Romance Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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My Second Chance, His Regret
A pact sealed by my father' s death dictated that on my twenty-second birthday, I would marry a Kline and crown the next CEO. For years, I chased Brett Kline, convinced my unrequited love would eventually win his heart. But at my birthday party, he gave the bracelet meant for me to my stepsister, Juliana, right in front of everyone. "Get used to it, Faith," he sneered. "I'm about to be CEO. I can't be tied down to just one woman." He called me shameless and vicious, a disgrace to my family name. He humiliated me, cheated on me with Juliana, and demanded I accept his affairs if I wanted to be his wife. His cruelty escalated until he slapped me in public and even tried to stab me on my wedding day. In my last life, this blind devotion led to a miserable marriage. He slowly poisoned me, and I died alone while he lived happily with my stepsister. But when I opened my eyes again, I was reborn and back at that party, the moments before he was about to give my gift away. This time, I knew the truth. And I knew I wouldn't be choosing him./0/90266/coverorgin.jpg?v=8d0db191556f24a77430823b1ef029c0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Wife They Broke
My husband and son were pathologically obsessed with me, constantly testing my love by showering attention on another woman, Kassandra. My jealousy and misery were their proof of my devotion. Then came the car accident. My hand, the one that wrote award-winning film scores, was severely crushed. But Jacob and Anton chose to prioritize Kassandra' s minor head injury, leaving my career in ruins. They watched me, waiting for tears, anger, jealousy. They got nothing. I was a statue, my face a placid mask. My silence unsettled them. They continued their cruel game, celebrating Kassandra' s birthday lavishly, while I sat in a secluded corner, watching them. Jacob even ripped my deceased mother' s gold locket from my neck to give to Kassandra, who then deliberately crushed it under her heel. This wasn't love. It was a cage. My pain was their sport, my sacrifice their trophy. Lying on the cold hospital bed, waiting, I felt the love I had nurtured for years die. It withered and turned to ash, leaving behind something hard and cold. I was done. I would not fix them. I would escape. I would destroy them./0/83682/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106202720&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Beyond Betrayal: Reclaiming Her Legacy
I stood outside my apartment, key in hand, preparing for my late mother's annual charity gala-the most important night of my year. Suddenly, Liam's voice seeped through the wood-my boyfriend of four years. "Don't worry, Chloe. I'll handle her." He confessed he was canceling on my gala for my manipulative cousin, proudly declaring he' d "manage" me. My world shattered. Four years of my life, a carefully constructed façade, all for a favor to Chloe. He didn't inquire about my well-being, only about public appearances. Chloe later brazenly flaunted him online, laying public claim. The betrayal deepened when they explicitly left me behind for a family trip, Liam's car overflowing with Chloe' s luggage, with no room for me. My uncle then explicitly warned me to stay in my "lane," sneeringly dismissing me. The ultimate humiliation came when Chloe shoved me into the pool, shrieking I tried to drown her, while Liam rushed to her rescue, leaving me to sink. Could this truly be my life? Constantly dismissed, betrayed, abandoned, and blamed for the cruelties of others? The injustice burned, transforming my grief into a cold, hard clarity. But then, a sleek black Tesla glided to a stop beside me. "Need a ride, Clara?" Julian Vance, a figure from my distant past, calmly asked. He didn't just save me from walking; he dropped a bombshell that ripped through my two-faced family' s schemes, revealing a secret engagement and finally arming me with the power to reclaim my life./0/85039/coverorgin.jpg?v=695df8c8e2a9cd62a6bd249a48d6b356&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Betrayal That Broke Us
My life with Julian was a decade-long fairytale, a testament to building an empire from nothing. He was the charismatic face, I was the quiet strategist; together, we were Thorne Industries, a force to be reckoned with. Then, a call from a school nurse shattered it all. "Is this Mrs. Thorne?" she asked, her voice rushed. I corrected her, a polite smile on my face. "It's Ms. Vance, actually. Is everything okay with Ethan?" "Ethan? No, ma'am. This is about your son, Leo Thorne." Leo Thorne. A name I didn't recognize, a son I didn't have. My world tilted. The nurse was calling for Julian's legal wife, Chloe-a woman I knew as his executive assistant, a woman whose eyes always lingered on him a little too long. Chloe, his wife, and mother to his son, Leo. The word "wife" echoed in my silent office, a brutal, horrifying truth. Every late night he supposedly worked, every solo business trip, twisted into a grotesque betrayal. Before I could even process this seismic shift, a sharp cramp seized me, followed by another. Blood. Our baby. Julian's betrayal was killing our child. When I woke up, the baby was gone. Julian, playing the grieving husband, told me it was my fault, "the stress." He acted the part, even as he tried to frame my miscarriage for his mistress and their son, a son he' d had for years, a whole life hidden from me. Then, Liam Sterling, my competitor and old college friend, sent an envelope. Inside were photos: Julian, Chloe, and two children, Leo and a girl I didn't know, a picture of a perfect family. And a text from Chloe: "Heard about the baby. Too bad. Some wombs just aren't meant to hold on." My fury, cold and clear, solidified into a single, diamond-hard resolve. They would pay. Julian, the monster, and Chloe, who had just admitted something far worse: she was the drunk driver who killed my mother four years ago, and Julian had covered it up. He thought I was weak. He thought I wouldn't fight. He was wrong. My voice recorder, hidden beneath my pillow, captured his monstrous plan: "Once Elara's baby is born, we'll tell her it died. Then we'll register the baby as ours." He was going to steal my child. The rage was a firestorm. I called Liam Sterling. "I want to destroy Julian Thorne. I want him to lose everything. And I want her in jail for the rest of her life." The game was on./0/58453/coverorgin.jpg?v=1a0401ec8ff8dfef02ad87df8df0cbec&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Rebirth: Redefining My Fate
In the previous life, I was framed for cheating in the college entrance examination and was banned from taking the exam for three years. My future was completely ruined. My twin sister, on the other hand, successfully got into the USC School of Cinematic Arts and became a top female star in the entertainment industry, while I worked in a factory screwing screws. After work, I was robbed and killed in the outskirts with no one to claim my body. After being reborn, I kept my sister's admission ticket. I reported the human traffickers' parents to the police./0/88520/coverorgin.jpg?v=611424266f38ae1e616702fb3782a8d7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Secret Shame, His Public Affair
On my wedding night, my new husband, Jameson, was blackout drunk. My best friend of twenty years, Caren, texted me practical advice: give him honey water and let him sleep it off. But just as he quieted down, he pulled me close, his breath hot on my neck. "I love you so, so much, Caren," he whispered. Then I saw it. A tattoo I'd never seen before, a single letter 'C' inked directly over his heart. The next morning, my birthday, Caren showed up with a cake, her smile as sweet as poison. After one bite, my throat began to close. Peanuts. She knew I was deathly allergic. As I gasped for air, Jameson's first instinct wasn't to help me, but to defend her. He stood between us, his face a mask of fury. "What is your problem with her?" he demanded, blind to the fact that his wife was suffocating in front of him. I stumbled, trying to reach my EpiPen, but he grabbed my arm, yanking me back. "You are going to apologize to Caren right now!" With the last of my strength, I slapped him across the face. "I'm pregnant," I rasped. "And I can't breathe."/0/89213/coverorgin.jpg?v=c48768381d82b76d4ea0f39656970b34&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Five Years, One Devastating Lie
My husband was in the shower, the sound of water a familiar rhythm to our mornings. I was just placing a cup of coffee on his desk, a small ritual in our five years of what I thought was a perfect marriage. Then, an email notification flashed on his laptop: "You're invited to the Christening of Leo Thomas." Our last name. The sender: Hayden Cleveland, a social media influencer. An icy dread settled in. It was an invitation for his son, a son I didn't know existed. I went to the church, hidden in the shadows, and saw him holding a baby, a little boy with his dark hair and eyes. Hayden Cleveland, the mother, leaned on his shoulder, a picture of domestic bliss. They looked like a family. A perfect, happy family. My world crumbled. I remembered him refusing to have a baby with me, citing work pressure. All his business trips, the late nights-were they spent with them? The lie was so easy for him. How could I have been so blind? I called the Zurich Architectural Fellowship, a prestigious program I had deferred for him. "I' d like to accept the fellowship," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I can leave immediately."/1/114225/coverorgin.jpg?v=e850dfa96b0271c3d50eee60a2053f72&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Filthy F*ck Dreams
Every story in this collection is a direct line to your own wanting, each read leaves you drenched, and craving more thighs pressed together, breath caught in your throat. From a stranger's fingers finding you in a crowded bar to the slow, devastating unraveling of a woman on her knees, these are the moments you'll return to, again and again, until you're trembling. Warning: "Not for the faint of heart-only for the Dirty Slut-Seekers who crave the filth. Open the book only when you're ready to be ruined, and consumed by your filthy fantasies./0/97544/coverorgin.jpg?v=791ddee5c8f4f3e401cf90b82f548cd1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Ex-Wife Came Back-Stronger
"Listen, I'm tired of this marriage. We only got married because I needed a wife to secure my CEO position, and now that it's settled, you're not useful to me anymore." My husband, Dale, said to my face, nothing close to guilt flashing in his expression. And that was when I knew... I really was nothing to him. With tears in my eyes, I signed the divorce papers and left. Left his house. Left his family. Left his life. But not without a promise to myself. A promise that no matter what, I would come back. I would come back stronger. The nobody they see me as, will come back as somebody. Somebody they'd all need. ....... Chloe Dave thought life loved her when she got married to Dale Beldson, the hottest man on earth and her long crush. That was proven wrong, when what was supposed to be a happy marriage, turned to a depressing one, with a husband that rarely acknowledged her existence. Still, she held on to the hope that if he'd chosen to marry her, there'd be something in there. Some emotions in there. That died the moment his bestfriend, Nora framed her for laundry and attempted murder, and he chose to believe Nora over her. Even after all her pleas, he still refused to give heed to her. He saw her as a nobody. His family saw her as one. That was when Chloe vowed to come back and shock the world. Shock Dale Beldson, her ex-husband./0/92828/coverorgin.jpg?v=fcd11dfd4345ea38069f3c1f273fec02&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Unseen Heir, Her Escape
My husband stood me up on the biggest night of my career—my first solo art exhibition. I found him on the news, shielding another woman from a storm of cameras while the entire gallery watched my world collapse. His text was a final, cold slap in the face: "Kacie needs me. You'll be fine." For years, he'd called my art a "hobby," forgetting it was the foundation of his billion-dollar company. He had made me invisible. So I called my lawyer with a plan to use his arrogance against him. "Make the divorce papers look like a boring IP release form," I told her. "He'll sign anything to get me out of his office."/0/82648/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106200941&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Faked Death, My True Love
My eyes snapped open. Sunlight streamed through familiar curtains in what was undeniably my childhood bedroom on a military base. But a stark, chilling truth hit me: I died. I vividly remembered fire, twisted metal, and then a profound, cold darkness. My father, General Miller, walked in, his voice deep and reassuring. "Sarah, you're awake. We need to talk about your future." He began to speak of Captain Mark Olsen, the perfect, ambitious officer everyone expected me to choose. The name was a bitter taste. Because in my first life, I married Mark. Then came the devastating news: killed in action. The grief consumed me. I stopped living, leading to my own tragic car accident months later. My world ended. But it wasn't true. As a lingering spirit, I watched my world shatter while his continued. Mark, alive and vibrant, laughing with Tiffany Evans, his arm around her. They had faked his death, eloped, and built a long, happy life together, completely discarding the woman who died for him. The rage, the profound betrayal, morphed from a cold fire to a precise, icy shard in my chest. Why did I endure such suffering, such a cruel end, while they basked in their deceitful bliss? The injustice was unbearable. But this was it. My second chance. A precious, impossible gift. This time, there would be no Mark Olsen. This time, I' d choose differently. This time, my life wouldn' t end in ashes./0/83133/coverorgin.jpg?v=30d09110554338391f74221a59dd3b13&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Obsessed: A Second Chance Thriller
June 14th. The date burned into my mind like a brand. I woke in my bed, David still asleep beside me, and saw the familiar sunlight pouring through the window. This was the day. The day everything began to unravel in my last life. In that life, my sorority sister, my supposed best friend Brittany, systematically destroyed me. She poisoned David's mind against me, tried to steal him, and when he rejected her, she drove us straight into a deadly accident. I died. My life, my love, extinguished by her venomous jealousy. The betrayal was a cold, constant ache. To be eliminated by the person you confided in, the one you loved like a sister, simply because she couldn't have what was yours. It wasn't just a car crash; it was an assassination engineered by a twisted mind. I died feeling utterly helpless, unjustly robbed of my future. But this time, I wouldn't be a victim. This time, I had a second chance, a do-over. I sat bolt upright, heart thumping not with fear, but with fierce determination. "David," I whispered, shaking him awake. "We need to get married. Today. Right now." I was back, and this time, I would rewrite my fate, starting by securing my future./0/80030/coverorgin.jpg?v=4af3650eafc7cb6c024203992f7af31b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When His Ex Walked Back In
For three years, I was Ava Chen, an architect indispensable to Marcus Thorne by day, and his secret, devoted lover by night, clinging to a desperate hope he’d finally see me. Then, his glamorous ex-fiancée, Isabelle Duval, reappeared. Marcus’s public adoration for her was a public discard of me, shattering every fragile hope. The office became her stage for my degradation. Isabelle, bathed in Marcus’s favoring eye, physically and emotionally abused me—from demanding dog water to feigning accidental spills of scalding coffee. Each time, Marcus, the man I loved, sided with her, his eyes cold, devoid of concern for my pain. The ultimate betrayal came at a company party. Isabelle publicly ripped my dress, falsely branding me a thief. Marcus, watching all, then told me, his voice flat and final: "Ava, perhaps it’s best you go home. You’re just not important enough to make a fuss over." Not important enough? After years of silent devotion and secret partnership, was that truly all I amounted to in his eyes? Broken, humiliated, and stripped of dignity, I packed my life. The next day, I resigned. I didn’t just quit Thorne & Sterling; I walked away from New York, from Marcus Thorne, and from the broken woman I’d become. But the question remains: Can I truly heal from such a wound and finally find my own irreducible worth?/0/84250/coverorgin.jpg?v=474d80ab00e42ff50fca216c0eb069df&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Scorned Wife's Sweet Revenge
On our third wedding anniversary, I came home expecting celebration, not devastation. I found my husband, Anthony, in our bed with another woman, his young intern, Tiffany. He didn' t flinch, didn't apologize, but mocked me, offering an "open marriage" as if adultery was a new trend. As I walked away, their laughter followed, hammering nails into the coffin of my foolish dreams. But that was just the beginning of the nightmare; outside my family home, I overheard my father. He conspired with my stepmother, admitting he had "sold" me to Anthony, using my innocent high school diary entries to manipulate me into the marriage for his own financial gain. Then, my mother's precious heirlooms, pawned to pay my father's medical bills, were lost forever when the shop mysteriously burned down, a fire orchestrated by Anthony himself. When I nearly died from an allergic reaction, deliberately triggered by Tiffany, Anthony, witnessing my collapse, simply wrapped his arm around her and walked away. My world shattered, piece by agonizing piece, leaving me with nothing but betrayal and ashes. How could the man I loved, and my own father, be so utterly devoid of humanity? This wasn't just a breakup; it was a reckoning. And I was about to turn my brokenness into an unstoppable force./0/26220/coverorgin.jpg?v=34f1937417d81ee04f94c915de4913d6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Divorced Barren Mother Gives Birth To Six Babies
Amy didn't expect that her husband whom she had loved and trusted earnestly for many years would be cheating on her by having sex with his secretary. When she confronted him, he and his secretary mocked and ridiculed her, they called her barren to her face, afterall, she had not conceived for the past three years that she had been married to her husband, Callan. Terribly Heartbroken, she filed for divorce and left to the club, she picked a random gigolo, had a hot one night stand with him, paid him and dissapeared to a small city. She came back to the country six years later with three identical cute boys and three identical cute girls of the same age. She settled and got a job but soon find out that her CEO was the gigolo she had sex with six years back at the club. Will she be able to hide her six little cuties from her CEO, who happens to be the most powerful man in NorthHill and beleived to be infertile? Can Amy and the most powerful man in NorthHill get along considering the social gap between them./0/84556/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106204837&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Fifth Anniversary
The scent of roasted chicken, Liam' s favorite, filled the house on our fifth wedding anniversary. My smile froze as I pushed open our bedroom door, finding Liam in another woman' s arms, her clothes a mess on our floor. He blamed my alleged infertility-a trauma from an old car accident-for his betrayal, as his mother, Katherine Thorne, and his pregnant mistress, Chloe Bell, joined forces to paint me as unhinged and demand I relinquish everything. How could the life I meticulously pieced together shatter so completely, so cruelly, for a lie thrown carelessly as an excuse? But as he grabbed my wrist, a cold calm settled over me, replacing heartbreak with a searing rage. I would not just survive this; I would burn his world to the ground./0/81953/coverorgin.jpg?v=22608b180fb26344a58010640527bc0b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Lie That Lived With Us
Just a week after my son Leo was born, as I navigated the raw grief of losing my parents and the overwhelming exhaustion of new motherhood, a seemingly innocuous email landed in my inbox, poised to shatter the quiet sanctuary of my inherited Boston home. Addressed to "Ms. Sarah Connelly, parent of Maya," it was a welcome message from the city's most prestigious charter school-for a child I didn't know, shockingly enrolled using my name and my address, a stunt orchestrated by none other than my own husband, Mark, for his colleague Brenda's daughter. His casual dismissals-"She' s a struggling single mom," "She' s vital to my team," said with infuriating nonchalance-masked outright gaslighting, culminating in a public display of affection where Brenda flaunted the custom anniversary watch I'd bought him, proving his betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. How could the man I loved, the partner who once climbed an icy fire escape to comfort me in my darkest hour, betray me so audaciously, choosing a manipulative colleague over his wife and newborn son, then abandon us when she needed him again? But betrayal cannot break what is truly yours. My house, my name, my son. The first call was to my lawyer. This was no longer just about anger; it was about reclaiming my life, exposing their manipulative scheme, and building a new future on my terms, brick by painful brick./0/86903/coverorgin.jpg?v=2ef97cb58b18c57e32347abcc01652de&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Eight Years, A Single Word
The sharp, twisting pain woke me from a dead sleep. Ethan wasn't home, and his phone was answered by Chloe, my husband' s childhood friend. She dismissed my agony, urging me not to be "so dramatic" before hanging up, leaving me alone to dial 911 through blinding pain. At the hospital, the doctor's words blurred: "Ectopic pregnancy. Ruptured. Internal bleeding. Immediate operation." The nurse couldn't reach Ethan, so I signed the consent form myself, a single tear tracing a path down my cheek. I was truly alone. I woke in a sterile room; the baby was gone. Ethan's voicemail mocked me, calling me "dramatic" and "jealous," accusing me of making "everything about myself." My despair was a vast, silent ocean, and I was drowning. Yet, a cold realization clicked: I was merely a bystander in my own marriage, overshadowed by Chloe and Mrs. Davis. The cold clinical words of my medical report, "Ruptured Ectopic Pregnancy. Emergency Salpingectomy," became my shield. I sent the picture to Ethan. His text, "Is this some kind of joke?" followed by "I'll compensate you for whatever you feel you' ve lost," twisted the knife. Compensate me? As if our baby was a business deal gone wrong. How could he be so blind, so cruel? I typed a single word: "Okay." Then, I turned off my phone, packing up eight years of my life, leaving only a ghost of what we once were./0/84386/coverorgin.jpg?v=681e15e6ef310c121cb4df5cf84d6a2f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Toxic Love, My Masterpiece
For three years, my Nashville apartment was a vibrant storm of Jenny' s laughter and music, a shared dream with my girlfriend. But on our anniversary, the silence screamed louder than any note when her text popped up: "Jenny Smith has blocked you." It was Caleb, her narcissistic best friend, throwing another tantrum, and I was the sacrificial lamb again. I thought I knew the script-her swift unblock, the empty apologies, the constant cycle of her choosing him over me. Then, on my birthday, Jenny dropped to one knee, a beautiful Gibson guitar in her hand, proposing right in front of our entire social circle. Suddenly, Caleb' s shrill voice tore through the room from her phone, berating her for daring to get engaged without his "blessing." Without a second thought, she snatched the holy grail guitar back from my hands and declared, "The party's over!" leaving me humiliated and empty-handed. The next day, Caleb posted a video of him smashing a replica of that very guitar, calling it "trash," followed by Jenny gifting him a diamond-inlaid one, saying, "My girl knows who really matters." How could someone who claimed to love me treat me like collateral damage, over and over, all for the approval of a spoiled, vindictive man-child? I blocked them all, packed my battered guitar, and called Sylvia Hewitt, the legendary producer, ready for a new beginning./0/80884/coverorgin.jpg?v=55fe126fd92ef2c36060da37e1ac35d1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
