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Young Adult Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Her Vengeance, Their Regret

Her Vengeance, Their Regret

The email chimed, promising a breakthrough – a perfect 1600 on my SATs, a golden ticket to the future, and finally, acceptance into the Miller family. But then, Chloe, my adoptive sister, gasped, her own 1599 score turning her face green with envy. In an instant, joy curdled into a nightmare as Liam, my adoptive brother, materialized, his protective fury ignited by Chloe' s crocodile tears. He branded me a cheat, an ungrateful outsider out to humiliate his beloved sister, tearing down everything I' d worked for. They dragged me, terrified, from the house, not to reflect, but to a rundown animal shelter, a place designed to exploit my deepest, most traumatic childhood phobia: dogs. This was no prank; it was calculated malice. Left bleeding and broken, Liam' s scathing words on the phone twisted the knife deeper, dismissing my pleas for help as manipulation. Then, Chloe' s voice, sickeningly sweet, promised to destroy my most cherished possession-a photo of my late mentor, Mr. Harrison-and I heard the shattering glass. The line went dead, leaving me in the dark with a freed, aggressive pit bull, its growl a death knell. Just as hope flickered, Chloe' s voice, cruel and dismissive, echoed again, mocking my screams as "dramatic." They weren' t coming. They wanted me to die. But then, I heard the sirens, and found the strength to scream one desperate command: "Break it down!" The world exploded in light, but so did the Millers' carefully constructed facade, exposed live on national television as a horrific betrayal. Now, as they face the consequences of their monstrous acts, I will rise from the ashes, no longer an outsider begging for crumbs of affection, but the architect of my own destiny.
The Pop-Up Truth

The Pop-Up Truth

My phone screen lit up, not with a text, but a stark, black-and-white pop-up. "Ethan' s SAT scores: 1580. Stanford bound with Tiffany. You' re the 'just in case' girl." Just moments earlier, my childhood crush Ethan, whose father my own dad died saving, feigned despair over "disastrous" SAT scores. He'd gently coerced me, the valedictorian, to give up my dream school for State College, all for "us." These mysterious pop-ups, visible only to me, had always been unsettlingly, terrifyingly right. This one revealed his calculated deception: he'd aced his SATs and was going to Stanford with his new girlfriend, Tiffany. My heart turned to ice. I was his backup plan, a discarded pawn. The betrayal escalated at his lavish graduation party where he publicly humiliated me, painting my sacrifice as my idea. Then, with Tiffany's cruel suggestion, he trapped and locked me in a dark utility closet. The final blow: he brazenly showed my ailing mom a faked State acceptance letter, causing her to suffer a heart attack. As I sat by her hospital bed, watching her struggle for breath, a cold rage ignited. How could the boy whose family owed us everything be capable of such cruel manipulation? My dad died for his. Why was I his pawn? What were these pop-ups? But in that sterile room, watching his continued charade, something inside me snapped. I slapped him, hard. No longer a confused victim, I saw him for what he was: a manipulative abuser. This wasn't the end of my story. This was the beginning of my fight to reclaim it.
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.
Her Jealous Game: My Fight for Truth

Her Jealous Game: My Fight for Truth

My life was perfectly on track. A full scholarship to Yale, loving parents, and the SATs were just another stepping stone. I had my best friend Brittany and boyfriend Kyle by my side, seemingly there to support me through it all. Then, I died. And snapped awake, gasping. The horrifying memories of my past flooded back: a SAT cheating scandal that ruined my family and led to their deaths, and my own demise. I was back, exactly one day before the SATs, staring at the faces of those who would betray me. I desperately tried to change my fate, fleeing the hotel and establishing an alibi. Yet, the nightmare unfolded again. I was arrested, framed with planted evidence-a fake earpiece, forged transactions, a look-alike at the test center. My ironclad alibi vanished when the cafe's security cameras mysteriously 'fried.' My parents were shamed, my father physically attacked. How could this be happening? Every attempt to escape only tightened the net. My supposed best friend, my boyfriend-they were the architects of my ruin. The proof was overwhelming, irrefutable, yet entirely false. Was I truly powerless against this meticulously crafted conspiracy? But amidst the despair, a single, overlooked detail on the 'evidence' hoodie sparked a desperate hope: the absence of a tiny, silver thread I' d sewn into my unique raven patch. This time, I wouldn't be a victim. Feigning illness to buy critical time, I would unravel their monstrous lie and reclaim my future.
My Second Death, My Second Chance

My Second Death, My Second Chance

I died once trying to be a hero. It was after high school graduation, at Brad Thompson' s notorious "End of the World Bash" lake party. I warned everyone about the spiked punch and Brad's predatory nature, but my girlfriend Tiffany scoffed, and my childhood friend Sarah, blinded by her crush on Brad, turned away. They went, everyone went, except me. Later, Sarah blamed me for ruining her shot with Brad; one rainy Tuesday, she found me and ended my first life with a knife. Then, I woke up, gasping, back in my high school bedroom, reliving the day Brad would announce his party. I wasn't dead. But then I saw Sarah in the hallway. She remembered everything too. And her already dangerous obsession with Brad had intensified, chillingly so. "This time, I' m going to be by Brad' s side. No matter what," she whispered, a promise that sent shivers down my spine. I tried to avert disaster, to warn everyone away from that party, but Tiffany broke up with me for being a 'buzzkill.' Brad' s jock friends cornered me, forcing me to attend. I desperately tried to record Brad admitting his punch was spiked, but they caught me. Brad had his goons lock me in the boathouse, just before the cops raided. But instead of being safe, it was worse. Sarah pointed at me, claiming, "He' s the one who brought the spiked punch!" Tiffany and Brad quickly corroborated her lie. I was arrested, charged with felony drug distribution, for something I had fought to prevent. My childhood friend, now my accuser, was willing to destroy my life to preserve her twisted fantasy with Brad. Her obsession was a cancer, eating away at her humanity, and I was caught directly in its malignant path. Was this second chance just another slow, agonizing death, orchestrated by the very person who ended my first? My confiscated phone might hold hidden fragments of truth. Could those damaged recordings be my only proof, my sole hope to prove my innocence and change a grim fate once more?