Novelas y relatos de Die Another Day Novel

I was just a married woman trying to survive my husband’s debts. But when I took the job as a maid for three powerful, controlling, dominant men. I walked into something far darker than dusty shelves and dishes in the sink. They don’t just want their floors spotless. No, they want me bound and bent over on their bed. They say I’m too pretty to be stuck with a loser and too sweet for plain sex and too soft to resist them. And they’ll stop at nothing until they ruin my marriage, break me open and make me theirs. Even if it means dragging me into a world where dominance is law, and obedience is survival.

Five years after I mated to Alpha Derek Blackwood, his childhood sweetheart broke her mate bond with another Alpha and returned to our pack. Even worse, I had depleted my life force saving Derek when he was mortally wounded, and now I was dying. In the less than six months I had left to live, I continued to play the role of Derek's good mate. Until I passed away. And Derek, after reading the journal I left behind, completely fell apart.

When I was three years old, during a car accident, I was struck in the head by a car while trying to protect Mom. After that, the doctors said something inside my head had broken, and I'd never be quite right. Everyone back home called me the slow one. Late at night, I'd see her crying alone. On my seventh birthday, Mom took me to Manhattan, and that was when I discovered that she had a second home and another daughter, Charlotte. In front of strangers, she wouldn't claim me. She only let me call her Miss Eleanor. On the third night, She sat down at her vanity. On the table was a small black box. I thought it was a present. She opened the box and took out a black silicone bracelet, with a little light embedded in the clasp—small, dark, switched off. "This is called a TruthBand. It's something a company in California makes. The light turns green when you tell the truth, and red when you lie. If you wear this, Mommy will always know." She fastened it around my wrist. Tight. The little light blinked green. I thought that if I was good enough, she would love me the way she loved my sister. But then she made me do ski practice with Charlotte. Charlotte was a junior champion. "You're both my daughters. I don't play favorites. Whoever falls, gets punished." Charlotte never fell. I couldn't even keep my skis straight. Every single run, I was the one Mama dragged off the mountain and locked in the cellar. On Thanksgiving Day, Mama spent the whole afternoon cooking. I wanted to help. I dropped a bowl. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were red. She grabbed a little pill bottle off the counter, tipped my chin up, and forced something between my teeth. "Dumb as a rat. Are you happy now? Did you finally embarrass me enough? " I lay on the kitchen floor, gasping. While she wasn't looking, I scraped up three little pink pellets that had spilled and tucked them into my fist. Mommy, I told myself, I'll be good now, and then you'll be happy. Right?

What will you do when you feel that everyone around you have abandoned you? Can you cope up with the loneliness? Maybe Yes, Maybe No. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ New School. New Term. New Life.

"Can I taste you down there?" He said and I swallowed. "I want to claim you." His words disrupted my thoughts and I inhaled in a sharp breath. "When you fell on my hands before practically falling on the floor, I knew I just had to have you." His deep voice reverberated throughout the empty room. He was sounded confident—no he was confident. "Even if it's for a night." “I want to feel your skin on fire. I want to inhale the sharp of your breath as blood rushes through your body. Tell me bunny, are you wet right now?” He asked and I inhaled sharply. He growled. She was Fire, and he wanted to consume every bit of her. It was supposed to be a one night of fun, letting go and celebrating graduation from college. That was all Emma had bargained herself for. He was Gideon, the owner of the biggest club in New York and few other countries. A typical player? No that wasn't the type of man he was, but that didn't mean he didn't mind having some fun occasionally. Or maybe more than occasionally. What then happens when the one night of fun revolves into a forever when an unnerving situation binds both parties together? Would they be able to make the best out of the situation or would it turn out to be a disaster?

Andrew has everything, power, wealth, control. Until a single diagnosis takes it all away. Stage IV lung cancer. Three months to live. He shuts everyone out. No treatment. No pity. No weakness. Then Nancy Taylor hired to be his caretaker shows up, and refuses to go. She challenges him. Defies him. Sees through him. And no matter how hard he tries to push her away, she stays, steady, unshaken, impossible to ignore. Andrew doesn’t do attachment. He doesn’t believe in love. But with time running out and walls closing in, Nancy becomes the one thing he can’t control… and the one thing he can’t afford to lose. Because when the end is this close, falling might be the most dangerous thing of all.

She was meant to belong to God, but fate handed her to the devil instead. Mariella Santini was raised within convent walls as a nun after her father’s sudden “accidental” death. Days before taking her final vows, a single message shatters her faith: her father’s death was no accident. Her search for the truth draws her into the De Luca mansion and straight into the path of the most feared man in London’s underworld. Luciano De Luca, known as Il Re Nero, is the Black Heir of the Five Families. Cold, ruthless, and bound by an ancient law that demands a wife and an heir within one year, or he will lose his empire if he fails. Love is a weakness he buried long ago. Faith is a lie he never believed in. Until the night he bleeds at Mariella’s feet, and her touch binds their futures in fire and prophecy. One forbidden night. One impossible pregnancy. When Mariella discovers she is pregnant with Luciano’s child, she becomes the solution to his throne and the prisoner of a 280 days marriage built on rules, control, and denial. She is to be his wife in name only, protected but unloved, and destined to leave once the child is born. Yet as enemies close in and blood-soaked prophecies unfold, the lines between duty and desire blur. The closer Luciano pulls her into his world, the more dangerous it becomes to pretend he feels nothing. And the more Mariella prays for salvation, the more her heart betrays her. Will she return to the life she once vowed to live, or surrender to the Mafia King she cannot escape?

When I was four months pregnant, my fiance, who was a doctor, left me hanging when we were supposed to get married. This was not the first time; this was the sixteenth time. The first time, his nurse fainted at the sight of blood during an operation, and I waited for him for an entire day at the city hall. The second time, his nurse called, and he left me behind on a viaduct to buy daily necessities for her. Whenever we were about to get married, his nurse would call him for all sorts of problems. The final time was when he told me he was sick. Despite the rain, I rushed to the hospital, only to find that it was his nurse who was sick. He stayed by her side to care for her while he lied to me without batting an eye. At that moment, I began to hate him. I aborted our baby and left. But he chased after me and even traveled out of the country just to apologize.

As the holiday began, I encountered an exhilarating affair. One day, on a double-decker tour bus, I found myself locked in a passionate moment with a beautiful woman on the upper deck, all while my official girlfriend was napping on the lower level. The woman gently placed her soft hand on my upper body, murmuring sweetly, “See you tonight, love…” And just like that, I was completely captivated.

My name is Elena, and I died at twenty-two. My parents forced me to take my foster sister’s place and traded me for a territorial alliance. My mate was the most volatile heir of the wolf packs. Beaten bloody and fading fast, I made my eighth call for help. At my adopted sister Seraphina’s birthday party, she played the recording of my final, groveling plea—and laughed. My parents listened to those desperate calls with nothing but irritation, dismissing each one as theatrics, an inconvenience unworthy of their time. My brother snarled over the phone, “Then just die already!” So I did. In the end, it was my three-year-old daughter who made the final call—using her smartwatch to video my mother, live-streaming the freezer where my severed head lay. Now, my spirit watches from above as they all, one by one, begin to unravel.