Bella Winters Novels & Stories

With a final nod and a polite thank you, Bella and her family were shown to their accommodation. Bella was led to a stunning room in Reid Carter's villa, and the moment she stepped inside, she couldn't help but be awed by its elegance and charm. The room was adorned with tasteful decorations, boasting a breathtaking view of the azure sea just beyond the windows. The warm Mediterranean breeze wafted through, carrying with it the scent of the sea, creating a tranquil ambiance that was nothing short of idyllic.

Then paused before adding, “Wait! Send me the media asking for an interview.” I could hear the excitement in my PA’s voice before I disconnected the call. I opened the door to see the kitchen was a mess. Flour littered the floor, with some kitchen utensils scattered about. Upon walking closer, I saw Winter by the sink, her index finger under the running tap. “Are you okay?” I asked, rushing towards her. This caused her to turn to me. “I was bored, so I tried to bake,” she said, casually. “What happened?” I asked, but I didn’t need an explanation to know what had happened.

On the day I was diagnosed with stage four cancer, Vivian Cross handed me a contract for a divorce reality show. I already knew that meant she'd lost another bet to her secretary, Miles Smith. They'd made ninety-nine bets over the years, and every time, Vivian let herself lose on purpose. She lost the house we decorated for our wedding. She lost the wedding itself. She even lost our son's body, handing him over so Miles could satisfy his twisted curiosity about the human body. Our baby had been seven months along when they donated his remains. He'd been so small. Vivian slid the contract across to me, tapping the papers. "Ethan, I lost another bet. It's just a reality show. Help me keep M

" For a moment I almost think she's breaking role when she smiles, but then I realize it's a humorless grimace. She slides her fingers over her phone, still holding my gaze. "Hi, this is Bella Swan from the library. I need to speak to Dean Thomas. Is he in? Why yes, please connect me. I'll hold." "No, wait!" Jazz hollers, sounding surprisingly concerned, but Bella only cocks one eyebrow without removing the phone from her ear. "You wanted to say something, Mr. Whitlock?" "Don't do this, please! We didn't mean it like that, you know? We'll do anything you want, right?"

She walked toward the door, the bell chiming as she entered. Inside, the shop was warm and filled with the scent of sourdough and honey. Behind the counter, an older woman was wrapping a loaf of bread in brown paper. She had silver-streaked hair pulled back in a practical bun, and her eyes—a startling, familiar shade of hazel—snapped toward the door. The bread slipped from the woman's hands, hitting the floor with a soft thud. "Isabella," she whispered. Bella stood frozen. The woman didn't look like a ghost; she looked like the future—a version of Bella that had survived decades of winter.

Wind rose with it, a low howl finding every seam in the stone, worrying at the frames until the castle itself seemed to groan in response—old timber complaining, mortar holding, Dawny breathing through its bones as winter pressed closer. Winter was returning with quiet insistence, as if it had never truly left. Belinda’s eyes followed. “It has been a rather bitter winter,” she remarked, her voice gone faintly absent—as if she were speaking about weather and nothing more. “Just like last time…” “Yes,” Julia said quietly. “Just like last time.” Belinda’s mind slipped, unbidden, to another bitter winter. Snow that wouldn’t stop. Castle walls turned white and silent. Another sickroom. Another d

“I hope it would not be too painful anymore. I was told that winter wolves’ presentations are longer and more painful, especially in your kind.” “Pardon?” he asked confusedly. “Mother,” Ainar suddenly called out to her in warning. The Luna’s eyes widened as if in realization. What did she mean by that? “Winter wolves?” Gavin asked carefully, looking at her in question. While he indeed has white hair almost fit for winter, he is from the South. It does not make sense. Surely, not all wolves with white hair or furs are winter wolves? “I came here to ask how you have been,” the Luna ignored his question. “But I also come bearing news.”

Elara's POV: Entering the Winter Ball felt like stepping into a fairy tale. The grand room gleamed with shimmering lights that dangled from the high ceiling, casting a magical aura with its enchanting decorations of blue and silver. Sculptures crafted from ice sparkled under the soft glow, depicting intricate snowy scenes that mesmerized the guests. Soft music serenaded the room, weaving through the laughter and conversations of the attendees. As we made our entrance, all eyes gravitated towards us.

When the girls approached the festival, Shadow perked up immediately. Mate! She looks beautiful, Shadow said when I snapped my head in Winter's direction. Goddess, Winter looked stunning in her light blue skinny jeans that hugged every curve of her toned legs. Her long, wavy auburn hair rested perfectly around her shoulders. Her beautiful heart shaped face flushed from the cold breeze. Her peacoat wrapped her perfect body. Do you smell that? Jade asked me through our mind link. It smells like peaches and vanilla.

Whispers of admiration rolled off their tongues, but none of them were bold enough to approach him. His aura was strict, and he wore not a single smile on his face. A light uproar came from the entrance as Winter arrived. She wore a white dress that flowed behind her. The fitted gown accentuated her curvy shape, and she had a badass look that made men drool. A smile crept onto Winter's face as she walked toward Klaus. She removed her fluffy jacket, handing it over to her assistant. "Klaus," she greeted with a smile. "Hello, Winter," Klaus replied with a small smile.