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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
His Trophy Wife, Her Secret Life

His Trophy Wife, Her Secret Life

My wife, Sophia Hayes, was beautiful, poised, and utterly detached. For five years, our marriage had been a bizarre, silent transaction: she'd disappear for days, even weeks, to "support" her childhood sweetheart and his failing tech startup. Each time she returned, a lavish "guilt offering" would appear – a vintage Patek, a signed first edition, a priceless Ming vase. Ninety-nine such gifts now filled our sterile mansion, each a screaming monument to her absence and my bitter complicity. I was no longer the man who' d clung to hope, who' d screamed and shattered expensive crystal. Today, as she fastened a diamond bracelet, preparing for her hundredth departure, she waved away my feigned concern for our anniversary, prioritizing his celebration. "I need you to sign this," I said, offering a document I' d subtly placed among her latest "gift." She signed, carelessly dismissing it as a prenup addendum, already thinking of David. She didn' t read the fine print. She never did. "PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE" it read, the final decree awaiting its ironclad confirmation. The world saw her as a successful patron, supporting a talented founder, but at a glamorous gala, the veil slipped. A reporter, sensing blood, asked, "Are you two an item?" Panic flashed in Sophia' s eyes, and in her fear, she sought me out – her hidden husband – to rescue her public image. I stepped from the shadows, played my part, and then watched as she rushed not to me, but to him, murmuring reassurances. That night, she didn't come home; the next morning, she arrived, exhausted but triumphant, thanking me for "saving us." She dismissed my quiet anger as humility, oblivious. "You asked me to be there, Sophia," I said, watching her carefully curated world unravel. "I did? When?" she asked, genuinely bewildered. Her memory, a weapon of convenience, had erased my very existence. I nodded, utterly calm as she detailed her next trip with David, making another empty promise for "us" once she returned. That date was the day our divorce would be finalized. A cold, hard satisfaction settled in my gut; the world she had built was about to come crashing down. Just not in the way she expected.
The Curse Of The Vanderbilt Name

The Curse Of The Vanderbilt Name

I’m Willow Hayes, a girl from the Appalachians, chosen by the wealthy Vanderbilt family for my unique "life blessing." They wanted me to marry their dying son, Ethan, hoping I could save him and secure their lineage. I bore him twins—a boy and a girl. Ethan miraculously began to heal. But then, his supposed first love, Clara Beaumont, fed him vicious lies, claiming I'd ruined her life. Consumed by vengeance, Ethan brutally ripped my newborns from me right in the delivery room, before I even heard their first cries. He sneered my "blessing" was a curse, then abandoned me to bleed to death, faking a tragic childbirth accident. My entire Appalachian community was slandered, their homes and pride lost, all because of his baseless rage. How could the man I saved, the future father of my children, turn into such a monster based solely on a jealous woman's lies? How could a family that sought my gift allow such horrific cruelty to befall me and my people? The searing injustice of having my babies torn from me, combined with my agonizing death, burned a hole in my soul. But now, I’m back. Reborn. The Vanderbilts are knocking again, their matriarch’s sharp eyes desperate for my "blessing" to save Ethan. They think they can use me as a pawn a second time, but they have no idea what's coming. This time, I'm not here for their salvation; I'm here for a twisted justice only I can deliver, one that will make them wish I had never returned.
His Cruelty, Her Comeback

His Cruelty, Her Comeback

My husband, Bennet, was my hero. Three years ago, his stalker, Gianna, crippled my drawing hand, ending my career as an architect. Bennet promised me justice, locking her away in a remote cabin to suffer for her crime. On our fifth wedding anniversary, I went to the county office to update my records. The clerk looked at me with pity. "Ma'am, our records show you were divorced three years ago. Your ex-husband, Bennet Crosby, remarried on the same day." The name she read next shattered my world: Gianna Skinner. The punishment was a lie. Their prison was a lover's paradise. For three years, he lived a double life, celebrating our anniversary with his other wife. He brought her into our home as a maid, claiming it was for my "healing." He even shoved me to the ground in public to save her from a staged fall. The final betrayal came when Gianna framed me, convincing Bennet I had hired men to assault her. He dragged me to a dark room, not even recognizing me through a mask. He believed I was a stranger who had hurt his real wife. "Anyone who lays a hand on my wife," he snarled, "will feel a thousand times the pain." He personally whipped me ninety-nine times. The man who swore to protect me became my torturer, all while believing he was defending the woman he truly loved. He left me for dead, ordering his men to finish the job. But I escaped. Bleeding and broken, I fled the country with a new identity, my heart set on one thing: entering the Paris architecture competition and taking back the life he tried to destroy. He thought he had clipped my wings, but he only taught me how to fly from the ashes.
He Gave Her the Romance, I Gave Him Goodbye

He Gave Her the Romance, I Gave Him Goodbye

There was a romantic rule in the field of astronomy. The first asteroid a researcher discovered had to be named after someone they loved most. In my seventh year of enduring hardship by Adrian Foster's side, he finally discovered a new star. On the day of the press conference, I, Clara Reed, wore my most presentable dress, waiting for him to call my name on stage. When I went to the lounge to bring him water, I overheard his partner trying to dissuade him in a low voice. "Adrian, Clara has been with you for seven years, if you give the naming rights to Lily, how devastated is Clara going to be? This isn't fair to Clara at all." Adrian toyed with a lighter, his tone completely matter-of-fact. "Clara is too dull. Naming a star after her would be tacky. Lily is a violinist. Her name fits the romance of this star much better. Besides, Clara is almost thirty. She's already lost the looks she once had. Who else would want her besides me? She gets marriage, Lily gets romance. What else could she possibly be unhappy about?" A draft swept through the corridor, chilling me to the bone. My throat burned sharply, every breath carrying a faint metallic taste. I looked at the cup of warm water in my hand. I didn't push the door open and turned back toward the hall. I went straight to the registration desk and submitted a document. "Please revoke my co-authorship attribution." I didn't want the star anymore. And I didn't want Adrian anymore either.