepped into the penthouse, I saw a pair of expensive red-bottomed heels by the door that weren't mine. Carlyle, the husband who hadn't spoken to me in years, was already moving his mistress into our home before the ink on our separation agreement was even dry. The humiliation was only the beginning. Carlyle treated me like an intruder in my own house, yet he forced me to attend high-society galas as his "perfect" wife to protect his reputation. When I tried to leave, he froze my bank accounts, leaving me unable to pay for my mother’s life-saving treatment. He watched my desperation with cold, predatory eyes, flaunting his new romance in the tabloids while keeping me trapped in his freezing home. My mother’s doctors warned me she was running out of time, but Carlyle only used her illness as a leash to keep me from running. I didn't understand why he was doing this to me. I had clearly signed away the money and the name, so why wouldn't he let me go? Why did he have me watched for years if he hated me so much? Why was he flaunting another woman while refusing to sign the papers that would set us both free? What did he want from a woman he claimed to despise? When I finally cornered him with the final decree, Carlyle didn't pick up the pen. He snatched the folder, a flicker of cold triumph in his icy eyes. "The terms are wrong, Beatrix. I'm adding an employment clause. You’re going to work for me, in my office, where I can keep you under my thumb 24/7." He didn't just refuse to sign the papers; he had just turned my divorce into a permanent prison sentence./1/102056/coverorgin.jpg?v=2c19c8de1dddb3eda4182d1bee845be6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Return From Grave: Reclaiming My Betrayed Heart
I returned to Boston after three years, not for forgiveness, but to die. My family, who blamed me for my mother's death, had cast me out, replacing me with a quiet, grateful orphan named Gabriela. She stole my father's love, my brother's affection, and my childhood sweetheart, Corey. Now, terminally ill, my only wish was to reclaim my mother's wedding dress, a final piece of her to hold onto. But Gabriela was wearing it to marry Corey. When I confronted her, she destroyed my mother's locket and cursed me to drop dead. In a blind rage, I slapped her. She shrieked, stabbed her own arm, and framed me for the attack. As my family and Corey looked on with disgust, calling me a maniac, my body gave out. I collapsed, coughing up blood, my secret illness revealed in the most brutal way possible. "You always blame me," I gasped, the words bubbling out with blood. "But I was just... dying." Their faces filled with dawning horror, but it was too late. I was already gone. Until I opened my eyes again, and my mother, who had been waiting for me all along, took my hand. "We'll be reborn," she promised, her eyes blazing with fury at the family who had destroyed me. "Together. As mother and daughter, again."/0/82345/coverorgin.jpg?v=4be47fd7c4878ce7f4088a3b408b50ec&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Their Blinded Betrayal
I was dying of aggressive leukemia, my last chance for life, a revolutionary CAR T-cell therapy, within reach. My own family - my husband, David, and my parents - colluded to steal that life-saving treatment, diverting it to my cousin Jessie, who feigned vague illnesses for attention. Condemned to palliative care, I watched them celebrate Jessie's "recovery" while dismissing my worsening symptoms as "drama" or "negativity." I was forced to sign over everything I' d built-my beloved bakery, my bookstore, my investments-to the very woman who was orchestrating my demise. Adding insult to injury, David asked for a divorce, planning to move Jessie into our home and enthralling my son with her false charm. They called my quiet compliance "sensible," completely blind to the fact that I, sick and betrayed, was merely settling my affairs as a dying woman. How could they be so utterly oblivious, so consumed by a manipulative charade, while their daughter lay dying before their eyes? But their blind betrayal ignited a cold resolve: my surrender was merely the prelude to a posthumous retribution, carefully orchestrated in my final moments through a secret will and damning evidence, now entrusted to a shark lawyer to unleash upon them all./1/115979/coverorgin.jpg?v=d30d9f8611f2d1e36b35adeb6fd09f64&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn To Ruin My Traitorous Ex-Fiancé
Sera was the obedient, spoiled Hollywood socialite of the Beaumont family, completely devoted to her fiancé, Ethan. But her life ended in a freezing Eastern European warehouse, chained to a damp concrete floor. Right before she died, her captors shoved the transfer documents in her face. Ethan had sold her to human traffickers to cover his massive underground gambling debts. While she suffered in absolute hell, her adoptive mother went on national television. She squeezed out fake tears, publicly framing Sera for stealing family funds and eloping with a secret lover. Sera's reputation was completely destroyed, and she was left to die a miserable, agonizing death in the dark. She didn't understand why her family treated her like a disposable piece of trash. She understood even less how the man who promised to marry her could hand her over to monsters without a second thought. When she opened her eyes again, the biting cold and heavy iron chains were gone. She was back five years in the past. She was lying on a hotel bed, her limbs heavy with date-rape drugs, while a predatory Hollywood director hovered inches from her face. It was the exact "exclusive audition" Ethan had arranged to exploit her for the very first time. Sera didn't scream. With lethal, practiced precision, she shattered the director's wrist and brought a heavy crystal ashtray down on his skull. The bleeding man collapsed onto the carpet and whimpered. "Ethan promised... he said you'd be compliant..." Staring at his pathetic face, a cold, predatory smile stretched across Sera's lips. This time, she was going to systematically dismantle their lives./0/81250/coverorgin.jpg?v=108ba4770de83dfe01f8a73441c7dfe5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted Man's Triumph
My wife, Vicky Sterling, delivered the news over breakfast as casually as she' d asked for more coffee: she was pregnant, and the father was Julian Vance, her personal trainer, who was also moving into our penthouse today. I felt the last thread snap. She told me I' d be moving into the guest room, as Julian preferred the master suite. This was just the latest in eight years of humiliation, where I' d gone from architect to trophy husband, then just… Ethan. My family' s firm had been saved by hers, but it cost me everything. When I tried to leave, her contempt was a familiar sting, reminding me I was nothing without her. The final insult came when Julian, a preening narcissist, lunged for my grandfather' s Purple Heart, the only thing of true value I owned, and it shattered. Then, the real torture began: Vicky, concerned only for Julian' s barely scratched nail, forced me to undergo a horrific skin graft, even as my own head bled from hitting a table. Later, Julian framed me for kidnapping myself, and Vicky, believing him, then locked me in a burning cellar. How could the woman I once loved, the one who controlled my entire life, be so utterly cruel, so blind to the monster she embraced? Lying there, choked by smoke, I realized this life was a charade. But then, a glimmer of hope: my old housekeeper, Maria, opened the door, and I heard Olivia' s voice, a promise of freedom in Austin. I was done./0/88759/coverorgin.jpg?v=f49b37cc61695ee2bc4f78868218339f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Echoes of a Broken Vow
Kathleen was diagnosed with liver cancer and needed a transplant. To her shock, she discovered that her husband of five years, Joshua, not only intended to give the liver to someone else but also had a mistress and an illegitimate child outside their marriage. Upon learning the truth, Kathleen was utterly heartbroken. She realized that she couldn't hold onto a man who had betrayed her, but she was determined to reclaim the liver that she had been promised as a donor match. Kathleen dialed a number she hadn't contacted in five years. "I'm going to Jaxperton for surgery. Come pick me up in three days." But after she left, Joshua was driven to desperation./0/93765/coverorgin.jpg?v=5206e207efee1382b328280d923d754f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Stolen Melody, A Love Betrayed
My fiancé, Jake, and my sister, Brittany, stole the song I had poured my soul into for three years. It was my masterpiece, the one that was supposed to define our careers together. I heard their entire plan through the half-open door of the recording studio. "It' s the only way you' ll win the Vanguard Award, Brit," Jake insisted. "This is your one shot." My own family was in on it. "She' s the talent, I know, but she can' t handle the pressure," Brittany said, quoting our parents. "It' s better this way, for the family." They saw me as an engine, a tool, not a daughter or the woman Jake was supposed to marry in three months. The truth was a slow, freezing poison. The man I loved, the family who raised me-they had been feeding on my talent since the day I was born. And the baby I was carrying? It wasn't a symbol of our future; it was just the final lock on the cage they'd built around me. Later, Jake found me trembling on our apartment floor, feigning concern. He pulled me into an embrace, murmuring into my hair, "We have so much to look forward to. We have to think about the baby." That's when I knew exactly what I had to do. The next day, I made a call. As Jake listened in on another line, his voice cracking with a panic that was finally real, I calmly spoke into the phone. "Yes, hello. I' d like to confirm my appointment for tomorrow." "The one for the… procedure."/0/61539/coverorgin.jpg?v=7675cf3f7ee723c6d32bda7cb4ddcfca&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Deceived into Acting in Mini-series
Here's the translation: "I’m on vacation and I’m planning to find a summer job. Aunt Kyla said that serving plates is too hard, so she introduced me to a job as a stunt double for a short play. I didn’t think much and went straight there, but the location turned out to be a hotel. They said they were going to film a scene where the female lead gets choked to death. When I saw that the room was full of men, I got scared and wanted to run away. But they grabbed me by the neck and pinned me down on the bed: 'What are you pretending to be a virtuous woman for? I already gave Aunt Kyla 5,000 yuan for you. You think you can escape?! Dream on!' I struggled desperately, but in the end, they tore my clothes and made me wear strange outfits, and I suffocated to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Aunt Kyla introduced me to the job. Ha, such a good job is better left for your own daughter to do!"/1/101587/coverorgin.jpg?v=0a1238ca0da9828d71481c084f7dd863&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Girl He Called Practice
I turned down a full scholarship to Stanford to follow my boyfriend of ten years to Columbia. I thought my sacrifice was an act of love, until I heard him laughing with his best friend in the kitchen. He was speaking French, confident that his "simple" girlfriend couldn't understand a word. "Elle était juste une pratique," he sneered. "She was just practice. A training session. That' s all." My blood ran cold. He went on to explain that I was just a "safety net" to keep his bed warm while he pursued his real target, a famous model named Bella. He claimed I was pathetic, loyal, and would never leave him. The irony? I had spent years secretly mastering French to impress his grandmother. I understood every single insult. I didn't confront him. I didn't make a scene. I simply walked into the bedroom, withdrew my application from Columbia, and accepted the offer from Stanford. By the time he realized his "safety net" was gone, I was already across the country, and he was blocked on everything./1/106593/coverorgin.jpg?v=1a12edcaa0bd51bd81fda0c1d3c289ee&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn Heiress Marries My Ex-Fiancé's Brother
Tonight was supposed to be the night I became the happiest woman in D.C., celebrating my engagement at the legendary Bolton Manor gala. I wore emerald silk and a diamond that cost more than most mansions, convinced that Hank Bolton was my soulmate and the key to my family's future. But behind the heavy oak doors of the guest wing, the dream died. I found my fiancé tangled with another woman, laughing about how I was nothing more than a "clueless cash cow" whose inheritance would fund his run for the Senate. In my first life, I reacted with tears and screams, which only allowed his family to paint me as an unstable lunatic. They stripped me of my dignity, bankrupted the Adams estate, and watched coldly as my brother, Lucas, died in a ditch trying to save me. I ended up gasping for air in a burning building, realizing too late that my perfect engagement was actually my execution. I died in the soot and the shadows, feeling the searing heat of a betrayal that burned worse than the fire. I lost everything because I was too blind to see the monsters hiding behind expensive smiles. But then, I suddenly gasped for air and realized the smoke was gone. I was standing in front of a vanity, the calendar mocking me: October 14th. The night of the gala. I had been given a second chance, and this time, I wasn't going to be the victim. I recorded the betrayal on my phone and walked into the library with a heart made of ice. I didn't just blow up the engagement; I demanded a new groom—Hank’s "invalid" older brother, Dereck, a man the world had written off as a dying recluse. "I'll take him," I told the stunned family. I wanted a husband who couldn't cheat, a puppet who would leave me a wealthy widow within a year. I thought I was choosing a safe, broken man to shield me from my enemies. I didn't know that under his blanket, Dereck was hiding a holster, or that the "dying" man was actually a predator who had been waiting for someone exactly like me to walk into his trap./0/84379/coverorgin.jpg?v=4c27bdc88ec6225df16c449c3445a9c9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Duchess's Advocate: Reborn For Justice
The acrid smell of antiseptic and fear hit me first, a phantom scent from a life I' d already lost. I was back, standing under the buzzing fluorescent lights of the 24/7 animal emergency hospital, on the same exhaustion-laden shift I' d worked before. My phone buzzed with a text from Molly, my best friend: "Thanks again for covering, Gabs! You' re a lifesaver. Brian and I owe you one!" Brian. My husband. Molly. My best friend. The names twisted in my gut, bringing back the crushing weight of their betrayal, the public shame, the cold click of a bathroom door. I remembered the screaming, the accusations, and Duchess, the champion show dog, lifeless in her kennel. I remembered Brian' s cold eyes, Molly' s fake concern, and the news of their luxury car business, bought with my life insurance money. They didn' t just ruin my life; they murdered it. But they failed. I was back, at the exact moment my universe began to unravel. This time, I wasn' t the broken woman who ended it all. My name is Gabrielle Fuller, and this time, things would be different./1/115510/coverorgin.jpg?v=5dec661a4921cc2ae7836189a2418ad9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Escaping The Billionaire's Deadly Surrogate Trap
Blaire woke up in a Manhattan penthouse, her body covered in bruises and her innocence stolen. Before she could process the terror, her adoptive sister Danita burst in, acting heartbroken and accusing Blaire of shamelessly seducing the powerful Kamryn Lane. Kamryn threw a one-million-dollar check at Blaire's bleeding face, calling her a calculating gold digger. That night, Blaire overheard a conversation in the family study that shattered her entire reality. "Once she gives birth to the Lane family's seed, we'll stage an accident, drain her blood, and transplant her healthy heart into your chest." Her adoptive mother and Danita were celebrating the success of their trap. She wasn't an adopted daughter; she was a living organ bank and a disposable surrogate. Even her adoptive brother, Calhoun, knew everything, trapping her in the dark hallways with a sick, possessive obsession to ensure she never escaped. The horrific truth suffocated her. The family that had taken her in had raised her like livestock for slaughter. How could they smile at her every day while planning to carve out her heart? Terrified but burning with a desperate will to survive, Blaire swallowed a Plan B pill to ruin their surrogate plot and fled the estate. To get the money and power she needed to crush her adoptive family, she pulled out Kamryn Lane's business card. This time, she would make a deal with the devil./0/83284/coverorgin.jpg?v=d48bdb10bfda56afbbc788cf8f5f3bf0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No More Sacrifices
The smell of cheap hotdogs and burnt sugar hung heavy in the air. I stood there, watching Jake Henderson, the town's golden boy, showing off on the old wooden tower. Just like before, he was about to fall. Last time, I sacrificed everything. I became his human shield, shattering my hand, losing my art scholarship, and condemning myself to a lifetime of his manipulation and infidelity. He married me out of supposed obligation, then poisoned our children against me, constantly whispering how I' d supposedly stolen his chance with Tiffany, his 'white moonlight' who' d effortlessly claimed my future. I died alone, full of agonizing regret in a sterile room, my dreams turned to ash. But now, I was back. Frozen at the exact same moment, watching him teeter. A cold, unwavering resolve washed over me. No. More. Sacrifices. This time, I wouldn't move an inch. Let him fall. This was my chance to shatter the chains of the past, reclaim my stolen future, and finally build a life free from Jake./0/48555/coverorgin.jpg?v=79ef1afb9fea335565c4923e420d958b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A LEGAL REVENGE: THE LAW DOESN'T KNOW LOVE
In this gripping tale of justice and revenge, Dagogo, fueled by the tragic death of his father during the #ENDSARS protests in Naija, takes on his government in the International Court of Justice. However, his quest for justice is marred by mysterious deaths of potential witnesses. Battling personal demons, including a complicated sexual relationship with Amanda, a lawyer from a royal family, and a relentless serial killer named Judas the Psychopath, Dagogo's struggle intensifies. As he becomes the face of renewed protests, his daughter's kidnapping forces him to make a difficult choice. Just when victory seems elusive, an unexpected turn of events propels Dagogo onto the global stage, leading to a shocking revelation about his father and a clandestine government organization. A rollercoaster of suspense and intrigue, this story unfolds in a thrilling journey towards justice and the unveiling of long-buried secrets./1/118639/coverorgin.jpg?v=c0a8286fe52d38c1f3a1666b8ed8cc6a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
How To Tame A Wildhearted Boxer?
Returning to her hometown for a blind date, Verena expected stability, not Asher-a rugged boxing coach who seemed far too confident for his own good. When asked why a guy with his credentials chose a blind date, he said he was just picky about women. Her take? Too shallow. Definitely not someone she could rely on. Convinced he was unreliable, she kept her distance. Yet the man appeared everywhere, filling her days with teasing remarks and suspiciously timed encounters. Verena assumed it was simple flirtation, never realizing he had spent years quietly waiting for her. Then one day, the tables turned. When she pinned him down and challenged him, the usually cheeky man turned red. "I'm a decent guy," he insisted, while she struggled not to laugh at his unexpected innocence./1/101431/coverorgin.jpg?v=85f3f1e8a02a90a42fe70602f00cd059&imageMogr2/format/webp)
