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Young Adult Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Sacrificed Son, Unbreakable Soul

Sacrificed Son, Unbreakable Soul

The email glowed on my screen, a full scholarship to MIT. A surge of pure joy, a feeling so unfamiliar it almost hurt. This was my ticket out, the thing that would finally make them see me. But when I ran downstairs, laptop clutched like a holy relic, my family was gathered around my younger brother, Caleb, celebrating his acceptance to a local community college. Their banner read, "Congratulations Caleb!" "I got in," I said, my voice softer now. "MIT. With a full scholarship." My father glanced at my screen, then back at Caleb, admiring a new, expensive watch. "That's nice, Ethan," he said, flat and dismissive. "But we're a little busy right now. It's Caleb's big day." My sister scoffed, "Always trying to steal the spotlight, aren't you?" Later, my printed acceptance letter and plane ticket for orientation were torn to unrecognizable pieces in the trash. It wasn't an accident. It was a message. My mother waved it off, "It's just paper. Stop being so dramatic." "Dramatic?" My voice rose, shaking. "This was my ticket to MIT! You destroyed it!" My father boomed, "Don't you raise your voice! You are upsetting your brother on his special night." Caleb smirked from behind him, admiring his new watch, a symbol of his victory. A cold clarity washed over me. It had always been like this. My one tangible hope of escape lay in the garbage. They hadn't just thrown away paper; they had thrown away my future, showing me my dreams meant less than protecting Caleb from his inadequacy. I was a stranger in my own home, a perpetual villain in their narrative. Was I too ambitious, too smart? Was my very existence an inconvenience? My throat ached with a dry sob. I felt like those scraps-torn, discarded, worthless in their eyes.
Stuck With Mr. Popular

Stuck With Mr. Popular

It took everything in me not to kiss him back. His lips moved against mine in a perfect rhythm. "Soaf-Soaf please listen to me" He said while his blue eyes were gazing into mine. His breath fanned my face. We both were panting. My heart was thudding hard against my chest. "I-I have to go." I said shocked after what had just happened now. Fucking shit. Somehow I got myself out of his grip and took the file which fell on the floor when he pinned my hands on the wall and ran out of the classroom. I heard him mumbling a few curse words as I rushed to the door. "Soaf...Soaf" His voice faded as I ran out of the classroom. What has just happened? What the hell is wrong with him? He kissed me. Raymond Reynolds-The most popular boy of our school just kissed me. Why would he kiss me? No one even talks to me in at school. He didn't even know my name two weeks ago. Suddenly an image of light brown pair of eyes glaring at me pops up in my mind. Ellen Whitmore. She's going make my life a living hell. ************ Sophie Esinberg is your typical nerd with glasses, books clutched in her arms and face down while walking down the school hallway. She wasn't like this earlier. She used to be outspoken and confident. Then what changed her? Sophie faced a hell lot of bullying and had no one who could stand up for her. After her childhood best friend Daniel left her she accepted her life as a loner. Not until one day she is forced into a project with School's Famous Bad boy, also known as Mr. Popular- Raymond Reynolds. Everything comes crashing down when she finds that she is falling for cocky , super hot and irresistible Mr. Popular. But she knows she's a nobody in his world. She is incompetent. Will she fight against her instincts and let him break her heart?
When Friends Become Your Cruelest Foes

When Friends Become Your Cruelest Foes

"Lily, you should do it," Tiffany Hayes purred, her eyes fixed on me in the art academy' s lounge. As the scholarship student, managing our class' s two-million-dollar art fund seemed like a twisted honor, a responsibility the elite kids conveniently dodged. Three years later, at our graduation exhibition-the night my life' s work was finally displayed-my childhood friend, Mark Miller, seized the microphone. "Our class art fund has been mismanaged," he announced, his gaze piercing me. "One point eight million dollars is missing." The dreams I had meticulously built shattered. Every eye in the buzzing gallery turned to me, judging, accusing. Tiffany, Mark' s girlfriend, stood by his side, her feigned sympathy a cold knife twisting inside me. They stripped me bare, painting me a thief, a public spectacle. "I have records of everything," I insisted. "Every dollar is accounted for!" But the projection screen behind him flashed a balance of $1,250.34, sealing my fate. "Just tell us what you did with the money," Tiffany cooed, trying to lure out a confession. "We were friends." Friends? Their betrayal burned hotter than any accusation. They had done this. Set me up. Framed me. The rage and humiliation were suffocating, but a cold resolve began to crystallize within me. They thought they had broken me, but they had just ignited a fire. I walked out of the gallery that night, not in defeat, but with a fierce determination. I would find the truth. I would expose them. And they would pay.