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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
When The Tesla Called

When The Tesla Called

The automated call from the Tesla came at 10 PM, shattering the illusion of my perfect life with Ryan. "A collision has been detected. The registered owner, Ryan Scott, may be unresponsive." I rushed to the ER, dread gripping my heart, only to find him on a gurney, pale and sweaty. But he wasn't alone; Sylvia, his brother's widow, was clutching his hand, looking disheveled and frantic. Then, my childhood friend, Dr. Andrew Lester, delivered the chilling truth: "There was no collision. Mr. Scott experienced... an acute allergic reaction. Anaphylaxis." A severe latex allergy, exacerbated by "strenuous physical activity." The words hung in the air, heavy and obscene; the pieces clicked into place with sickening finality. It wasn't a car crash. It was sex. In his car. For seven years, I had downplayed my family's wealth, my education, my ambitions, all to prop up the myth of the "self-made" Ryan Scott. For this? His blatant lies the next morning, about "bad shellfish" and needing me to pick up his impounded Tesla, were a cruel joke. The car reeked of stale champagne and cheap perfume, brazenly displaying a high-heeled shoe and a torn silk blouse; his contempt for me was physically manifested. But their sick game was about to change. When Andrew, my childhood friend, quietly appeared at the impound lot, I made my decision. "The marriage. With your family. I told my father yes." My path was set: cold, clear, and utterly decisive.
Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: My Life Without You

Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: My Life Without You

My engagement party, the culmination of five years poured into Ethan Cartwright and our future, was supposed to be my fairy tale. But hiding on the terrace, his voice, cold and dismissive, echoed through the night: "Sarah? She's perfect. Adorably naive, utterly devoted. She won't rock the boat. Won't challenge me. And she certainly won't interfere with Isabelle." The words hit like stones, shattering my world and sending me tumbling into darkness. I woke up with amnesia, the doctor explaining recent memories were gone – Ethan's name meant nothing. But this man, a stranger, kept pushing me, forcing me into public appearances purely for his convenience. At his gala, his actual lover, Isabelle, deliberately pushed me down a grand staircase. I learned later that fall cost me a baby I never knew I carried – *his* baby. Yet, he showed zero concern. Instead, Ethan demanded I issue a public apology for "attacking" Isabelle, threatening to annul our engagement on grounds of mental instability and destroy my family's business if I refused. A man I couldn't even remember was trying to ruin my life, dismissing my pain and accusing me of deceit. The amnesia, meant as a curse, became my liberation. Looking into his empty eyes, I finally spoke, my voice steady: "This is the last thing I will ever do for you. Consider our ties severed." I walked away, leaving behind a life I could no longer remember, eager for a new beginning in Chicago with someone whose warmth offered a fragile promise – Noah Evans.
My Marriage, A Deadly Lie

My Marriage, A Deadly Lie

My marriage was a lie, a tragic commitment made in the shadow of my fiancé Ryan's untimely death in a plane crash. Drowning in grief, I accepted his younger brother Liam' s proposal to continue the engagement, believing it was an act of selfless duty to protect the family and honor Ryan. Liam transformed, becoming a devoted, loving husband who showered me with affection, whispering promises of eternal fidelity. He was my rock through fertility struggles, heartbreaking doctor' s appointments, and especially after losing our unborn child, our little Hope. "I love you, Chloe," he swore, his voice thick with emotion after our miscarriage. "I don' t care if we ever have children. It' s you I want. Only you, forever." I clung to those words, believing them to be the one solid truth in my shattered world. A month later, a overheard conversation changed everything: Liam' s cousin, Maya, desperate about her son Leo, and Liam' s calm reassurance, "Don' t worry, I' ll handle it." Then came a chilling whisper from Maya, "You helped me and your brother, who faked his death, to be together." Ryan, alive? Leo, his son? The pieces of a monstrous betrayal slammed into place, shattering my reality. Liam' s love, his tears for our lost baby, his unwavering support-it was all an act, a calculated performance to hide his brother and protect an heir. My marriage wasn't just a lie; it was a crime scene. He orchestrated my miscarriage to clear Leo' s path to the inheritance. He murdered Hope. The pain, bottled up and performed as grief, rushed back as a tidal wave of pure, clarifying rage. I wouldn' t cry. I wouldn't break down. Not yet. "No, you' re not (going to kill him)," my best friend and private investigator Jessica said, gripping my shoulders. "You' re going to destroy him. There' s a difference. We can go to the police right now." "No," I declared, a chilling clarity cutting through the pain. "The police won' t be enough. His family is too powerful. They' ll bury it. They' ll paint me as a hysterical, grieving wife." I wiped away my tears, the grief now fuel. "They want Leo to be the heir?" I said, my voice cold and hard. "They want to protect the family' s reputation? Fine. I' ll give them exactly what they want, right before I take it all away." "I' m not running away," I declared. "I' m not going to be a victim. I' m staying right here. I' m going to host a party. A big one. The biggest this family has ever seen. And I' m going to give everyone a show they will never, ever forget."
Rejection's Fury: A Wife's Return

Rejection's Fury: A Wife's Return

I stood in front of City Hall, clutching a marriage license application, waiting for the man I' d loved for five years. He was late. Again. This was the 99th time Damien Crawford had chosen someone else over me. But this time, a picture on my phone showed him smiling with his high school sweetheart, Hadley Stuart, the woman he' d never gotten over. When I returned to his mansion, Hadley was curled up next to him, his mother beaming. His mother, Cecil, gave Hadley a family heirloom bracelet, dismissing me as a servant. Damien, instead of apologizing, grabbed my arm, accusing me of a tantrum. He still thought he was in control. I showed him the torn marriage license, telling him I wanted nothing from him anymore. He responded by dragging me to my room, pushing me against the wall, and trying to kiss me. I told him he was dirty. Then, my father collapsed. Damien, seeing the jacket a male security guard had given me, refused to let me take my dying father to the hospital, claiming Hadley was having a panic attack. His mother, Cecil, slashed the car tires and threw the keys into a fountain, laughing as my father stopped breathing. My father died. At the hospital, Damien jabbed an acupuncture needle into my hand, telling me it was what happened when I disobeyed him. He still didn't know the scar on my back was from the skin graft I gave him. Why did I sacrifice everything for a man who saw me as property, who let my father die? Why did I stay for five years, only to be treated like dirt? I called Anderson, my adoptive brother, the CEO of the Morrison Group. It was time to go home. It was time for Damien Crawford to pay.