icon 0
icon TOP UP
rightIcon
icon Reading History
rightIcon
icon Sign out
rightIcon
icon Get the APP
rightIcon
closeIcon

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Five Years Old, Billionaire Bound

Five Years Old, Billionaire Bound

I was five years old when my dad traded me to a dying billionaire. He called me his lucky charm, a living prophecy, and in return, I got a mansion, a trust fund, and a fancy title: "Madam Chair" of a multi-billion-dollar foundation. I grew up navigating the opulent halls, an outsider in a gilded cage. My only real connection was with Ms. Chadwick, the formidable chief of staff, and the quiet, observant Wesley. But my twisted stepsister, Jennifer, refused to let my past stay in the past. She, along with my opportunistic father, saw my position as their ticket into the Blakely empire. They relentlessly schemed, first trying to marry Jennifer off to the heir, Caleb, then, when that failed, she orchestrated a horrifying corporate sabotage. She framed Caleb, leading to scandalous accusations and the collapse of a crucial merger. Then came the news: Caleb's fiancée, Victoria, was dead, killed in a suspicious car accident. I knew in my gut Jennifer was behind it, her ruthlessness finally escalating to murder. The Blakelys were in chaos, desperate to cover up the scandal, so they gave Jennifer a high-profile role, silencing her with money and status. They bought her silence, but they ignited my fury. This wasn't just about family feuds anymore; it was about justice and survival. I, the quiet girl dismissed as a symbolic chairwoman, decided to wield the foundation's immense power like a sword. It was time to expose every lie, every betrayal, and tear down the very people who thought they could control my destiny.
His Little Mistress

His Little Mistress

In a chaotic world where predictability was far-fetched, the bullet of one man had killed thousands. I stared into his eyes, his facade giving nothing away, but darkness whirled in his eyes as they could pierce right into my soul. Damon Antonio, a mysterious man who sought no other woman except me, an ordinary orphan with a traumatic past, when my scars were visible and invisible. It was unclear why it was me he wanted, but his dark eyes gave nothing away. Having been sold by my uncle, to a man that held so much authority, I had to do whatever he told me to do. I had to follow his principles, I had to submit to him. I was terrified of him, being that he was so unpredictable. It turned out that Damon Antonio had bought me in order to marry me. I wanted to scream, to say no, but his presence alone choked all the words in my throat. I was just a weakling to a man who dealt with his enemies like they were nothing but animals. Drug dealing was his major, his wealth was extreme, and he owned clubs in states and countries. I turned out to be the wife of one of the most dangerous men in the world. And he had only one target, his brother. After his brother had killed their parents, Damon sought nothing but revenge. Damon was a man of mystery and power battling with his demons as they sought to be unleashed upon his brother one day. Derek Antonio, the silent killer. It was a battle between two brothers, one who was despised and the other filled with hatred. The answers had to be given, why had Derek killed their parents? Why did he seek to kill even Damon, his own brother? Could it be power? Or was it something else? Damon dragged me into his own world, using me as his bait to get to Derek Antonio. But along the way, Derek Antonio seemed to grow fond of me and that was when all hell broke loose. It caused me to wonder, had Damon fallen for me? He never revealed it, all he ever did was use me for his own pleasure. I was torn between two brothers now and didn't know how it would end. This was a world I never wanted to be a part of. And the worst part, is Damon never ceased to reveal his brutality. Living in his world was chaotic...with this man, there was only danger lurking, but my heart spoke other languages, fear, curiosity, and lust...with this man, it was different, especially when he swore to break me.
The Firefighter's Accidental Wife

The Firefighter's Accidental Wife

My life, as a firefighter paramedic, seemed straightforward. I was engaged to Chloe, my high school sweetheart, and planned a future with her. But a secret, solemn commitment changed everything: to fulfill my dying adoptive mother Sarah's final wish, I quietly married Army Captain Maya Rodriguez. However, my return home to our shared house in Havenwood plunged me into a nightmare. Chloe, without consultation, announced her manipulative "rescuer," Ricky Vargas, and his young son Leo, were moving in indefinitely. This unwelcome intrusion quickly escalated into hostile takeover. Chloe dismissed my every concern, turning my personal office into Ricky's son's room, only for that child to deface my most sacred heirloom-my late father's firefighter helmet. When I confronted the boy, Ricky, the master manipulator, orchestrated a scene where his son feigned injury, leading Chloe to immediately side with him, accusing me of violence. She then unleashed a torrent of venom, calling me "just an orphan" and ordering me to leave, a cruel tirade unknowingly recorded and later shared by Ricky to twist the knife deeper. The ultimate betrayal came when Chloe, exploiting my profession, had me detained at the hospital and actively blocked my calls, callously preventing me from saying goodbye to my dying mother. Sarah passed away alone, a direct consequence of Chloe's spiteful actions. How could the woman I was supposed to marry, my childhood love, inflict such profound pain and injustice, stripping me of my dignity and my last moments with my mother? Reeling from grief, despair, and an overwhelming sense of betrayal, I chose to sever all ties, escaping the suffocating toxicity of my past. I walked away from Havenwood, from Chloe, and got on a plane, ready to face an unknown future with my new wife, Maya.
Divorce: The Only Way Out

Divorce: The Only Way Out

The launch party for my company was supposed to be the peak of my life' s ambition, but my eyes were glued to the door, waiting for my wife, Olivia. Just last week, she' d finally warmed up to me, hinting at starting a family after three years of a marriage that felt like a contract. Then the doors opened, and Olivia walked in, but she wasn' t alone; beside her, with a possessive hand on her back, was Dr. Marcus Thorne, her former mentor. He was a ghost from her past, and she was smiling at him in a way she never smiled at me. I watched them, trying to convince myself it was nothing, as he leaned in to whisper, and she laughed, an intimacy that screamed of a shared history I was not a part of. Dave, my business partner, clapped me on the shoulder, telling me we were "killing it," but my gaze was fixed on Olivia taking a glass of wine from Marcus, their fingers brushing. It felt like a punch to the stomach, seeing the effortless familiarity he had, everything I' d bled for in three years of trying. The anger and humiliation choked me, until I finally stumbled over to them, my voice hoarse. Marcus turned, looked me up and down, and with a condescending smirk, called me "the boy genius," belittling my entire existence. Then the room tilted, my chest tightened, and the world went black. I woke to the sterile smell of a hospital, Olivia asleep beside me, but the warmth turned to bitter self-mockery as I remembered her denial in front of him. Our marriage had been a transaction from the start-a deathbed promise to my father to "look after me." I was 21, grieving, hopelessly infatuated, and agreed, hoping forced proximity would blossom into love. Three years of trying to earn her affection, culminating in last week' s "validation," now felt like just another concession. A cold resolve settled over me; I couldn' t live as a child she was obligated to care for anymore. I disconnected the IV, and when Olivia stirred, I looked her in the eye and said, "Let's get a divorce." She was pale, shocked, but I had never been more clear; I signed the papers and walked out, leaving everything behind. For two days, I hid in a cheap motel, suffocating the voice that replayed her smiling at Marcus, until there was a loud banging on my door. It was Dave, and behind him, a pale and frantic Olivia, who pushed past him, calling me unthinking and childish. "I'm not a child, Olivia," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "Then stop acting like one!" she shot back, as I pulled the signed divorce papers from my bag and pushed them into her hands. "I'm letting you off the hook. You don't have to keep your promise to my father anymore. You're free." She stared at the papers, her eyes widening with disbelief, then she whispered, "No." And with a sudden, violent movement, she ripped the papers in half, declared she would not divorce me, and threw the shredded pieces at my feet. It was never about me; it was always about the promise.