Romance Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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When Love Became A Lie
The wedding dress, a Parisian dream, hung ready. My guardian, Daniel Hayes, the man stepping into the role of my husband in three weeks, surveyed me with possessive eyes. Everything was perfect, almost too perfect for the girl who lost her parents and world in a fire, only to be taken in by a generous "uncle." Then, his phone buzzed. A name popped up: "Sarah." And beneath it, a picture of a smiling woman and a small boy grinning at the camera, with a message: "Kev and I are waiting. Don't be late." My perfectly constructed world began to crack. He admitted it-Sarah was his fiancée ten years ago, before she left him. I was merely a "substitute," a convenient look-alike to fill the void she left. His affection, his care, our shared love-all a calculated lie. Then, an anonymous email confirmed my worst fears: he was still seeing her, even now, on the eve of our wedding. "You're a monster," I told him, tears streaming down my face. He just stared, unmoved, his voice like ice: "The wedding will go on as planned, Olivia. You will not embarrass me." He wanted me to be a dutiful wife, a pawn in his twisted game. The pre-wedding gala was a public humiliation. Sarah appeared, triumphant, with her son. Daniel, caught between us, didn't defend me. He paraded me before the woman he truly desired. It wasn't just betrayal; it was torture. And then came the ultimate blow: he hit me, in front of them, leading to the devastating loss of our unborn child. Lying in the hospital, my heart hollow, I let him believe his feigned remorse. He wanted to "make it right," to "send them away." He thought he still had me, the forgiving, wounded woman. But the girl who loved him had died in that studio, with our child. A new plan, cold and sharp, began to form in the hollow space where my heart used to be./0/80914/coverorgin.jpg?v=68598f64f8cdcd2f9343a12833094925&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Day I Chose My Own Destiny
My blood was a rare gift, able to heal any wound and mend broken bodies. In my first wretched life, it bound me to Ethan Vanderbilt, who saw my power as his sole property. But my gift couldn't bring back the dead, a truth Ethan refused to accept when his "true love," Veronica, lay lifeless before him. Consumed by a twisted grief not for me, he cruelly watched as my own life bled out from a wound he inflicted. I died a slow, agonizing death, powerless against his vengeful madness. As darkness claimed me, a maid's faint whisper revealed a chilling secret: Veronica wasn’t where they claimed; her death wasn't an accident. "Another man… his wife found out." My entire torment, my very death, was built on a monstrous lie. The utter injustice of it burned, even as I faded. Then, I gasped, whole and alive, in a hospital room. The calendar date confirmed it: I was back to the very day Ethan first summoned me. This time, I wouldn't be his victim. This time, I had a choice. This was my second chance./0/85920/coverorgin.jpg?v=fd6741ca727046d896ef2a617443f6f9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Obsession, My Betrayal
One year with David Chen felt like paradise after Jake, but love, I learned, is a master illusionist. I thought I' d found solace in David' s arms, after my long-term boyfriend Jake unceremoniously dropped me for his high school sweetheart, Emily. Then, on our first anniversary, hunting for a rare comic, I stumbled upon David' s secret studio-not a creative haven, but a chilling shrine to Emily Carter, plastered floor to ceiling with her portraits. Hundreds of his letters lay scattered, each a meticulously dated testament to a seven-year obsession, detailing how he used my heartbreak, my trust, to orchestrate Jake and Emily' s reunion. I wasn' t a girlfriend; I was a pawn in his sick game, a means to an end for the woman he truly loved to get back with my ex. The betrayal was a violation, worse than Jake' s, a cold, calculated masterpiece of manipulation that turned my year of healing into a cruel deception. I had to escape, to sever this twisted knot of lies, and the only way out was to call my parents and accept the arranged marriage I' d always laughed at. Just as the decision formed, David' s cheerful voice echoed through the studio, followed by the shattering sound of groceries, and his fake smile dissolving as he saw the truth laid bare. He tried to smooth it over, playing the concerned lover, until I revealed my drastic plan: "I' m moving to New York. I'm getting married." His dismissive smirk was quickly replaced by panic as Emily Carter herself appeared, walking calmly into his web of lies, confirming his deception. Later, doubled over in agony, suffering from a ruptured appendix, I called him for help-the man I thought loved me. He hung up, choosing to tend to Emily' s "headache" over my very real, life-threatening pain, dismissing my screams as manipulative drama. The words "You're just trying to get my attention" echoed as my phone died, the realization slicing through me: he would rather let me die than displease her. Finally, face-to-face in the hospital, he saw me. He saw the IV, the monitors, the reality of my near-death while he' d coddled his fragile Emily just feet away, oblivious. Yet, his gaze hardened, turning from me back to her, and he walked away, promising to return, a promise I knew was as hollow as his love. I fled to New York, rebuilding my life, forging a new identity, finding unexpected peace with my arranged fiancé, Ethan. But the past wasn' t done. David found me./0/84825/coverorgin.jpg?v=438d38ae6b74d3bb12d1d9b6769e0e58&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unbreakable Chloe's Rise
For fifteen years, Ethan was my world, my protector, the golden boy next door. But our fairytale shattered into a nightmare when I discovered his multiple betrayals: a secret affair, public denial of our relationship, and worst of all, his absence at my grandmother's funeral, the woman who raised me, because he was with another woman, Vivian. The pain was unbearable; I tried to end it all, waking up in a hospital bed only to hear him defend his mistress and witnessed his callous disregard for my suffering. He paraded Vivian around, singing "our song" with her at the community show, then gave her our cherished time capsule, and finally, went live to brand me as a delusional stalker, all while his new affair meticulously spun lies to destroy my reputation and budding career. But I wouldn't be silence; I planned my comeback on national radio, forcing him to face the truth and exposing his manipulative mistress once and for all./0/83730/coverorgin.jpg?v=f04e2cf55fb20854a2d6c79de813e62e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Cruelest Game
For three torturous years, I lived as a ghost in my own life. Haunted by the car crash I believed killed my sister, Savannah, and crippled her boyfriend, Ethan, I dedicated myself to his care. He was my tormentor, using my guilt as his chain. Then, one stormy night, I walked into a honky-tonk bar and heard the laughter. It was Ethan, boasting to his friends: "Three whole years she's bought it. Wiping my ass, feeding me like a baby, all because she thinks she crippled me." My world didn't just crack; it shattered when I saw him stand and dance. His paralysis was a lie. My three years of devotion, his meticulous act of revenge. He didn't stop there. He moved me to a dusty tack room, forced me to watch him replace my sister, and then, in a sadistic climax, lured me to a hunting cabin. There, he and his friends humiliated me, filming my terror. Broken, I faked my own death, escaping to Oregon, shedding my identity to become Anna. I found love and a future, finally breathing again. But fate has a cruel sense of irony. Ethan, now truly paralyzed by psychosomatic trauma triggered by my "death," was sent to a clinic in my new city. Our eyes met across a busy street, and his desperate cry, "Sarah!" tore through my new life. He tried to control me again, but I was no longer the girl he broke. Standing tall with the man I loved, I unleashed three years of silenced truth. "You killed Savannah," I declared, exposing his role in her desperation. "And the hunting cabin? You filmed that for amusement!" He stared, utterly defeated, as the truth of his monstrous acts finally consumed him. This time, I didn't run. I stood defiant, free, ready to marry the man who showed me what true love was. My past was behind me, and my own future, filled with quiet happiness, had just begun./0/75126/coverorgin.jpg?v=e9905e225729cce0f9c1b81f123faa4c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shattered Vow
It was supposed to the happiest day of her life. She had always wished for a happily ever after. Kimberly saw herself standing alone at the altar. She was abandoned on her wedding day, her world scrambled before her eye. Her dreams of a perfect future with the love of her life was no more. Being uncertain about her future, Kimberly must embark on a journey of self Discovery, and healing. She needs to create a new life for herself, but can she pick of the piece of her life and learn to love again, or will her past hunt and prevent her from finding happiness./0/38207/coverorgin.jpg?v=a7469922b22c7908034f813c8938c00e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Flash Marriage, Overbearing Love
Eight years ago, because of the drastic changes in her family, she was painful to part with him, and was willing to be misunderstood by him. Eight years later, the two met again at a classmate's reunion, after which they met again and again. She thought he hated her, but he unexpectedly proposed to her. She thought he was still affectionate to her, but they esteemed each other as strangers after they married. Finally, she couldn't stand a marriage without love, she left a divorce agreement, and went away again .../0/82948/coverorgin.jpg?v=504bae3ac95a6088910c219eb3f6c7bd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn to Reject You
I woke up with a gasp, my head pounding, in Ethan Reed's opulent penthouse. Another one of his infamous parties, and he was slumped, reeking of alcohol, calling out someone else' s name. Then he mumbled, "Call… call my angel. Call Chloe." My blood ran cold. This was it. The exact moment. The one I' d lived and died to escape. In my first life, my stupid, desperate love for him – my guardian – led me to seize his drunken vulnerability. That night, I "comforted" him. It led to a scandalous pregnancy, a forced marriage, and his true love' s death in a car crash on our wedding day. Ethan blamed me for everything. He transformed into a monster, and when I went into labor, he watched me bleed out, whispering hateful words as I died. "This is for Chloe," he' d hissed. I spent my entire previous life trapped, tormented, and discarded for a love that was a lie. How could I have been so blind, so foolish? The injustice of it burned. But this time, I was lucid. This time, I had my memories. My hands were steady as I reached for my phone, found Chloe Vance's number, and pressed call. This time, I wouldn't seek his love. I would shatter his perfect life and gain my own freedom./0/90457/coverorgin.jpg?v=f2dffb37e7bed6bf7d8921d2de8d4d89&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Thought I'd Stay: His Mistake
Today was my four-year anniversary with Chace. He told me to wear my white dress for a surprise he had planned. I spent all afternoon getting ready, practicing my "Yes," certain he was finally going to propose. But when I arrived at the hotel ballroom, the banner read, "Congratulations, Chace & Karyn." In front of all their friends and family, he got down on one knee and proposed to his childhood friend, Karyn Warren. He used his mother's heirloom ring—the one he once showed me, saying it was for the woman he would spend his life with. He then introduced me, his girlfriend of four years, as "a very good friend." His new fiancée smiled sweetly and told me their marriage would be an open one, giving me permission to stay on as his mistress. I overheard him telling his friend his real plan: "Karyn is my wife for show, but Ember can be my woman on the side for fun." He thought I would just accept being his toy. He was wrong. I pulled out my phone and texted a number I'd never dared to call before—the executor of my estranged father's will. "I need to claim my inheritance." His reply was instant. "Of course, Ms. Ford. The stipulation is a marriage to me. Are you ready to proceed?" "Yes," I typed back. My life with Chace was over./0/18496/coverorgin.jpg?v=72f9fbe945ac856182187609258d0202&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Uncontrollable Fondness
“Marry me!” she said, her breathing became softer and the pensive gaze melted into a smile as soft as the morning light. “Try to convince me then…” he whispered into her ears. He had always been the center of attraction, effortlessly drawing people towards him like bees to honey. It wasn’t just his striking good looks or his status as the young master of the Yun Company that exclusively attributed to his charm. It was his reserved, almost taciturn heart that everyone found attractive. However, she had an ace up her sleeve that assured her that she would win this game./0/84356/coverorgin.jpg?v=5065acfb553ac8214cd0fb66971ff5ae&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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./0/19904/coverorgin.jpg?v=8a8962dbcde9d377429259cd4bd30e70&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Fighter and I
Could you fall in love with the man that ends up hurting your brother in the ring? Layla wanted Derek from the first moment she set her eyes upon him, but when she see's him in action she's not so sure he is the right man for her. Can Derek prove to her he's ready to settle down and be the kind of man she needs or will he lose her forever?/0/80758/coverorgin.jpg?v=0e32e1bdb75203d899ffcc804416cca4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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./0/85764/coverorgin.jpg?v=97310e997137bb4436f3f5affab2df85&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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."/0/32419/coverorgin.jpg?v=76721c2fd171d43ef0432c4c9afd3b23&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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The Billionaire's Fake Wife, My Revenge
After three years abroad, I came home to surprise my secret husband, tech billionaire Gilbert Davis. He was finally CEO of his family's empire, and I believed our life together was about to begin. The surprise was on me. The first thing I learned wasn't from him, but from the breaking news alerts: Gilbert was engaged to an influencer named Hayden Torres, his supposed long-lost love. The world shattered when I saw her picture. She had my face. Then the truth unraveled, each piece more horrific than the last. Hayden was my half-sister. Our three-year marriage was a forged document, a cruel play he staged because I was a convenient substitute for the woman he was actually married to the entire time. He wasn't just a liar; he was a monster. He lured me to a hospital under the pretense of care, only to reveal his true plan: to force me into a tissue transplant to save Hayden's life. But as I lay in that hospital bed, a prisoner waiting to be harvested, I recorded a conversation that turned my grief into rage. They hadn't just stolen my husband and my future-they had murdered my mother. They thought I was a victim they could discard. They were about to find out I was the architect of their ruin./0/20217/coverorgin.jpg?v=9ffa64796147822d5e06ab180cf40909&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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Night We Met
An aspiring photographer, Raechel Lynx, who has taken a part-time portfolio contract from a firm is set out in order to search for a model for her work and finds out a young beautiful Ocean eyed brunette young man and turns out to be her old friend she was searching for her entire life. Was it destiny or just a coincidence?/0/87485/coverorgin.jpg?v=af14b93a878b039ca88f949b218f1868&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Deception, Her Redemption
The silence in our house was heavy, broken only by the sound of my husband' s brother being lowered into the ground. A month later, the silence was replaced by something worse. My brother-in-law' s widow, Falon, was pregnant, and my husband, Cyrus, decided she was moving in with us. "It' s for the baby, Kelsey," he said, his voice flat. He didn't look at me. He was looking at Falon, who stood by the door with her single suitcase, looking pale and fragile. "She needs support. It' s my brother' s child." I watched as Falon slowly, subtly, began to take over my life. She' d wait outside the bathroom with a fresh towel for Cyrus, claiming it was habit. She' d knock on our bedroom door late at night, feigning nightmares, pulling Cyrus away for hours of "comfort." The breaking point came when I heard Cyrus massaging her swollen feet, just as her late husband used to. I dropped the knife I was holding. It clattered against the counter. I wanted to hear Cyrus say no. I wanted him to tell her that was inappropriate, that I was his wife. Instead, I heard his low, soothing voice. "Of course, Falon. Just put them up here." I had given up everything for him, becoming a "pick-me" girl, constantly seeking his approval. Now, watching him cater to her every whim, I realized I didn't even recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror. That night, I called my father. "Dad," I said, my voice shaking. "I want a divorce."/0/89988/coverorgin.jpg?v=524abe7efafbba246d6479350b2dda76&imageMogr2/format/webp)
