48 Hours Novels & Stories

In the darkness of the night, a 26-year-old fashion designer counters the murder of an innocent woman in the city of love. She is confronted with the most horrific scenario by the biggest mafia in France, which gets her in trouble. Daniel Richman, 28, is MI6 agent assigned to find the head of French mafia gang leader Tiago Pablo. However, he is backstabbed by someone he must investigate, he meets a mysterious woman named Rania. She doubts him yet at the same time is attracted to the English man and cannot stop thinking about him. Daniel is drawn to the lady and he finds himself drawn to her within these short hours, and before he knows it, he's in love with her. What will happen when the night is over? Will they stay together or will they part ways like strangers do?

Terror, torment and obedience, that's been my life up until this point. Trapped in the house of a monstrous Alpha and fated to obey his every command. I learnt at a young age, not to talk back, not question or defy, and my wolf learnt quickly too. In the dark hours of the night I lose myself in the wondrous tales of a life of freedom, a life of my own, but its fantasy, fiction, it will never be real. But then he comes. The Alpha from Silver lake, is unlike any Alpha I've ever met, there's something strange about him, he almost seems kind, and suddenly I have a choice to make, one that could be the start of a new beginning or the death of me, I haven't quite figured that part out yet.

Her heart is broken at the altar by her lover, amidst the whispers and before the eyes of all. Cecily can't believe this is happening. Waves of shock move through her spine as she hears her lover echo those cold words of rejection. Bruno: " I can't marry you, Cecily. My heart belongs to someone else..." Then came the murmurs, louder this time, and a heartbroken bride struggling to digest this awkward reality, or better still, disappear completely... How could this be? We were just fine a few hours ago, promising each other forever over the phone and countless times in private. Has her lover been swapped or had a total transformation into a stranger she could barely recognize?

Upon hearing about my husband's surgery, I braved a typhoon and torrential rain, driving four hours back to the city. When I arrived at the hospital, my husband, Xander Gray, was lying on the hospital bed, calling out loudly, "I want my wife! Get my wife here!" His buddies around him joked about how his wife had him completely whipped. Everyone said he loved me to death. Blushing, I walked over with a happy smile and held his hand, saying, "I'm here." To my surprise, he shook off my hand in disgust and snarled, "Get lost! You're not my wife! My wife is Beverly Long!"

It happened in Paris, year 2015 when Aemee Harlene Santiago visited there to get some space and to breath some fresh air after her break up with Josiah – her ex-boyfriend. On her last day in Paris she decided to go to club to get some drinks, but someone she didn’t know approached her, it’s Clifford Samonte. In an hours of talking they get along pretty well. Because of so much drinks they had, Aemee had one-night stand with him. After that night she left him, thinking that it’ll be there 1st and last meeting, but Aemee got pregnant, she hid the child from him and doesn’t have any plan to introduce it to Clifford. After how many years, their path crosses again. That starts their roller coaster love story.

Three hours after burying her gay husband, Sophia is given an ultimatum: move into her father-in-law's bed or watch her mother die and be raped by the entire mafia. Desperate, she calls the one man dangerous enough to protect her; Cassian Devine, her dead husband's enemy. Cassian offers help with strings attached. He'll give her protection, and money for her mother's care. In exchange, she becomes his completely. His submissive, his pet, his weapon against the man who ruined Cassian’s own family What starts as a transaction becomes something neither expected. But loving a man who believes he's unworthy of love while fighting a crime lord who wants her dead might cost Sophia everything, including her heart.

I came home a day early from my business trip and hid in the closet to surprise Eric Carter. At seven, he told the housekeeper to cook several dishes. At nine, he told me hoarsely that he had taken a bath and changed the bedsheets in my room. He was sure that I would love it. I did not believe him because I had heard him moaning in bed with Willow Summers for three hours from the closet. Willow Summers was his childhood sweetheart and my sister. I clicked on a webpage from my cell without hesitation. "Miss Summers, your appointment for creating a fake death has been confirmed. Time of Death: One week later Location of Death: The wedding hall on the top floor of the Century Building Cause of Death: Suicide from jumping off a building!"

When I first caught Miles cheating on me, I pinned him down at the entrance whenever he came home every day. I would pull down his pants and spray high-concentration alcohol all over his nether regions. He always went along with it with teary eyes because he knew he had been in the wrong. He would only look at me with a pitiful gaze and coax me to stop. One day, he came home two hours late. I became mad when I smelled the perfume on him. I started taking off his belt forcefully and yelled, “Last time, when you had your fun with one woman, you came home half an hour late. “Now you’re two hours late. Talk! Did you sleep with four?” Even though he apologized to me for the twenty-ninth time, I pushed him away repeatedly. He finally raised his hand to show me the IV mark on the back of it. He snapped and screamed at me, “Enough! I was dying with a high fever, yet you haven’t even asked how I’m doing. You just fly off the handle every single day. When are you going to stop? “Fine, I got drunk and slept with someone once. Big deal. You’re not so innocent yourself. “It’s no wonder you got dragged into an alley at sixteen, stripped, and assaulted. Jenna, you’re a paranoid wreck. You may have even deserved it.” The spray bottle shattered at my feet, and the smell of alcohol caught in my throat. I was speechless. I felt exhausted when I saw his disgusted expression. I did not want this broken relationship any longer.

At twenty-eight, I held the dubious honor of being the last unmarried socialite on New York's Upper East Side. Everyone around me was growing increasingly anxious about my single status. In my previous life, my mother arranged a matchmaking cocktail party, where I was told to choose a husband from ten handpicked elite bachelors. I bribed the event planner to place Mark West's profile at the very top—and as I had hoped, I chose him. After we married, Mark treated me with what seemed like tender affection. He even bought me an oceanfront villa in the Hamptons, making me believe I had finally found true love. But that illusion shattered the day I was nine months pregnant, just hours away from giving birth. Mark drove a scalpel straight into my abdomen—then, right in front of me, hurled our newborn onto the floor. "If you hadn't forced me into this marriage with your family's power, Sofia wouldn't have been heartbroken enough to go drinking and get drugged and assaulted. This… this is what you owe her!" He tossed the scalpel aside, then calmly let his private doctor pin down my blood-soaked body. I fought through excruciating pain for six agonizing hours, until I finally bled to death. Afterward, Mark dumped my corpse into the Hudson River. But for Sofia, he hosted a grand funeral—funded with my money, under my name—and paraded himself to the world as a grieving, devoted widower. Given a second chance at life, I refused to step foot in that cursed matchmaking event. Instead, I went straight to my mother with a demand: marry me to Robert Black—the most ruthless, cold-blooded titan of Wall Street, whose scarred face was feared by all. In the end, stripped of my financial backing, Mark's hedge fund collapsed. He became a disgraced fraudster, spat on by everyone on Wall Street.

I could see the countdown above a person’s head when they had already decided to leave their partner. The day my father’s countdown hit zero, he slapped a lawyer’s letter on the breakfast table and walked out on my mother and me. The day my best friend’s countdown hit zero, she finally threw her parasite of a boyfriend out of her apartment and changed the locks before sunset. That was why I’d always been terrified of seeing a countdown above my fiancé, Lucian Bellandi. Luckily, for seven years by his side, the space above his head had stayed clean. Lucian was the youngest Don the Bellandi family had ever seen. He owned the docks, the casinos, and half the South Side’s dirty money, yet he saved every soft part of himself for me. Until last month, when he picked me up after a family auction. I looked up and saw blood-red numbers stabbing into my eyes. [702 days, 14 hours, 22 minutes.] Less than two years. My heart tightened like a cold hand had closed around it. I started searching for an answer like a woman losing her mind. Had I done something wrong? Then, during a blizzard by the lake, we ran into Mia Crane at the back entrance of the Bellandi Hotel. Lucian had just brought her into his charity foundation as a new assistant. Snow clung to her hair and lashes. She was shivering from head to toe, but her smile was bright and painfully innocent. Lucian pulled a black silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to her. His face was calm. There was nothing openly improper in the gesture. But in that exact second, the countdown above his head jumped. [327 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes.] More than three hundred days, gone. And I knew I had found the reason.