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Top Modern Romance

No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

Modern Xiao Xiaosu
I went to the City Clerk's office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk's pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray's text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we're done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray's life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.
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Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle

Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle

Modern Ming Yue
Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire. I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper. I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he'd dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family's land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock. I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim. "If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned. So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months. Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I've suspended Hugh's executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I'm just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout. But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back.
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Werewolf Romance Picks

Forsaken by the Pack, Mated to the Secret Lycan King

Forsaken by the Pack, Mated to the Secret Lycan King

Werewolf Da Lanlan
For two years, I was Alpha Jase Davenport's loyal assistant and secret bed-warmer. Because I was a wolfless Omega, I trusted his empty promises instead of instincts I didn't possess. Then, a push notification from a notorious gossip blog shattered my world. Jase was pictured in Paris, his hand intimately resting on the waist of my cruel stepsister, Kira. The headline screamed that he was finally claiming his fated Luna. Before I could even process the betrayal, Jase texted me a cold command to update his schedule, treating me like a soulless employee. Immediately after, my mother called to gloat. "Did you honestly believe an Alpha like Jase would settle for a defective creature like you?" She threatened to freeze my late father's Pack trust fund unless I agreed to marry an abusive, elderly Alpha to be his breeding mare. If I refused, I would be cast out as a penniless stray, easy prey for any Rogue. I was nothing but a convenient placeholder to Jase, and a piece of livestock to my own family. They thought they had me completely cornered, ready to steal my inheritance and leave me to die. But as the panic subsided, a cold clarity took its place. My father's will only required a legal mating bond to unlock my millions; it never said my family had to approve of the groom. I wiped my tears, opened my laptop, and searched for a disgraced, debt-ridden Rogue named Babe Vincent. If I needed a husband on paper to secure my freedom, I was going to buy one.
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The Alpha's Regret: The White Wolf He Rejected

The Alpha's Regret: The White Wolf He Rejected

Werewolf Serenity Now
My sister, the pack's beloved future Luna, was dying of kidney failure. Axel, the Supreme Alpha and the man I had secretly loved my entire life, used his Alpha Command to force the pen into my trembling hand. "Sign the papers, Jana," he growled, his eyes glowing with a predatory red light. "Stop being selfish. Kyleigh needs a transplant, and you are the only match." I tried to beg. I tried to tell him that I couldn't survive the surgery. I tried to tell him that I had already secretly donated a kidney to our father five years ago—a sacrifice my sister had claimed credit for. But Axel threw a stack of falsified medical scans in my face. "Stop lying to save your own skin," he spat. "You are a useless, Wolfless Omega. This is your only chance to be of value to this pack." He didn't know that Kyleigh had been poisoning me with Wolfsbane for a decade to suppress my inner White Wolf. He didn't know that the anesthesia wouldn't work on my poisoned body. I felt every inch of the silver scalpel as they cut me open to harvest my only remaining kidney. I died on that table, listening to the man I loved call me dramatic. But death was not the end. My spirit floated above the chaos, watching as the surgeon's face turned pale with horror. "She only had one!" the doctor screamed, holding up the blackened organ. "Alpha, look at the old scars! We just killed her!" Only after my heart stopped did the scent-masking drugs fade. Axel fell to his knees in the blood-soaked room, finally smelling the scent of rain and pine he had been searching for his whole life. He realized he had just butchered his true mate to save a liar. "Jana?" he howled, clawing at his chest. But I was already gone.
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The Rejected Omega Is Actually The Lycan Princess

The Rejected Omega Is Actually The Lycan Princess

Werewolf Luo Chengfeng
For three years, I scrubbed tables as a "wolfless runt," hiding my identity as the Lycan King's daughter. It was a test for my fiancé, Alpha Connor. I wanted to see if he loved the girl, or just the crown. He failed spectacularly tonight. His mistress, Jaden, deliberately knocked a tray of drinks onto me during the dinner rush. The liquid wasn't alcohol. It was concentrated silver. My flesh hissed and bubbled as the poison ate through my skin, blocking any ability to heal. I fell to the floor, clutching my melting hand, while Jaden faked tears and claimed I attacked her. When Connor finally answered the video call, he saw my mangled hand. He smelled the burning flesh. He knew it was silver. But he didn't help me. He looked at his watch, annoyed that I was interrupting his business meeting with investors. "Apologize to Jaden," he ordered, using his Alpha Command to crush me into submission. "On your knees. Now." The pain was blinding, but the betrayal cut deeper. He was forcing his Fated Mate to bow to the woman who tried to maim her. My knees bent under the pressure, but my Royal blood refused to break. I looked straight into the camera lens. "No," I whispered. I reached into my apron, bypassing the notepad, and pulled out a black satellite phone I hadn't touched in years. "Code Black," I said to the King on the other end. "Send the Guard." Connor thought he was disciplining a waitress. He didn't know he just declared war on the Royal Family.
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