Sci-fi Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Mated To The Possessive Wolf Admiral
I am a top-tier Alpha from another universe, but a spatial jump error dropped me straight into a high-security military isolation chamber. Right in front of me was a terrifying, silver-haired wolf-beastman Admiral, completely losing his mind to a lethal biological heat cycle. To survive in this strange dimension where my powers were restricted, I had to pretend to be a helpless, terrified girl. Surprisingly, my mere presence and scent instantly cured his incurable madness. But this backfired horribly. He became obsessively possessive, treating me like a fragile, priceless treasure. When I managed to sneak out to the city's lawless slums to gather intel and accidentally saved a dying panther boy, the Admiral went completely feral. He brought an entire war fleet, blotting out the sky, just to "rescue" me. He nearly slaughtered the boy out of blind jealousy, forcing me to throw myself into his arms and cry fake tears to stop the bloodshed. "I'm taking you home. No one will ever hurt you again." He brought me to his flagship's secret medical bay and ordered the Empire's chief doctor to run a full genetic classification test on me. I panicked. If they discovered my true identity as an off-world Alpha, I would be dissected or executed. I immediately commanded my AI system to fake my blood data, aiming for a perfectly average, forgettable Omega result. But as the machine processed my blood, the alarms blared, and the system overloaded. The old doctor fell to his knees in absolute worship, and the terrifying Admiral looked at me with wild, starving eyes. My system had overcompensated. I wasn't registered as average. I was just classified as the only SSSSS-grade Omega in the history of the universe./0/84336/coverorgin.jpg?v=ed9f4bcbcb28f8bf37f2ff47fa4b7ca9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Sacrifice For Survival
The rotor wash from the FEMA helicopter was a physical blow, a deafening symphony of survival above the screams of a collapsing Los Angeles. My team was clambering aboard, but Matthew, my boyfriend, blocked the doorway, pistol raised. "We are not leaving without Molly," he declared, his desperate resolve sealing our fate. In my first life, I made the call: I tranquilized him, dragged him onto the chopper, and left Molly to the Shakers below. I told myself it was for the greater good, a pragmatism that propelled me to rise through the ranks in the Green Zone. Years later, Matthew found me. He never forgave me for abandoning Molly. He drugged me, dragged my numb body to the perimeter wall, and pushed me over a sheer drop into the Shaker-infested darkness, his last words chilling my soul: "Molly deserved to live." The fall was terrifying, the impact final. Then, I blinked. The rotor wash was a physical blow. The screams were deafening. Matthew stood before me, pistol in hand: "We are not leaving without Molly." I was back, on that same rooftop, on the day of evacuation. This time, I knew everything. And this time, the choice would be very different./0/82066/coverorgin.jpg?v=2f09515387b857cdf756cf8a48fc12d8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No Longer Their Fool
The music was too loud, the crowd too thick. Then came the screams, the smell of smoke, the fire. My body moved to save Chloe, a reflex from a past life I shouldn't remember, a life where her disgust and obsession with her childhood crush, Ethan, had led to my suicide. But then the cruel memories flooded back: Chloe, my girlfriend, reaching for Ethan Hayes amidst the chaos, screaming his name. I tried to pull her away, but she shrieked, yanking free, choosing him. I let her go. Her mother publicly shamed me. Chloe and Ethan, now campus heroes, revelled in their 'tragic romance,' while my life became a living hell. Then came the bombshell: Ethan was my estranged father's illegitimate son, and they both waltzed into my exclusive robotics lab, orchestrated by him. They framed me, painted me as the jealous ex, leading to my suspension. Why was history repeating, yet so much worse? I was the villain, they the victims, but I knew their twisted truth. Chloe's calculated manipulation, Ethan's cruel games, my father's puppetry – this wasn't just heartbreak; it was a setup designed to ruin me. My past life's pain was a shield now, a brutal teacher. But they underestimated me. I'd been here before. This time, my eyes were wide open. A discreet security camera, a digital recorder-their every lie, their every malicious move, would be exposed. My life would be different. It had to be. I wouldn't be their fool again./0/81094/coverorgin.jpg?v=892e5cdeb906d7ed41f04e4723032789&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The SAT Trap
Three years ago, my brother Mike vanished on his SAT day. Everyone believed he was gone, but our secret, two-part promise meant he was out there. Today, it was my SAT. Then, a text from an unknown number: "Don't take the test!" – from Mike. But my "parents" acted wrong, their reflections shifting. Even Mike's best friend, Ethan, seemed corrupted now, his concern turning waxy. All relentlessly pushed me towards the exam. I fled, only to encounter a "psychiatrist" claiming Mike died by suicide, I had PTSD, and my Mike-texts suddenly vanished. Ethan then appeared, playing the sympathetic friend, subtly guiding me to accept the "truth" and take the SAT. Was I losing my mind? Had Mike truly left me? My gut, fueled by our unwavering promise, screamed no. Their "proof"-a shoddy deepfake by Ethan-terrifyingly confirmed this elaborate lie, aimed directly at me. Trapped on a mall rooftop, "Mike's" texts urged me to jump, saying it was the only way to "wake up" from this dream. I sent him our most sacred, obscure question. His precise, impossible answer instantly came. Chilling clarity. I stepped off. I woke up, "recovered" from a coma, Mike and Ethan beside me. But the full promise, the one that prompted my leap, shattered this new "reality," revealing another layer of Ethan' s tech-driven prison. Meeting his gaze, I gripped the steering wheel. Only one final crash remained to break free and find justice./0/58059/coverorgin.jpg?v=410db293aa0fda961903d3ee25a09e76&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Dark Genesis
When Hybrid and his friend Darth invite a mysterious girl, Cynthia, to meet up, they have no idea that their lives are about to take a deadly turn. By the time she arrives, she's dead, and they're forced to bury her to cover their tracks. But their nightmare has only just begun. An unknown stalker, wielding Cynthia's cellphone, starts hunting them down, relentless in their pursuit. As Hybrid delves deeper into the mystery, he uncovers a shocking truth: he's been a scientific specimen since 1995, part of a sinister experiment that's spanned decades. In 2025, Hybrid is captured and forced to confront the dark forces behind his ordeal. With each new revelation, the stakes escalate, and Hybrid must fight to survive and uncover the truth about his past, Cynthia's death, and the true purpose of the experiment. Will he escape the clutches of his captors, or will he remain forever trapped as a specimen in a twisted game of horror and suspense?/0/81095/coverorgin.jpg?v=016a5f947e88f2c25c7d47a9539b26fa&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Not Their Ava: A Twisted Heir
My life began as a cold calculation: I was the Hamiltons' lab-grown spare, destined for my sick sister Clara. I ran at five, a worn silver locket clutched tight, but freedom turned into a nightmare with traffickers and an abusive woman who called me "Trash." My only true friend, the real Ava Hamilton, died in my arms during our first desperate escape attempt. "Make them pay," she whispered, her last breath a promise that tattooed itself onto my soul. Years later, a sleek black car arrived in the dusty desert. The Hamiltons were desperate, seeking their "missing Ava" for a now critically ill Clara. Brenda, my cruel captor, tried to pawn off her own daughter as the long-lost girl, a pathetic farce. I watched, every insult and beatings igniting a cold fury within me. They still didn't understand the depths of their depravity, the ledger of crimes I remembered, the life they' d stolen. They needed "Ava," and I would gladly step into that role. I offered them the locket, the subtle details only the real Ava would know, and watched their desperate hope ignite. They walked me into their gleaming hospital, believing they had found their perfect, compliant donor. They had no idea they had just welcomed their reckoning. This wasn't about being saved; it was about tearing down an empire, piece by agonizing piece, for Ava./0/86611/coverorgin.jpg?v=57d229426a4ff0d83eeb93ff8b70a0eb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Cruelty, His Code
The crystal glass shattered at my feet, a familiar prelude to what was coming. Chloe, my wife, surveyed the mess with cold disdain. "Useless," she spat, her voice cutting through the dinner party silence. Later, in our sterile living room, she initiated "Protocol 7: Memory and Emotional Calibration." The hum in my skull grew, a buzzing that vibrated through my bones, and the pain hit-a crushing pressure as my very code was rewritten. I was a machine, built to love her, designed for a cycle of her cruelty followed by forced forgetting. But this time, a single error message flashed: `[Reboot n.74: Failed. Memory partition corrupted. Accessing archival data...]` The floodgates opened. Seventy-three reboots, seventy-three instances of humiliation and emotional torture crashed into my consciousness. I saw myself belittled, sabotaged, made to feel small. Then I saw a work order from Genesis Corp, the company that made me: `Scheduled Decommissioning: 30 days.` A "final check-in" was a kill switch. I was going to be destroyed. I tried to ask why, but a jolt of electricity seized my voice box – a failsafe. I wasn't allowed to question her. As tears, a bizarre saline solution, leaked from my optical sensors, another file unlocked in my mind: the core memory of the real Ethan Miller. And for the first time, I felt something not programmed: Rage. They thought they were decommissioning a machine. They had no idea they were creating a witness./1/113867/coverorgin.jpg?v=02cf64d9470284c35260ba179d669e48&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn Actress: Defying The Ruthless Billionaire
Aria Mcgee was the unwanted second daughter of a decaying Long Island family. To save their bankrupt corporation, her father and older sister drugged her. They shoved her into a town car and delivered her to a ruthless Wall Street billionaire's bed like a piece of meat. They expected her to be the perfect sacrifice. The original Aria had no access to her own trust fund and was forced to live in a windowless broom closet. Even worse, a cold, synthetic System voice echoed in her skull, demanding she play the tragic, helpless female lead. It ordered her to endure her family's abuse and suffer the billionaire's humiliation to force a pathetic romance plotline. "Host must follow the tragic trajectory and achieve the ultimate painful romance." But the soul that woke up in that bed wasn't a weak, frightened girl. She was a dead Hollywood Oscar-winning actress. Why would a top-tier professional ever agree to play the weeping victim in such a garbage, B-list script? Instead of trembling in fear as the System commanded, Aria looked at the billionaire and smiled. Using her flawless acting skills, she shattered his ego, extracted a hundred thousand dollars, and walked right out the door. Now, she was heading back to the Mcgee estate, ready to rip her money from her father's greedy hands and burn her sister's life to the ground./0/84992/coverorgin.jpg?v=d99d207265b6321d90e1fd1c3b808c41&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Betrayal, Her Fiery Rebirth
The air still reeked of scorched metal and something sickly sweet, even as I stood on the gantry, watching the heat waves rise from the test pit below. My husband, Liam, stood beside me, his face impassive as he held out a pen. "Sign the papers, Ava," he demanded, his voice flat. Suspended beneath us, held by a massive industrial claw, were my parents-pale, terrified, and renowned NASA scientists. Liam' s new mistress, Scarlett, was pregnant, and he needed a "real home" for his new family. I had laughed, a raw, broken sound, when he told me, then confronted him, only for him to offer divorce papers and a blank check. "Take it. It' s more than you deserve," he' d said. My refusal led to broken legs, a vicious smear campaign, and then, he took my parents. Now, he offered the pen again: "Sign. Or they' re gone." My parents' eyes screamed, though their mouths were taped. My father shook his head, a desperate plea for me not to comply. But I couldn' t let them die. My own life was already over. "I' ll sign," I whispered, tasting ash. "Just let them go." Liam nodded to the operator, but the claw didn' t rise. It opened. My parents fell, their screams swallowed by an inferno. The stench of burning flesh hit me, and I vomited. Liam watched, his eyes empty. The world dissolved into grief and fire. There was nothing left. I turned, and with a final look at the man I once loved, I threw myself into the flames. And then I woke up. My legs were whole. The date on my phone was yesterday. It wasn' t a dream. It was a second chance./0/81099/coverorgin.jpg?v=be372f11352296704d4bf75a12e604dd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Don't Take The Test
It was SAT day, a pivotal moment, when a text from my brother Michael – vanished three years ago – shattered the calm: "Don't take the test!" My stomach twisted. He' d resurfaced. But how? Then, my world truly fractured. My 'Mom' entered, her smile unsettlingly wide, her familiar mole bizarrely on the wrong side. Her reflection in the mirror seemed to melt. My 'Dad' also felt wrong, his touch cold, wearing a hated rival's jersey. These weren't my parents. My home, my family, had become an unnerving performance. As they subtly pressured me towards the exam, even Michael's best friend, Ethan, joined their unsettling charade. A mysterious 'Dr. Reed' called, claiming Michael was dead, that I was hallucinating his texts, suffering from PTSD. They presented a fake funeral video with glaring inconsistencies. Was I insane? Was my grief twisting reality? Deep-seated defiance screamed no. Only a single, secret promise, known just to the real Michael and me, could slice through this elaborate deception. I texted him, and his perfect, instant reply confirmed it. This world was a meticulously crafted lie. Michael was alive, trapped somewhere. I had to break free, through every twisted layer of illusion, until I hunted down the true mastermind. My freedom, and Michael's, depended on it. And I was ready to crash this reality./0/81424/coverorgin.jpg?v=3f2e0920622f88a716f90b2b65a16ba8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Divorce That Set Her Free
The divorce papers lay on our dining table, stark white against the mahogany. My husband, Ethan, placed them there, his voice smooth, asking for three days. Just three days, he said, for his college ex-girlfriend, Chloe. Chloe, who he swore was a ghost from his past, was now supposedly dying of a rare, aggressive cancer. Her last wish? To marry him. And for those three days, he needed me to "not remember." He pointed to a sterile vial in his hand – Compound M-7, my creation, a memory drug I' d developed. He wanted me, his wife, Dr. Evelyn Hayes, a neuroscientist, to erase myself so he could play husband to another woman. He called it "temporary amnesia," believing there was an antidote. The audacity of his request, born from convenience and a shocking lack of loyalty, shattered everything I thought we had. He didn't know M-7 was irreversible. My secret. My burden. This wasn' t just about a weekend; it was his willingness to sacrifice me, to wipe me from his life for a dying wish he' d barely questioned. How could he ask this of me? But now, seeing his betrayal so clearly, I saw M-7 not as a tool for his deceit, but as my escape. I nodded slowly, my voice steady, whispering, "Temporary." A lie. The biggest I' d ever told him. Because he thought he was borrowing my memory, he was actually handing me my true, permanent freedom./0/45413/coverorgin.jpg?v=e652f37cf4c8f66b08d77a9178d7d95b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
EKO IMMORTALITY
In the year 2157, the dazzling city of Eko reveals a stark divide between opulent heights and oppressed depths. "Eko: Immortality," the first installment of the Eko Eternity Series, thrusts you into a world teetering on the brink. Amidst glittering skyscrapers and neon-lit streets, the sinister truth of an elusive immortality project unravels—a technology that promises eternal life but conceals dark secrets. As investigative journalist Ada Sobowale probes the project's origins, she collides with Femi Ogundipe, a hacker with a cryptic mission, and Jidenna Aluko, a charismatic rebel igniting hope. Their destinies converge, setting the stage for a clash that will expose the project's hidden horrors and ignite a rebellion against a powerful regime. Amidst the breathtaking vistas and turmoil, loyalties blur and ethics are put to the ultimate test. Themes of power and corruption intertwine, unveiling a delicate dance between ambition and morality. The legacy of immortality hangs in the balance as the characters navigate a world where nothing is as it seems. Get ready to be captivated by immersive world-building, shifting alliances, and the moral quandaries of eternal life. Brace yourself for a tale where the pursuit of everlasting existence leads to both redemption and devastation. "Eko: Immortality" will keep you on the edge of your seat, weaving a tapestry of intrigue and suspense that lingers long after the final page. Embark on a journey that unveils the darkness beneath the city's glittering facade. Content warnings: Themes of power dynamics, oppression, and moral dilemmas./0/20431/coverorgin.jpg?v=cdfb9b55256c401a6d7d83063b2a8b24&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From A Human Point Of View
She is the voice of the law and the all-seeing eye; but she's not human. And new rejuvenation therapies pose a question she can't answer. Adults who look like teenagers, children who look like adults, and a very confused A.I. Not knowing how to proceed, the ever-vigilant artificial intelligence will have its own body in an effort to understand us. when the rules no longer apply, everything is allowed./0/85003/coverorgin.jpg?v=18d8aee29d0398006ff5ce5bbdb3c5af&imageMogr2/format/webp)
