Bernard Santa Clause Movie Novels & Stories

On his way over to them, an elf handed him a candy cane, and Michael smiled. “Why don’t you take him over to look at the polar bears, and I’ll go check out the pictures,” Reid said, and Melody nodded. She wondered if he had noticed the odd exchange between the two, but she couldn’t ask him just now. “Dad! I met Santa!” Michael exclaimed, lunging at his dad. “I know!” he replied, catching him. “Did you tell him what you want for Christmas?” “Uh huh!” “What did you ask for?” Reid asked.

“Sir, I think you should get out there and have some fun. Maybe even…go on a date.” I blinked at him in surprise, letting out a sharp laugh. “A date? Me?” I said, shaking my head. “Come on, Fred, you can’t be serious.” But Fred’s expression stayed steady. He wasn’t joking. “I am serious, Mr. Saint Clair. You’ve been working non-stop, keeping yourself locked up here. It’s time to let go, sir. It’s almost Christmas.” I scoffed, giving him a dry smile. “Look, Fred, I know you mean well, but meeting someone isn’t exactly on my agenda. I’m not ready, and if I’m honest, I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

In the end, I couldn't bear to let Noelle spend the last Christmas Eve of her life filled with regret. I searched through every office on the entire floor and finally found a female doctor about the same height as Ivana. I begged her to pretend to be Ivana. An hour later, the doctor appeared beside Noelle's bed, wearing a Santarina costume borrowed from somewhere on the street. She was holding Noelle's favorite doll. Noelle cried tears of happiness. "I knew Mommy wouldn't abandon me." I covered my mouth and pulled Noelle tightly into my arms. A nurse took a picture of our final moment together. In the end, Noelle died on that snowy Christmas Eve.

So, instead of waking her, I throw a blanket over her and wrap my arm around her waist and just spend some time holding her. I let her sleep for a few hours while I watch a film and when I say that I watch a film what I really mean is that I pretend to watch a film while relieving the night events with Julia but now it's starting to get late and we need to do our Santa duties and get all the presents out for the morning.

So, I do the next best thing to be in the Christmas mood. I go to the bar and I pull out a bottle, dust clinging to the glass. I make popcorn, the buttery smell filling the kitchen. And when I curl back on the couch with both, I flick through the channels until I land on Home Alone. The one movie guaranteed to make me laugh when nothing else will. I pour myself a glass, clink it against the air, and whisper, “Merry Christmas to me.” The words barely leave my lips before a sound cuts through the room.

And right now, those whiskey-blue eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my thighs clench. I forced myself to move, taking my place beside the throne as the first family approached. A little girl in pigtails climbed onto his lap, and Mr. Clausen, who was as Santa,slipped effortlessly into character, deep jolly laugh and all. But every time the camera flashed, his gaze slid sideways, finding me. Lingering on the curve of my hips, the way the velvet hugged my breasts, the little jingle bells at my ankles.

Olivia asked, and I chuckled. “It's way past your bedtime, missy, and you're still up.” She frowned at that, so I tried to lighten up her mood: “But you'll see tomorrow; he's still gonna be here. He's not going anywhere, remember?” That seemed to lighten up her mood and give her something to look forward to as she nodded. “Come on, let's get you two ready for bed,” I murmured, taking both their hands in mine. Never in a million years would I have predicted that day would go the way it did; if someone had told me my ex-husband would show up dressed as Santa Claus, I'd probably have laughed in the person's face.

“It was Christmas when I came home for the holidays. I was devastated about breaking up with Marco over my parents, of course. So, browsing around for a bit to distract myself, I got this email. I didn't even remember having this account anymore, so I logged in again just to delete it. She closed her eyes at the memory. Definitive proof that her father was a lot worse than he thought. Charlotte had grown up hearing strange phone calls in the dead of night and visiting from men…creepy. That's why she feared when the senator told her he would hurt Marco if she didn't obey. But what she saw on Christmas Eve was proof live and in color that Bernard McKeena was one hell of a bad guy.

After Mass, Kate and Nate buy rice cakes at the town square. One is the awesomely purple puto bumbong and another the yellow bibingka. They also buy roasted chestnuts and bring all the treats home to Mr. and Mrs. Lapuz. On one trip to a very crowded shopping mall, Ecto sees a Santa Claus impersonator. Curiously, the Santa is Caucasian and not brown-skinned like most of the Filipinos. Of course Ecto has already figured out by himself that Santa isn’t real. To his surprise, after they get back home, Kate insists on teaching him the hooman custom of hanging a stocking.

By the time Yves Golding got home, it was already midnight. I was lying in bed, staring at a photo of him and Melissa Lane. His abs showed faintly beneath his red Santa suit as she leaned against them, eyes shyly closed. Their colleagues had left comments below the post, saying that they were a perfect match and that Yves was quite bold. Melissa commented, "You guys, stop making things up. Mr. Golding was just being kind by keeping a lonely soul like me company for Christmas!"