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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
The Call He Never Answered

The Call He Never Answered

At my company' s anniversary party, my husband Mark, beaming, played a game with his assistant, Lily, a cookie balanced on his forehead. As the room erupted in applause when he succeeded, I cheered, "Go, Mark!" The room fell silent. Lily' s smile vanished, her eyes welling with tears as she whimpered, "Oh, Mark." Mark, furious, snapped at me, "What' s wrong with you, Olivia? You always have to ruin everything. You're such a killjoy. So boring." Then, in front of everyone-our colleagues and friends-he bent down and kissed Lily, deeply and passionately. On our tenth wedding anniversary, watching Mark kiss another woman, I felt absolutely nothing. Later, Lily, riding comfortably in the passenger seat of our car, flashed a sickeningly sweet smile and called me "Sis-in-law." I remembered Mark once scoffing at my handmade charm, saying it didn' t match his car' s style, yet he found a custom pink paint job acceptable. The next morning, Lily posted a photo of red roses on Instagram: "This big silly man always remembers my birthday." In the corner, my wedding ring rested on a man' s hand. When Mark returned, he joked, "What' s the occasion? You even made a cake?" He then smeared frosting on my cheek, remarking on the cake' s poor presentation. If this had happened any other year, I would have screamed and cried. Instead, I calmly dumped the cake in the trash. He tried to appease me with expensive jewelry, a routine apology after every fight. But when I saw Lily' s text on his phone-"Mark, I had so much fun tonight, see you tomorrow~"-he erupted in a rage. He shoved me, throwing me off balance. My arm sliced on the coffee table, and my ankle twisted. He simply muttered, "For God' s sake, Olivia," before rushing to Lily' s side after she called him, leaving me injured and alone. Why did he care more about her fake sickness than my real injury? I was numb. I was utterly done. What else could I do but finally set myself free? That night, for the first time in a decade, I slept soundly, knowing I had made the right decision. My life had to change.
The Annoying Ghost

The Annoying Ghost

"Don't waste those tears on people who don't deserve you." A baritone voice lifted my head from my bow. The tall man was standing and leaning against the wall and had a fist. He was wearing a simple white polo shirt and slacks. It's beautiful, elegant and smooth---I'm even overwhelmed by the whiteness. "W-Who are you?" Wait. It's familiar. He's... He's the vocalist of a famous band and a car racer that's in the news because he had an accident and is now comatose! Shit! I was suddenly nervous. My tears spontaneously stopped falling when I met the man and were replaced by... fear. Even though it's handsome, it's still a ghost. Geez. There was a trace of shock on the man's face. "Do you see me?" "That's a ghost..." Putcha! I'm still afraid of ghosts, shit. A smile suddenly appeared on his lips. "Scared?" "H-Don't come near me!" Well, I don't have Holy Water! I was confused when he suddenly stepped closer to me. I want to stand up and run, but I can't move, probably because my knees are weak. But my heart beat even faster when he bent slightly so that our faces were level. His gray eyes stared at me. His nose is pointed, his eyebrows are thick, his lips are red, and his face is smooth. I couldn't help but praise him in my mind. Now he knows how many women are mourning him now. "It's ugly to cry." All of a sudden, my fear disappeared and was replaced by annoyance at his words. "What did you say?!" "The. ugly. you. turned out to. cry." How dare you repeat it! He moved away from me and laughed. I was insulted by his laugh. Even though I am like this, I can be proud of my beauty. Then... Grrrr. I looked at him badly and felt annoyed. "Calm down ugly. Your nose is smoking oh, pffft." I have stood up. The jaw clenched. "If you're ugly you're handsome?! If I'm ugly you're even uglier! shit!" I marched out and slammed the door shut. I still heard his laugh which annoyed me even more. If he wasn't a ghost, I would have really punched him in the face. But I can only say one thing.. That annoying ghost is totally a fucking jerk!
The Heart Condition That Wasn't

The Heart Condition That Wasn't

My life was stable. I had a good tech job, a beautiful home in Seattle, and a decade-long marriage with Jessica, who I thought was the love of my life. She was supposed to be on an overseas work assignment, a big career move we celebrated. Then the key turned in the lock-a sound I hadn' t heard in two years. And she wasn't alone. She pushed a double stroller into our living room. "Michael," she calmly announced, "meet Leo and Lily. They' re mine. And Ethan' s." Ethan. Her high school sweetheart, the one she always said was terminally ill and she was just "helping." My heart jumped, then plummeted. For ten years, Jessica had told me her heart condition made pregnancy too dangerous. I believed her, mourned the children we couldn't have. Now, she waved a dismissive hand, "My doctor said IVF was perfectly safe." Then she handed me a baby, telling me to quit my demanding job. "They need a stay-at-home dad. My work is too important right now." It got worse. I found intimate emails between her and Ethan spanning years, even our wedding anniversary. And a second mortgage on our house, taken out without my knowledge, the money likely gone to him. The final, gut-wrenching blow: I followed her to a honky-tonk bar. There, Jessica, who claimed to hate country music and beer, was line-dancing, beaming up at Ethan-tanned, fit, and very much alive. The woman I married was a stranger. My world was built on a decade of calculated lies. Whatever I felt for her shriveled up and died. I was done arguing on her terms. The next morning, I had divorce papers drawn up. I wouldn' t let her destroy me. I would reclaim my life.
The Runaway Heiress And Her Monster

The Runaway Heiress And Her Monster

With twelve dollars in my bank account and a freezing apartment, my friend forced me into a velvet dress to attend an exclusive underground party for free food. But the night quickly turned into a nightmare when a drunk thug attacked me, nearly strangling me to death in a dark hallway. Just as my lungs burned for air, a terrifying man stepped out of the shadows and shattered my attacker's bones. He was Axel Carrillo, the billionaire owner of the club. But instead of feeling safe, my blood ran cold. His dark, dead eyes perfectly mirrored the wealthy monster who had abused and locked me in a basement years ago. He trapped me in his VIP room, surrounding me with the elite crowd that openly mocked my poverty. I didn't understand why this ruthless billionaire was looking at me like a predator watching its prey. I had barely escaped the nightmare of the rich once; I wasn't going to let another powerful man own my life. Faking a twisted ankle, I stumbled forward, falling directly into his chest. In less than a second, I expertly slipped the thick money clip and custom leather wallet from his pocket, grabbed my broken stilettos, and ran blindly into the freezing night. I used his crisp hundred-dollar bills to pay my overdue rent, locking his silver-crested wallet in my desk drawer. What I didn't know was that Axel had let me steal it, smiling in the dark as he whispered to his security. "Let her keep the bait."
The Discarded Wife's Return

The Discarded Wife's Return

Our crystal chandeliers glittered in our San Francisco mansion. It was our tenth anniversary party, a celebration of a decade of my supposedly perfect marriage. Then, Richard stood by the grand staircase, his arm around a visibly pregnant woman I didn’t recognize. Jessica Wang, his new PR manager, beamed, placing a hand on her belly. His voice, smooth and practiced, silenced the room as he announced, “Emily and I are expecting!” The ensuing wave of murmurs and Jessica’s proud smile clarified the brutal truth. The humiliation was immediate and public. But nothing compared to the depths of his callous disregard that followed. He forced me to move into a guest room, demanded I cater to his mistress's whims, and even stepped over me when I collapsed from a heart attack. The ultimate betrayal came when he *forced* me, with my rare O-negative blood and congenital heart defect, to undergo a medically dangerous blood donation – for *her*. My life force, my very existence, was merely a disposable convenience for his new family. I was supposed to be a devoted wife, yet how could the man I spent ten years with be so utterly monstrous, so devoid of basic humanity? But as I lay weak in the hospital, gasping for air, a quiet defiance ignited within me. With my meticulously accumulated 'freedom fund,' and the unwavering clandestine support of a loyal friend, I knew this wasn't just an escape. I was going to dismantle his meticulously built empire, piece by excruciating piece, finally reclaiming my life.
The Fake Wedding, A Real Betrayal

The Fake Wedding, A Real Betrayal

Six years with Olivia Hayes, and we were finally making it official. I clutched our marriage certificate, crisp and new, ready to file the final paperwork at the city clerk' s office. Then, the clerk told me the document was fake. My heart sank. Olivia Hayes, my fiancée, had been legally married two weeks ago-to Mark Johnson, my former best friend and a tech mogul. I returned home to find Olivia humming, laying out macarons, a picture of domestic bliss, a complete lie. I later overheard her confessing on the phone how she never truly loved me; I was just "comfortable," a placeholder for Mark. My carefully constructed future shattered, replaced by cold certainty: I was leaving. But leaving wasn't easy. Mark' s neediness spiraled, turning our home into his stage. He faked injuries, weaponized his sadness, and Olivia, caught in his web, defended him fiercely, even bringing up my deceased father' s suicide to shame me. Her constant choice of him, and the chilling realization that my pain mattered less than his performance, twisted the knife deeper. Why did she keep falling for his lies? Why did her compassion vanish when it came to me? My escape plan to Seattle was set. But just as I was leaving, Mark' s ex-girlfriend, Sarah, attacked me. Olivia, seeing Sarah with a knife to my throat, still chose to believe Mark' s pathetic accusation that I staged it. That final betrayal solidified my decision. I blocked Olivia and left for Seattle, ready to start anew, free from her and Mark' s toxic charade.