Is The 36 Hours Book Based On A True Story?

Evelyn Hayes has spent three years as a “invisible wife” to billionaire Arthur Garrison, living in a marriage that exists only on paper. When she is diagnosed with a terminal illness and told she only has months left, she offers him one final deal: one hundred days of his time in exchange for signing their divorce papers. Arthur agrees, eager to finally be free, completely unaware that he is counting down the days to her death. But as they spend time together, Arthur begins to see Evelyn differently, and the freedom he once wanted no longer feels important. With Evelyn quietly slipping away and time running out, Arthur is forced to face a choice he never expected to make. When the hundred days end, will he still want his freedom—or will it already be too late to save her?

We were once best friends, a CEO, and his secretary. Then, one night changed everything. Dominic was drunk and grieving after he lost his father, and I happened to be available when he needed an outlet. He pinned me against the wall and ravaged me. That night, I lost a friend and my first. The next morning, he accused me of taking advantage of him while he was drunk, and somehow, I couldn't defend myself. The board forced him to marry me, and that intensified his hatred for me. " This is another one of your schemes, right?" he had asked, hands trembling as he signed the marriage certificate. A few weeks into the marriage, and he started sending divorce, one after another. But I kept on tearing them, because I wanted a complete family for our daughter.. But she is now diagnosed with a terminal illness.. With nothing left, I make one final request: Thirty days… before the divorce. Thirty days for my daughter to have a father. Thirty days before we disappear from his life... But the truth shatters everything. I was innocent, he finds out. And the woman he broke? Not just an orphan… I am a lost heiress. Now he wants me back. But this time, I am the one walking away. He has to earn it... or I might as well accept the man my newfound brothers chose for me.

Three years after I died, my mother sent me twenty dollars for living expenses. Three years before that—the first time I ever asked my family for money—she said to me, offhand, "Sometimes I think you're just putting on an act. What's so unsanitary about a thirty-cent boxed meal? And why can't you wear a five-dollar down jacket? Face it, you're just more high-maintenance than your little brother." Later, when I needed twenty dollars to buy some cheap medicine for my stomachache, she blocked me immediately and cut off all contact—along with every relative we had. "Don't contact me anymore. I'm clearly not a good mother. I can't afford to give my son a life of luxury." But for my younger brother, who had just started high school, she spared no expense—renting him a three-bedroom apartment. Even the family dog got its own room. In the end, on the day my brother became the top scorer in the state, she finally remembered me. She took me off her block list and transferred twenty dollars. "It's only twenty dollars. Was it really worth giving your family the silent treatment for three whole years?" What she never knew was this— On the night my stomach ruptured, three years ago, I had already died. I couldn't afford to go to the hospital. I froze to death in the snow.

The day I decided to donate my body to science, my family gathered around my adopted sister, Hailey, celebrating her acceptance into a cutting-edge experimental treatment program. The one with brain cancer was supposed to be me. But Hailey used my husband Zane's position at the hospital to swap her healthy medical records with my terminal diagnosis, stealing the one chance I had to survive. And the worst part? Everyone cheered her on. The pain became too much. I fought to stay present, only to overhear the nurses whispering, "It's a good thing Dr. Zane secured that spot for Hailey. They said she only had three days left." So, in the last 72 hours of my life, I quietly let go of everything. When I gave Hailey the original manuscripts of my novels I had poured my heart and soul into, my father and brother gave me a satisfied smile. When Zane decided to grant Hailey her dying wish by marrying her, he handed me the divorce papers. I signed without a moment's hesitation. He sighed and praised me for finally being "so reasonable." And when I was the one who coaxed our daughter, Olivia, into calling Hailey "Mommy," Olivia gushed that her new mom was the best. "Don't worry," Zane soothed. "We're just keeping it safe for now. Once she's gone, it'll all come back to you." I gave Hailey everything I had, just like they wanted. So why, when they find out this was all Hailey's vicious lie, do they come crying, saying I'm the one they wanted all along?

Set in London and Brighton, Thirty Days is a fabulously provocative romance series that gives you a very steamy love affair between a hot guy and an unsure heroine, baked goods and some rather unexpected twists and turns along the way. Shy and unassuming, Abigail James loves to bake. She dreams of opening her own dessert café but instead she spends her days working as a data analyst and sneaking in her cakes as the company's 'diet assassin' on the side. Taylor Hudson, the enigmatic owner of Hudson International, has been captivated by Abby’s innocence and quiet charm since the day she started working for the company. However, his history with women is marred by personal circumstances and he has vowed to stay away. A chance meeting sees Abby's world turned upside down when, drawn in by Taylor’s chocolate-coloured eyes and unexpected kindness, she starts on a journey of attraction that will see her heart and soul laid bare. While their attraction is mutual, both Abby and Taylor have their own inner demons that they need to overcome if their relationship can move forward for them to find their own 'happily ever after'.

During a long holiday, my husband booked flights for a family vacation. On the way to the airport, I suddenly saw numbers appearing on everyone’s head. The numbers on my husband’s head indicated sixty years, but my parents and I had only six hours indicated on our heads. While I was puzzled over the meaning of those numbers, I noticed that the driver next to us only had six seconds indicated over his head through the car window. Five… Four… Three… Two… One. When the number turned zero, a massive truck immediately rammed into the car next to us. I saw flickers of fire, flesh and blood exploding before my eyes. People were screaming for help, but I could not hear anything. I trembled as cold sweat drenched my entire body. It was because my flight would be taking off in six hours.