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Romance Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
A Mother's Strength, A Wife's Fall

A Mother's Strength, A Wife's Fall

The first thing I noticed was the ultrasound picture on my kitchen island, a grainy image signaling a future I never saw coming. My husband, David, looked pale, and beside him, his intern, Lily, barely legal and with a hand protectively over her flat stomach, smiled triumphantly. "I' m pregnant," Lily announced, "It' s David' s." The words shattered 15 years of my life. David, the man I' d sacrificed everything for, couldn' t meet my eyes. He mumbled about it "just happening." Then my fifteen-year-old adopted son, Alex, walked past me and handed Lily a glass of water, telling her, "You should sit down." He looked at me, his young face hard. "Mom, just listen. Dad made a mistake. Lily is scared. We need to be adults about this." The shock was a physical blow. Not just my husband, but my son, my Alex, was against me. Lily, seeing her advantage, spoke with false sincerity. "Sarah, I don' t want to break up your family. We can make this work. I can live here. You can help me with the baby." The audacity left me breathless. She wanted me to raise my husband' s illegitimate child in my home. My perfectly curated world dissolved into chaos. David, Lily, and Alex stood there, a new family, and I was the inconvenient, old piece. A profound cold dread spread through me. This wasn' t a crack; it was a demolition. Seven years ago, I had taken the fall for David' s career-ending mistake, losing my architectural license and, due to the stress, an ectopic pregnancy that left me unable to have children naturally. David had promised, "You are all the family I will ever need." Now, he fawned over Lily. My sacrifices, my body, my love-none of it was enough. Alex admitted he' d been covering for David and Lily for months, helping them meet. "Maybe if you were a better wife, none of this would have happened," Alex declared, his eyes full of contempt. "Maybe if you paid more attention to Dad instead of your work, he wouldn't have needed someone else." That was the final blow. I looked at their united faces. My heart didn' t just break, it turned to dust. "Get out of my house," I said, my voice dead. "All of you. I want nothing to do with you, or with it." David was speechless. I calmly opened the bottom drawer of my desk and pulled out a manila envelope. "I want a divorce," I stated, placing the papers on the coffee table. The words were final. Alex scoffed, "You have nothing without him. Where would you even go?" David tried to placate me, then offered me the house, asking me not to fight for the rest of the assets-for the baby' s sake. Then came the ultimate insult. "I think it would be best if you found somewhere else to stay," he said. "Lily' s pregnancy… all this stress isn' t good for her. Or the baby." He was kicking me out of my own home, the sanctuary I had built, to make room for his mistress. A bone-deep sadness settled over me. It wasn' t my home anymore; it was a house full of strangers. "Fine," I whispered. "I' ll be gone by the end of the week." My choice was made.
My Boss's wife

My Boss's wife

Kaylan, are you sure about this?" Jaden asked in a whisper as they crouched behind the bush, looking left and right. "Of course! Stop asking me" Kaylan replied in a husky whisper. "For the first time, I pleaded with someone not to report me to my mother, but the dump man still went ahead to paint me black. So, he needs to pay". Jaden sighed, knowing she wouldn't be able to change her best friend's mind. Kaylan looked left and right again, and when she confirmed there was no one watching, she stood up and tip-toed out of the bush. Philip's little house was right in front of her and his tables of fruits were well arranged, drawing her attention. Well, that was exactly what she was heading for. He was actually a fruit seller and she figured it must've taken him a lot of efforts to arrange those, but hell, she didn't care. He was a wicked man and needed to be thought a lesson. She got to where the table and with a little effort, she pushed it down, making the fruits roll over on the floor. Philip came out of the house immediately and his eyes dilated in shock when he found his table of fruits rolling on the floor. "What?" He flinched. "Princess Kaylan?! Princess Kaylan?!" Kaylan giggled and without much hesitation, picked two apples from the floor and ran back to the bush. "Here. Let's go" she gave one of the apples to Jaden and they started running away immediately. "Hey! Stop right there!! How dare you?!" Philip called out ran after them, but they were way faster than him. So, he couldn't catch up with them. Kaylan and Jaden laughed as they ran heavily and only stopped when they sure Philip wasn't after them anymore. "Oh my God! You're such a badass, Kaylan!" Jaden laughed so hard as they both fell on the floor, resting their back against the wall. "Well, yes. That man is so mean. The very day I'd gotten to know he'd beaten up his wife and chased her out of the house over a minor argument, that was the moment my hatred from him increased. Big fat fool" Kaylan snapped and took a huge bite from her apple And so did Jaden. "Whatever, Kaylan. Your father's warned you to stop causing trouble around. How were you able to leave the palace alone, anyway? I thought he's assigned some guards to you?" Jaden asked. "Well, I offered them drinks. But unknown to them, the drinks were poisoned" she paused and giggled. "They're fast asleep in my room at the moment". "What the...Are you kidding me, Kaylan?" They both busted into hearty laughter. The story is so sweet and lovely. Enjoy the rest of the story with a glass of wine and cookies.
His Broken Bride Is A Hidden Genius

His Broken Bride Is A Hidden Genius

Adeline's stepmother had secretly drugged her for years, turning a child genius into a drooling, mentally disabled laughingstock just so her stepsister could steal her life. But when her greedy father sold her off to Griffin Herring—a violent, untouchable billionaire psychopath—to save his company, things took a deadly turn. Before the wedding, Griffin attacked her in a dark alley, nearly snapping her neck before stealing her grandfather's silver necklace. That necklace held a micro-drive with her family's deepest secrets, and without it, she had nothing. Back at the estate, her situation only worsened. Her stepsister Damaris paraded around in the Herring family's diamond engagement gifts, trying to force-feed Adeline wet dog food on an Instagram live stream. When Adeline's calculated "clumsiness" ruined the video, her furious father locked her in a damp, rusted basement. "Give her to the psycho," her stepmother hissed through the door. "Let him lock her away forever." Listening from the shadows, Adeline's fists clenched until her palms bled. Her supposed mental fog wasn't a tragedy—it was a calculated assassination of her mind. They had destroyed her childhood and were now throwing her to a monster just to keep the billions. The dull, empty look in Adeline's eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a razor-sharp, chilling clarity. She pulled a thin surgical needle from her messy bun and picked the heavy iron padlock in ten seconds. It was time to break into the billionaire's penthouse, take back her necklace, and tear them all apart.
The Anniversay Divorce Gift

The Anniversay Divorce Gift

For five years, my marriage to Mark Johnson was a meticulously guarded secret, hidden for the sake of his booming tech career. Our fifth anniversary arrived, a date circled in red, feeling like a cruel joke. That day, the love I' d poured into him for a decade finally ran dry, replaced by a hollow ache. I typed Sarah' s number, my best friend and legal wizard. "It's time," I said, my voice betraying none of the turmoil inside me. "I need the papers." Mark was about to get an anniversary gift unlike any other: a signed divorce agreement. I left his office, the signed papers clutched in my hand, just after hearing him rush off to his adopted sister, Chloe, for yet another fabricated crisis. The realization hit me: he had married me for convenience, for the perfect image I provided, while his heart belonged to another. The following morning, I stopped making his coffee, subtly stepping away from his touch, creating an ocean of distance between us. Then, disaster struck. Chloe's "emergency" made him abandon a multi-million dollar deal, and when I, his secret wife, suffered a devastating miscarriage alone, he was absent, doting on her. The pain was a physical blow, but it burned away the last thread of hope. I was alone. I had always been alone. I cut every tie, professional and personal, making myself unsearchable, then booked a one-way ticket out of the country. Mark was forced to sign the final divorce papers himself, confirming his obliviousness. But then, he started showing up. First in Italy, then in Paris. He won't give up, claiming he loves me, but his newfound desperation only proves the truth: he wants what he can't have. Now, he' s followed me to Santorini, refusing to leave. My story isn't over. It' s just beginning.
My Ex-Wife's Bitter Brew

My Ex-Wife's Bitter Brew

The sound of shattering glass at a party wasn' t just an accident; it was a premonition. My prized, rare bourbon, Pappy Van Winkle, lay in ruins on the floor. My wife, Nicole, then still my wife, defended the smug culprit, Caleb, her childhood friend, acting as if I was the one making a scene. I banished Caleb to a remote Alaskan fishery, thinking it was a just consequence for his destructive arrogance. But Nicole' s furious promise, "You will regret this," was not an idle threat. Years later, my world crumbled when my father suffered a heart attack, the stress brought on by a hostile corporate takeover of our family' s legacy, Hughes Distillery. It was Nicole's doing, orchestrating a calculated, systematic destruction of everything I held dear. She, now a political strategist, watched impassively as our family, our history, bled out. At the Bourbon Baron's Ball, an auction for the world' s rarest spirits, I returned, a ghost of my former self, "The Palate," hoping to save us. But Nicole was there, with Caleb, radiant and triumphant, publicly announcing she'd outbid me on anything, and then, with a twisted smirk, confirming she'd stolen all my funds, leaving me humiliated and financially crippled. How could she harbor such cold, calculating hatred for a destroyed bottle? How could someone I once loved become this relentless force of vengeance? With my family's legacy teetering on the brink, I had no choice but to fight back, leveraging my last, priceless heirloom to re-enter a game I had to win.
Seven Years Gone: A New Me

Seven Years Gone: A New Me

The first thing I felt was a dull throb, the smell of antiseptic, and the piercing brightness of a hospital room. A nurse informed me I was Olivia Vance, and my husband, Alexander Vance, wasn't there. Then she mentioned another "accident" and a woman named Sophia, saying, "You'd think a man like him would have better things to do." My nurse, Emily, told me I had a concussion and a fractured wrist, and that she'd seen me a "dozen times" for pulling "stunts to get his attention." I looked down at a wedding band on my left hand – a cruel joke. I was told it was 2025. My last memory was 2018. Seven missing years. And an unfamiliar face stared back from the reflection-thin, tired, broken. My phone, filled with pictures of a cold mansion, smiling strangers, and a dangerous-looking Alexander Vance, confirmed I was married to him. Then I found the contract: an agreement signed in 2020 to be his public wife for five years in exchange for a settlement. The term was up. Scrolling through desperate, one-sided texts to him, I found a chilling message from two days ago: "He will never love you. You're just a substitute. He's with me tonight." A violent memory hit me: a yacht, Sophia Miller's poisonous voice telling me, "He's tired of you, Olivia. You were just a placeholder." Then her hands on my chest, a sudden shove, and the cold water engulfing me. The bruises, the fractured wrist, the aching ribs – all for a stranger I had apparently loved. My past was a living nightmare, but now, with a blank slate, I knew one thing: I was not bringing that broken woman back.