Best website builders for selling online courses

Sellfy inverts the usual ordering: digital products come first and physical goods second, which suits a creator selling files, subscriptions or memberships rather than a shop packing boxes. It is a genuine site builder as well as a checkout — a contact page ships with it, custom pages carry their own titles and descriptions, and marketing email is part of the subscription rather than an integration.

There is no platform fee on ordinary sales, which reads well against a market where a percentage is common.

The cost is pushed well above the advertised figure by two things. The entry plan carries a custom domain but cannot remove Sellfy's branding, so the plan that actually publishes an unbranded store on your own address costs twice the headline figure. And each plan carries an annual sales ceiling, above which a two per cent overage applies — avoidable by moving up a tier, but another step in the same direction. The plan a real shop needs is not the plan advertised.

Podia is the clearest example here of a selling product that is also a site. Pages, blog posts and an editable header and footer are part of it, so a creator's home on the internet and their checkout are the same thing rather than two systems pointed at each other. Courses, memberships, coaching and downloads all sell from it, and email to the list is included.

For someone whose business is what they know rather than what they stock, that consolidation removes a great deal of assembly.

The price is the argument against. The entry plan is the only plan below the top tier, and it is expensive for a product a single person runs — there is no cheaper way in and no trial tier that publishes properly. On top of that sits a five per cent charge on sales at that tier, the payment processor's own fee, and an email list capped at a hundred subscribers with more sold at a price the vendor does not publish. The cheapest way to use it is not cheap.

Kajabi sells knowledge: courses, coaching, memberships and the site that presents them. It is a real builder rather than a wrapper — pages, a blog and scheduling all live in the same product as the checkout, so an expert running a teaching business does not have to connect four services and keep them in step.

Scheduling is included rather than being a third-party embed, which is unusual in this group and matters to anyone selling their time.

The cost is the difficulty here, in two ways. Its published rate at checkout is considerably higher than the figure widely repeated in third-party comparison tables, so a reader arriving from one of those will be surprised. And no annual rate could be established at all — the signup route for it returned nothing readable — so the only number that can honestly be quoted is a monthly one. Below the top tier the account is limited to a single website, which for anyone running more than one venture is a harder constraint than it sounds.

Circle sells a home for a paid community, and the site builder is one room in it. The vendor's own headline puts community, events and courses together, and the plans are counted in members, admins, moderators and spaces rather than in pages. What you buy is somewhere for people to talk, learn and pay, with a public face attached.

That face is better built than the category usually manages. Pages are assembled from elements and blocks, colour themes sit on the rate card alongside custom style and script snippets, and every page carries its own search panel: an indexing toggle, an editable title, a description, a canonical address and a slug. Selling is native, and what it sells is access.

The catch is the shape of the ceiling rather than its height. Every page the builder produces lives under the one community address and has no address of its own, so a site here cannot become a second site — Circle scores 3 for room to grow despite an otherwise generous product. The entry plan is $89 a month, several things a reader would assume were included are not, and transaction fees are taken on top.

Mighty Networks starts by asking who you want to bring together, and turns that one answer into a landing page, a logo, brand imagery and a community template. The vendor's stated design target is a person working under an hour a day, and the product is built backwards from that: the assistant does the first draft and the host adjusts it.

The plan shape is unusual and worth understanding. Members and spaces are uncapped on every tier including the cheapest, so an audience that grows does not push you up a rung, and native mobile apps come at no extra charge. At the top there is a real platform surface — administrative and headless interfaces, a machine-readable endpoint, single sign-on and white-labelled email.

The cost is everything between those two ends. Hosts, moderators, storage, livestream hours and attendees, interface requests and published landing pages are all metered by tier, with paid boosts sold on top and a transaction fee that reaches zero on no plan at all. Email marketing needs the $179 tier plus a paid account elsewhere. The landing page is assembled from a fixed palette of section types and there is no template gallery, so design scores 2, and the custom domain is manual DNS work that can take two days and a support request to undo.

Pensight is a storefront for selling time and knowledge, and the part it takes most seriously is the calendar. Availability is set weekly with configurable slot lengths, both major mail platforms connect, reminders go out by email and text, video calling is attached and calls are transcribed automatically. That is a scheduling product rather than a booking link on a page.

Around it sits a wide commercial layer: eight offer types through one checkout with coupons, instalments, pay-what-you-want and subscriptions, plus email broadcasts, upsell funnels, an affiliate programme with commissions you set, and the three major advertising pixels. Setup is a guided three-step flow with templates for each offer type, and the unpaid plan is real — no monthly charge, a percentage at checkout instead.

The catch is how that percentage is described. The headline says a single three percent transaction fee inclusive of card processing; the comparison grid on the same page splits it into a platform row reading zero and a processing row reading three. Both come to the same number for you, and a reader told zero would be misled. Beyond that, the profile page's controls are an enumerated closed list with no stylesheet anywhere, and a domain you own needs the Pro plan.

Pillar is a creator page with a marketing department attached. Email flows, lead magnets, an affiliate link generator and a media kit that keeps itself current for brand enquiries all sit beside the checkout, and the second tier adds a funnel and landing page builder. What it sells is the apparatus rather than the page.

The page itself is meant to take no skill. The vendor answers its own question about whether you need any with a flat no, describing drag-and-drop, templates and prebuilt funnels, and the design tool saves changes live so there is no publish step to forget. Checkout for downloads, courses, memberships and coaching happens on the page, bookable slots are a product type on the entry tier, and support is a chat channel on any plan.

The cost has to be read as two numbers rather than one. The entry tier charges a percentage on every sale and the second tier removes it, so the cheaper plan is only cheaper below a certain volume — and a domain you own sits on that second tier too, not on the entry one. Design stops at a live theme picker with colour, block shape, font and animation controls: no stylesheet, no code block and no layout canvas appears anywhere in the help centre.

Systeme.io does the thing this category usually charges for and gives it away. The free plan carries a domain you own, funnels, a blog, a store with inventory and shipping, a booking calendar, courses and a list of up to two thousand contacts, and the vendor states it never expires and needs no card.

The branding question, which is what usually spoils a free plan, resolves cleanly. The mark on a page is an opt-in affiliate badge you switch on to earn commission rather than a watermark you pay to remove, so a free page can be entirely yours. A site can be published at the root of your domain, and there is a free setup service linked from every page for anyone who does not want to touch DNS at all.

The tradeoff is that nothing leaves. No export is documented anywhere — not the pages, not the funnels, not the courses — which holds growth at 3 despite a feature list that would otherwise reach higher. The editor is a plain drag-and-drop tool over a template library, with no AI anywhere and no documented site-wide styling surface, so design scores 2. The pricing FAQ also contradicts the rate card on the same page.

Thinkific's headline is the one thing it does not meter: courses are unlimited on every purchasable tier, including the cheapest. That is a real difference from platforms that count what you publish, and the vendor leans on it. Around the courses sit communities, coaching and webinar products, a hosted checkout with bundles, order bumps and subscriptions, and a thirty-day trial that lets the whole thing be built before it is paid for.

Support is unusually good at the bottom of the range: email and chat are named on every purchasable tier rather than starting one rung up, phone arrives on the third, and there is a large cross-linked help centre with registrar-specific instructions for connecting a domain. Themes cover colour and typography, sections are editable and draggable, and smart sections update themselves from the course data.

The thing to weigh sits elsewhere, and it is worth knowing before signing. The student ceiling is ten thousand and does not move across three tiers — only the unpriced top plan lifts it. Administrators run one, two and six, so a two-person team is already on the second plan. Video bandwidth is the meter a video-heavy business hits first. And the branding: removing it costs $164 a month, four times the entry figure, which is what an unbranded school on your own domain actually costs.

Skool's pitch is the absence of a spreadsheet. Members, courses, videos and live calls are all unlimited on both plans, so there is no seat count to watch, no storage allowance to top up and no tier to be pushed onto as the group grows. The two plans differ only in the cut taken on what the group sells, which makes the cheaper one cheaper until a certain volume and dearer after it.

There is also almost nothing to build. Setup is a group, an About page holding media and a description, and a claimed address, each covered by a short illustrated help article. The community's own front door is the platform's directory of groups to browse and join, so some discovery is supplied rather than earned, and the group's public page doubles as its checkout.

What you give up is any site at all. There is no template, no theme and no page editor; the public page takes uploaded media and a text description, links inside it are disabled, and the only personalisation the feature list names is renaming the gamification levels — design scores 1. The address lives inside the vendor's namespace and moving it a second time is charged for. There is no free plan either, only a fourteen-day trial reached from both plan cards.

Stan Store is built for a creator who wants to stop thinking about their website. There is one page, and the design step is picking a theme, two colours and a font — no domain, no records, no hosting decision anywhere in it, and a 5 for getting something live follows from that. The claim is a store built in a few minutes and nothing contradicts it.

Selling is the product rather than a feature bolted onto it. Courses, digital products and bookings are all bought on the same page, bundling, order bumps and payment plans are documented behaviour, and calendar and booking tools are on the cheapest plan rather than held back for the dearer one. The vendor advertises zero transaction fees on every sale, with a heading reading exactly that above the line.

The tradeoff is that this is a page inside somebody else's site. The vendor states outright that a domain you own cannot be created or embedded, listing it among the things it does not have yet and offering a redirect instead. A second audience means a second paid account rather than a second store. There is no permanent free plan, and the marketing half of the product sits behind the dearer tier.

Teachable's argument is that selling a course is mostly an administrative problem. The checkout handles tax collection and remittance in dozens of countries, payouts arrive daily with no reserve held back, and coupons, upsells, order bumps and bundles are on every tier. Video hosting is generous throughout, and both phone platforms have student apps.

The site around it is deliberately plain, and the vendor is not shy about that: the whole palette is twelve blocks, per-block settings cover colour, opacity, alignment, padding, gutter and corner radius, and two independent reviews describe the template selection as one of the platform's notable limitations. One of them counts two course templates. Custom HTML blocks are no longer enabled for new schools at all and need a support request.

The catch is what the entry price does not buy. Starter is $29 a month and takes seven and a half percent of every sale on top, processing fees beyond that, and gives you one administrator. Removing the branding costs $139 a month, which is what the site most people picture actually costs. There is no blog, no way to publish in a second language and no course export at all — what leaves is student data as a spreadsheet — so growth scores 2 despite an otherwise capable commercial layer.