Anne Perry's Christmas Stories Novels & Stories

I asked him not to talk to Andrew, as he didn't know if it was Manu's desire to reveal her erotic stories to her family. —Manu used a pseudonym, but he was never shy about showing me his stories. I loved to read. It was just weird knowing she used you as inspiration for her protagonists. —She told me that. I haven't had a chance to read it, but I'd like to try. Maybe if I read these stories to her, I'll end up waking up something that makes her wake up. —I'll send you the website link. I really hope it works.

Both kids were up to no good. “Mom.” Perry's face grimaced, quickly noticing the dullness in her eyes. “Your eyes are puffy.” He stretched his palm to her neck, weighing the temperature. Stephanie clicked her seatbelt then placed her hands on Perry's own. “Mummy is fine.” She stared into his eyes. “Believe me.” Her eyes turned light, but her veins on her forehead still stood visible. “Let's go to the house. Freshen up. And prepare for the Christmas holiday.” Perry smiled warmly, then turned with a cocky grin to his brother. Bryan flashed a quick one at him. The diary—still hidden in place.

When Noah Levine came back, Christmas had already passed. I'd thrown that reindeer lingerie into a street trash bin. "Babe, I left in such a rush last night that I forgot to give you your Christmas present." He pulled out a sapphire necklace and swept my hair aside to fasten it around my neck. Because he leaned in so close, I could clearly see the red marks on his neck and smell the sickly sweet perfume that obviously wasn't his. Knowing the scent belonged to my own sister made my stomach turn.

The first day of Christmas always carried a certain kind of magic in Melody Hart’s small town, Snow Brook Valley. The weather, children laughing a little louder, every house setting up their beautiful Christmas trees. Melody always believed Christmas was magical, it was a time when God grants every single wish you make, to mark his son's birthday. This year, she didn’t feel any of it. The spark, the butterfly in her tummy, it was all gone. She woke to the soft glow of morning light slipping through the curtains and the muffled quiet that came with fresh snowfall. Normally, she would have smiled. Normally, the sight of December decorating the world would have made her heart swell with the chi