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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
No Strings Attached

No Strings Attached

'Oh God pretty please! This looks too good to be true.' Mia thought as she pushed her lips forward with her eyes closed to be kissed. Rey's breath got labored, he had to fight against getting a hard-on just looking at her this way. 'What is she doing to me?' He saw the way her eyes closed in earnest, trying to get a kiss from him. He almost gave in but held himself back at the last minute, what was wrong with him!? This is against the contract; she said it herself, 'no strings attached.' This, this whole thing was breaching the contract. "What do you think you are doing?" Rey chuckled loudly making Mia's eyes open abruptly. "What." She looked at his mocking gaze and felt the air being squeezed out of her lungs. "Do you have what it takes to kiss me?" The question rang over and again in her head, and her eyes blurred with tears. Looking down to avoid him seeing her hurt which he already noticed by the way, she shook her head in response. "You must be delusional." Rey avoided looking at Mia after seeing the initial hurt in her eyes. He knew his words were hurtful, but he had to say them to cut any unnecessary bond between them; this was purely a business transaction and nothing else. 'Delusional' repeated itself in Mia's head and whatever romantic thought she had about him died instantly. "What was it you wanted to do? Kiss me even when I pay you. ****** Mia who had sat down on the pile of her clothes with her now dried body, looked about distraught. "I shouldn't have allowed him anywhere close to me." Her eyes were reddened, and her lips pouted as she was about to cry. In such an intense moment, she forgot there were to be no strings attached, and everything was to be transactional. Holding onto the pain and embarrassment of the night, she vowed never to allow herself to fall too cheap for his deliberate deception. ******* "Reynaldo Davies, the first and only son of The Davies, finds himself in a constricted situation of choosing a wife, a command made clear by his Father, Mr Davies, on turning sixty, otherwise, young Davies would forfeit his inheritance to his younger sister. He makes a business proposal with Mia, his cook, who has no expectation of any kind, coming from the fling Reynaldo. In desperation, she agrees but only on the condition that certain lines are drawn and rules are kept. All is fair and clear until Celine, Reynaldo's high school friend, comes into the picture. His mother had arranged an engagement for them against Reynaldo's persistence in dating his cook, "acting as his girlfriend". Would this act bloom into something beautiful? What would be the fate of Mia? Would Celine succeed in her quest for love? Will he gain his inheritance?
Stolen Love, Stolen Identity

Stolen Love, Stolen Identity

Sarah Miller and Ethan Vanderbilt were a unit, nearly a decade strong, their love a rebellion against his old-money East Coast family, especially his disapproving mother. Then, a devastating crash left Ethan with amnesia, his life clinging by a thread, desperately needing a rare bone marrow transplant – a perfect match Sarah bravely provided. But when she awoke, weak yet hopeful, she found Ethan by the side of Ashley Davenport, a 'friend' always coveting him, who now claimed she was his fiancée and his savior. Ethan, his eyes empty of recognition, looked right through Sarah as his mother, Eleanor, coldly dismissed her as an 'unstable fan,' allowing her to stay only as a tormented household servant. Every day, Sarah endured Ashley' s taunts, Tiffany' s cruelty, and Ethan' s chilling indifference, watching her life, her love, erased before her eyes. The man who once whispered 'You're my angel' now lashed out with contempt, accusing her of theft, of trying to harm the woman who stole her place. The systematic destruction of their shared memories, coupled with Ethan' s utter lack of recall, fueled an agonizing despair: how could he forget their entire life, his love for her, the sacrifice she made? Finally, unjustly accused of theft and violent outbursts by the deceptive duo, Sarah was brutally cast out of the mansion, broken and alone, with nowhere left to turn. Yet, just when all hope seemed lost, a quiet act of kindness from an unexpected source offered a glimmer of light and a chance at a new beginning, far from the Vanderbilt' s cruel facade.
Chloe's Web, Liam's Freedom

Chloe's Web, Liam's Freedom

Today was supposed to be my fourth wedding to Chloe, my fiancée since we were sixteen. I stood at the altar, surrounded by friends and family, the grand church filled with white roses. But instead of Chloe, her maid of honor rushed down the aisle, clutching her phone, her face etched with panic. Then, my phone vibrated. A text from Chloe: "I' m so sorry, Liam. I can' t. Mark needs me. He' s at the hospital. He said he was in a car accident." Not again. Another one of Mark' s car accident lies, the same one he used months ago. Hundreds of eyes fixed on me, a mix of pity and morbid curiosity. This wasn't postponement; it was a public execution. Tears of profound humiliation stung my eyes. My decade of devotion meant nothing; she chose her manipulative assistant over me, again. Then, a new notification. A social media post from Mark. A selfie. Mark, smug and triumphant. And Chloe, asleep on his shoulder, in a hotel room, not a hospital. "Some things are worth fighting for. So happy you' re finally mine," the caption read. Rage, hot and white-hot, surged through me. This was a calculated, public humiliation. They weren't hiding; they were celebrating. Then, a message request from Mark. A picture. Chloe, asleep in the hotel bed. My wedding dress, draped over a chair in the background, a ghostly white sentinel. He had planned this. He was taunting me. Mark answered my call, his voice smooth and arrogant. "We're at the Grand Star Hotel, room 1208. You know, the one right next to the general hospital. It' s so much more comfortable for Chloe to rest here while I recover from my, ah, 'terrible accident' ." He laughed, a smug, ugly sound. He sent another picture: Chloe' s hand, intertwined with his. My great-grandmother' s engagement ring gone, replaced by a simple gold band. "It feels like nothing," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "You can have her." I hung up. I left it all behind, the house, the memories, the woman. I was free, but I had to fight to stay that way.
Driving You Insane: How To Become Famous

Driving You Insane: How To Become Famous

After being molested by her boss, Denova decides it is time to pay him back in his own coin. But, not complying with the sane advice of her best friend, she decides to take matters into her own hands. With a poorly thought out plan, she heads down to the parking lot where his brand-new Rolls Royce was supposedly parked and inscribes abusive words on the car, she finds there that matches the description, just to be caught by the driver of the real owner of the car. Rhys, the owner, demands that Denova be sued and he asks his driver to call his lawyer. While doing so, his driver is run-over by a black truck, leaving him severely injured. Mad about what happened to his driver, Rhys ends up yelling at Denova, blaming her for what happened and demands that she replaces him till he can drive again. He threatens to sue her if she didn't comply, so Denova agrees to be his driver. With the two of them constantly butting heads, Rhys thinks he has his plate full until the sudden appearance of his ex-fiancé causes him to take drastic measures. Pretending to be Denova's boyfriend, he has to face backlash from both his father who is hell bent on getting him back together with his ex, and step brother, who happens to be Denova's ex. And with the antifan who keeps sending him death threats, Rhys has a lot to handle. Will he be able to keep his ex at bay without falling for Denova or will he have another girl trouble? What happens when Rhys finds a clue to his attacks in his brother's coat? Will he be able to forgive the betrayal or will he discover a greater power at work?
He Proposed Again, I Introduced My Husband.

He Proposed Again, I Introduced My Husband.

The flashbulbs were blinding, the “Rising Critic” statuette heavy and cold in my grasp. Outside the hotel, amidst the swarm of photographers, a familiar figure pushed through and knelt before me. Jake Brown, my ex-fiancé, held open a velvet box, a diamond winking under the harsh lights. “Emily,” he rasped, a sound I once knew intimately, “Marry me. Again.” His family materialized behind him, beaming, a well-rehearsed chorus expecting my tears and a trembling, “Yes, oh, yes!” But they’d forgotten—or perhaps never knew—the full story of how he’d publicly accused me of sabotaging his signature dish. How he’d whispered lies to the restaurant owner, implying I pilfered expensive ingredients. How I was fired on the spot, my name dragged through the mud, my culinary dreams torched. His mother, Carol, tried to paint him as a suffering hero, claiming he’d spent a fortune clearing my name from the food poisoning incident. Yet, I remembered the real origins: the cheap, peanut-contaminated oil, the plagiarism he later framed me for. I remembered being left with a shattered wrist in a dark alley, as he walked away, abandoning me to a mob that *he* had stirred against me. His grand gesture now felt like the ultimate insult, dripping with manufactured sympathy—and unbearable blame. Three years had been long enough to heal, to rebuild, to find a love that didn’t demand sacrifice, yet they had the audacity to stage this performance. How could they stand here, rewriting history, when *he* had ripped everything from me? My voice was even, devoid of the storm that once raged, as I held up my left hand. A simple, elegant gold band gleamed beside my engagement ring—Noah’s ring. “Jake and I ended things three years ago,” I stated, my eyes steady. “And for your information, I’m already married.” The collective gasp and intensifying flashbulbs signaled that *my* story, the real one, was just beginning.
The Jilted Bride's Revenge

The Jilted Bride's Revenge

My New York apartment smelled of lilies and roses, and my perfect Hamptons wedding was just three days away. Mark Olsen was everything I'd ever wanted: charming, successful, and devoted. I was about to become Mrs. Mark Olsen, stepping into the solid, perfect future we' d planned. Then a text from an unknown number shattered my world: "Can't believe you're still going through with this sham wedding. Last weekend was proof you belong with ME. Call it off like you promised, or I will. - T." My breath hitched. The words swam before my eyes. Mark was supposedly at a finance conference that very weekend, but my investigative dive into "T" (Tiffany Hayes, his high school ex) revealed glossy photos of her at his hotel, captured during his supposed conference. To add insult to injury, Tiffany was already engaged to another man, Alex Walker. I wasn't just betrayed; I was Mark's desperate fallback plan. Every cherished moment, every promise over our year-long engagement, felt like a sickening, elaborate lie. Why propose, why plan this lavish wedding, if I was just a convenient consolation prize? The thought was humiliating, the destruction of everything I believed our relationship was. My excitement curdled into icy rage. I wouldn't just call off the wedding. I decided to expose them both. This wouldn't be a celebration of love; it would be their public downfall, and I had just the stage for it: our pre-wedding brunch.