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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Public Shame, Private Triumph

Public Shame, Private Triumph

The music was too loud at Bella Hayes' s staff gala. My girlfriend, Bella, was across the room, laughing, owning the whole chain. I was her sous-chef, our love a secret. Then Julian Vance, Bella' s childhood friend who always looked like he sniffed something bad, cornered me. He accused me, loudly, of stealing his vintage designer watch. He ripped open my bag, scattering my mother' s medical bills across the polished floor for everyone to see. "Motive," he sneered. Bella, the woman I loved, walked over, her eyes cold. She told me to "let it go," publicly hinting my "moment of desperation" explained it all. She thought I was guilty. Her words hit harder than any punch. This public betrayal later led to my sick mother collapsing, in desperate need of expensive, specialized treatment. How could Bella, who claimed to love me, so easily believe I was a thief? How could she watch me be publicly shamed, then abandon me when my mother and I needed her most? I was innocent, but trapped and desperate. In my deepest despair, Julian offered me the money for my mother' s treatment-if I disappeared from New York and Bella' s life, forever. I accepted, my pride swallowed. But hours later, a phone call. An IT guy, guilt-ridden, sent me security footage Julian missed. It showed everything: Julian planting the watch in my bag. My mother was my priority then, but justice? New York thought it broke me. They were wrong. I was just getting started.
His Loss, Her Lasting Love

His Loss, Her Lasting Love

Six years. An engagement ring on my finger. A future designed together, just like the buildings we drafted. All of it shattered when Mark, my fiancé and professional partner, coldly declared, "It's not working, Ava. I'm with Chloe now." My world crumbled further as Mark and his new, younger intern, Chloe, began a calculated campaign to erase my contributions at work, culminating in Chloe taking credit for my projects and Mark accusing me of mental instability to sideline me professionally. The betrayal escalated when, after I tried to confront Chloe about my vandalized portfolio and missing belongings-acts I knew she committed-Mark brazenly defended her, painting me as the aggressor. "You' ve gone from pathetic to dangerous," he sneered, publicly suspending me and demanding I leave the premises. Shoved into a dark storage closet by security, alone and overwhelmed, I overheard Mark' s contemptuous voice: "She's faking it. She's just looking for sympathy. Leave her there. It's what she deserves." Then Chloe appeared, her face close to mine, venomously whispering, "You should have just stayed broken. He was mine. This job was mine. You had your turn." She pressed down hard on the bruise Mark had left on my arm, a chilling, triumphant smile on her face. Just as I thought I couldn' t bear another moment, a new voice cut through the air outside, loud and utterly unfamiliar: "I'm looking for Ava Miller. Her fiancé sent me to pick her up. Where is she?"
The Affair, The Baby, The Betrayal

The Affair, The Baby, The Betrayal

My flight from Geneva was long, fueled by the anticipation of seeing Ethan and picking up our lives. My surgical fellowship was finally complete. But as I cleared customs, a text from an unknown number shattered my world: "Ava, don't go to Cedar View Birthing Center. Ethan is there with Chloe. The baby has arrived." Chloe. His high school friend, the one he always said he owed a life debt. Then, another text: "Eleanor and Richard hired them. They said to keep you from 'causing a scene'." His parents, who once called me the daughter they never had, were complicit. My hands went cold. I went to our house, where the nursery light glowed softly. The air was thick with baby powder and Chloe’s cloying perfume. Ethan was there, holding the baby, Chloe beside him, his parents beaming. His mother’s voice was icy: "Your career kept you busy, Ava. Ethan needed a family." Then Ethan, my husband, looked at me, offering a grotesque explanation. "Chloe is terminally ill. This was her dying wish. And after your… difficulties… this could be painless motherhood for you." Painless. He called my infertility a "difficulty" and expected me to accept this child of an affair? They wanted me to cooperate, to become the silent accomplice in my own humiliation and erasure. “Okay,” I said, seeing the relief on their faces. They had no idea the ice in my eyes, or the secret plan that had just clicked into place.
SOLD TO THE MAFIA KING.

SOLD TO THE MAFIA KING.

As we reached the main road, my father stopped, seemingly waiting for someone. "Papa, why are we here?" I questioned, my voice trembling. "Be quiet, Aria. You ask too many questions," he replied, refusing to meet my gaze. "Papa?" I called out, concerned as I noticed his trembling hands and perspiring brow. He turned to face me, his eyes filled with anxiety. "What's wrong?" I asked, my worry intensifying. He seemed worn out and stressed, as if he might collapse at any moment. "Aria," he began, but his sentence was cut short by the squealing of tires approaching us. Not just one car, but two... no, three. Before I could comprehend what was happening, we were surrounded. The door of the Lamborghini Huracán swung open, and a tall man stepped out. I found myself gaping at him before a black sack was forcefully placed over my head. I struggled, kicking and fighting, but then I heard a distinct click. "Do anything stupid, and Francesco dies..." "Francesco? That was my father... my own father..." I tried to calm myself, even though not entirely successfully, as I was thrown into a car. The journey began, and with the sack still covering my face, I had no idea where they were taking me. When the sack was finally removed, I found myself standing before Alessandro Genovese... SOLD TO THE MAFIA KING Copyright 2023. Blaliy Lilian.A. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written consent of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously and are a product of the author's imagination.
She Can't Be Tamed

She Can't Be Tamed

"What does she have that I don't possess?" Arla questioned sarcastically. "As far as I know, I'm better in bed than her. Do you want to find out?" "Don't test my patience," Liam warned, his voice firm and unyielding. Unfazed, Arla continued her seductive advances, pulling off the first layer of her nightwear as she walked towards him. "Don't you want me?" she asked, her voice dripping with temptation. "Say you want me." Liam, unable to resist her allure, pulled her onto the bed and laid on top of her. "Touch me," she purred "I'm all yours." Arla, the notoriously rebellious youngest daughter of the famous billionaire Williams, was born into a complex family dynamic. With four daughters from different mothers, the Williams household was no stranger to drama and tension. After causing yet another scandal, Arla's father had had enough and decided to marry her off to Liam, a ruthless mafia leader. Unbeknownst to Arla, Liam's world was filled with numerous mistresses, each vying for his attention and favor. However, Liam's heart truly belonged to only one woman: Vivian, his childhood love. Amidst the chaos and passion that swirled within the mansion, Arla found herself under the watchful eye of Liam's cunning and ruthless stepmother, who controlled and manipulated the mistresses with an iron fist. Unwilling to be tamed, Arla's arrival in the mansion would shake the foundations of Liam's dynasty. As she navigated the tangled web of secrets, deceit, and desire, Arla refused to bow to the will of those who sought to control her. With her fierce spirit and unyielding determination, she would leave an indelible mark on the hearts and lives of those who dared cross her path.
The Discarded Wife's Genius Comeback

The Discarded Wife's Genius Comeback

Eight years of my life, my brilliance, my family inheritance-all poured into Mark' s biotech startup, GenLife. I was the unsung architect, coding his prototypes late into the night, nursing his dying mother, while my own career gathered dust. When GenLife finally soared, Mark was captivated by Cassandra, his self-proclaimed muse and my own biological parents' golden child. Then, gravely ill with pneumonia and desperate, I tried to reach him to pick up our son, Ben. Instead of my husband, I found an Instagram story: Mark, Ben, and the Winthrops-my birth parents-toasting Cassandra' s lavish 'surprise promotion.' The centerpiece? A cake featuring my revolutionary molecule design, dismissed by Mark years ago as "too theoretical," now proudly presented as her intellectual triumph. Standing right there, in front of everyone, our son called Cassandra "Mommy" while his father looked on, unbothered. The raw betrayal, the audacity of parading my stolen work and my own child' s shifted affection, was a physical shock that cut through my fever. How could the man I loved, the family I sacrificed everything for, erase my existence so thoroughly, so publicly? They believed they had broken me, reduced me to nothing. But as I walked out of that opulent restaurant, leaving their celebration behind, a quiet, icy clarity settled in: a phoenix doesn't rise from ashes without first burning down the old world. This was my turning point. This was the moment I chose to reclaim my name, my work, and my future, on my own terms.