Science Fiction Detective Novels

I could always hear strange noises coming from the room next to me. A cacophony of people having intercourse. The noise kept me awake all night. But the strange thing was, he lives alone.

It's 11:30 pm. Home alone, I decide to order some takeout. When the map shows the delivery guy is zero miles away, I receive a call from him. I pick up, only to hear unsettling silence from the other end. I hang up, annoyed. The next moment, the guy texts me, "Sorry, I'm hearing-impaired and unable to speak. I called to notify you to pick up your food as soon as possible. I can't explain things over the phone, and I apologize for that." Then comes another text. "You must've been waiting for a long time. I've left your order at your door, so please pick it up as soon as you can." Just as I prepare to open the door, I see bars of live comments—reminiscent of livestream chats—floating right before my eyes. "Don't open the door! That dude isn't a delivery guy at all! He's a murderer!" "He called you to check if you're a woman living alone!" "Seriously, why are all thriller story protagonists always so dumb? The delivery guy is obviously suspicious, yet she still wants to open the door."

When I got home, I received dozens of voice messages from a parent. They had been sent in the group chat with other parents of children in the same kindergarten class as my daughter, Lily. [Ms. Channing, didn't I tell you that my daughter is allergic to furry toys? Why did you allow that boy, Sparky, to give my daughter a hugging bear?] Ms. Channing quickly denied this. No child called Sparky had ever studied in the kindergarten. Another parent was also furious about this. [How can you claim that? My son said Sparky would always force him to play hide-and-seek. If he refuses, Sparky would grab his hair!] I quickly asked Lily what this was about. Lily took out a hugging bear from behind her back and told me about it. [Ms. Channing can't see Sparky. Only smart children can see him. Sparky is a little boy with red eyes. Every child who plays hide-and-seek with Sparky will get a hugging bear.]

The richest man in the country, Sebastian Vance, has a ring custom-made to my exact measurements, worth billions of dollars, for the woman who will be his bride. In the first life, my stepsister, Mia Lowe, slips on the ring and marries him. Sebastian claws her face, shouting, "She's not the one!" In the second life, my other stepsister, Lorraine Lowe, loses 30 pounds before marrying him. He shoves her down the stairs anyway and says, "She's not the one either." In the third life, my stepmother, Vivian Cole, grits her teeth and slices off a piece of her own flesh just to force the ring onto her finger. Sebastian sneers and pushes her under the bathwater, holding her down until her body goes limp. By the fourth life, out of options and terrified, they finally send me. I slide the ring on, and it fits perfectly. My entire family lets out a sigh of relief. But the second Sebastian lays his eyes on me, he draws a knife and stabs me to death. "Why is it still not her? Where is she?" In the last life, he has his assistant, Owen Hayes, deliver a ring to us. All four of us insist that it won't fit. Owen shoots us a strange look. "Mr. Vance said the rightful owner of this ring is among you."

Jane Waleski and her best friend, Emily Zuckerman, are average achievers on a good day and losers on a bad day, but they're quite proud of it! Or so they try to convince themselves. They read only the shortest books for book reports and always have the worst project for science class. On top of that, they are hopeless romantics. So Jane and Emily form Loser Club: an exclusive club of two. But when a new science teacher shows up at their school, Jane tries to impress her and suddenly finds herself trying to be not so average. Will she have to resign as vice president of Loser Club?

His love for science drove him mad, on seeing a teenager who was crazy in love with science he found himself attracted to her ocean blue eyes and her passion, he became obsessed with her and tried to merge the two things he loved the most: her ‘Dasha and robotics’. Being submissive and in love she became blind to his obsession and toxicness instead she let him get his way with her and gradually he turned her into a half human and robot.| If you are interested in this novel you can follow me on IG for teasers on a daily basis.

Nagbago ang buhay ni Arisielle Dominguez, nang ampunin siya ng pamilyang Del Quinco–Huangcho—isang mayamang angkang may limang anak na lalaki at isang babae na kaedad niya. Akala niya natagpuan niya na ang tunay na tahanan. Mula sa unang araw pa lang, alam na niyang iba ang titig sa kanya ni Knife Blade Del Quinco-Huangcho—ang tahimik, matalim, at misteryosong middle child na parang laging may tinatago. Lumipas ang mga taon. Si Knife, isa nang kilalang detective—brilliant, cold, at halos hindi na mahawakan ng mundo. Si Arisielle naman, isang designer na tahimik ang pamumuhay, pero hindi pa rin nakakaalpas sa mga titig at salita ng lalaking matagal na niyang iniiwasan. Hanggang isang araw, biglang gumuho ang lahat. Namatay si Katana, ang kapatid nilang babae, at ang mga bakas ng katotohanan ay nagtuturo sa isang lugar na tinatawag na Euphoria—isang lihim na mundo ng kasiyahan, karangyaan, at kasalanan. At doon sila muling nagtagpo. Sa lugar kung saan hindi mo alam kung sino ang inosente at sino ang nagtatago ng halimaw sa ilalim ng ngiti. Doon muling sumiklab ang tensyon—hindi na lang dahil sa nakaraan, kundi dahil sa pagnanasang hindi na nila kayang itago. Sa gitna ng mga lihim, tukso, at kasinungalingan—isang tanong lang ang kailangang sagutin: Hanggang saan mo ipaglalaban ang pag-ibig kung ang tanging bawal ay siya ring tanging gusto mo? "You're mine, Arisielle. My little sis." "I am always yours Kuya KB."

I'm staring at this man who looks exactly like my husband, overwhelmed by fear, as I received a message that read, "He's not your husband!"What's even more bizarre is that the name displayed as the sender of the text on my phone is "My Dear Husband"!Who on earth should I believe?

Celeste Cox sent me a photo on WhatsApp. I opened it to find a picture of the school heartthrob and me in an intimate embrace, the pose as suggestive as could be.

When I first started at Serenity Hills, the head nurse told me coma patients paid well—but the job was messy and brutal. They could only get IV nutrition. Screw that up, and you're basically killing them. Today was day thirty of looking after the girl. Young. Gorgeous. Like always, I hit the nurse's station to grab her IV bags— But then I saw it. Thirty glucose bottles gone. IV nutrition? Still sealed. Chills shot down my spine.