Best Christmas Novels For Adults Novels & Stories

Lowering myself to her level, I held her shoulders gently and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “No,” I said softly. “No, honey. You just had a nightmare. That’s all.” She didn’t look convinced. “Mummy has no reason to hurt Daddy,” I added quickly. “I’ll be back soon. And guess what? We’re spending Christmas here with Grandma and Uncle Elliot.” Her face lit up instantly. “Yeah.” “I’m just going to get a few things for Christmas,” I said. “I’ll be back.” I turned away before she could ask anything else.

I had made it. ‎People rushed past me—families reuniting, couples holding hands, businessmen barking into phones—but I stood frozen near the curb, a small island in a chaotic sea of coats and scarves. A giant Christmas tree glittered near the taxi stand, its lights blurring as my eyes stung. ‎ ‎*Don’t cry, Ariana. You promised Mom you wouldn’t cry.* ‎ ‎I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of jet fuel and roasted chestnuts, letting the memory of the goodbye at the terminal back home wash over me.

He was tall, really tall for a Santa Claus, that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes—oh, his eyes. They were an icy gray that seemed to bare my soul, uncovering every hidden secret before his eyes. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine, but I couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the way those eyes made me feel, something so distinct yet I couldn't put my hands on it. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured, his deep baritone causing my heart to thrum so loudly in my chest I could only stand there and gawk like a damn fool.

My name was Giselle Sutton, and I had carried myself with a demure and refined demeanor ever since I was a child. No one knew the truth—that I desperately lusted after men. Although I was the campus belle, I only started dating my first boyfriend, Blake Finch, when I was about to graduate because of my parents' strict rules. The atmosphere during Christmas Eve was perfect. Blake brought me back to his rented apartment, wanting to give me an unforgettable first time. I pretended to be reserved, but in reality, I was already brimming with impatience.

Holly “There,” Holly whispered, carefully placing the last piece of tape. She smiled at her work. The wrapping paper was neatly folded around the corners and she’d even made the tape look nice. She wrote Nathan’s name in neat print on the corner. It was possibly the best wrapping she’d ever done on a present. It was just a copy of A Christmas Carol, but it seemed like the perfect Christmas Eve present for Nathan. She’d agonized over which book to get him for the Christmas Eve tradition, but had finally settled on this one.

Christmas was the reading of the book. This Christmas, Don's book was a novel—Norwegian, which was not a coincidence, a novel by the same writer whose essays were in the Norway reading programme. The novel was called The Dark Year, and it was about a man who spent a winter alone in a cabin in the far north of Norway, experiencing the full darkness for the first time. Don had been saving it since September, when he had finished the essays. He had placed it on the shelf above his desk, the designated holding place for the Christmas book, and had not opened it once.

The birds chirped away on the huge oak trees that provided cool shades to everyone, the pools were clean, big, and inviting. We made our way inside and Grandma Rose was seated on a queen-like chair, a glass of red wine swirling in her hand. Her makeup and dress made her look intimidating, the interior decoration of her sitting room was nothing like the taste of an elderly woman. “Aria," she called, rising from her seat with a bright smile. I hurriedly walked past Damon and into her open arms. “Good afternoon, grandma Rose." “You look so much beautiful just like last night," she commended.

A fucking Alpha! “Welcome to my home!” She squeals as she leads me into the grand living room. Christmas decorations hang on every wall, especially heavy over the warm looking fireplace. Despite that, the cold demeanor of the large room did not change. Bright, decorative lights reflect off the crystal chandeliers, lighting up the gloomy palace-like room. My gaze lands on the tall Christmas tree beside the glass windows, and my eyes widen at how beautifully decorated it is. I have never owned a Christmas tree, or celebrated the holidays. It is all new.

Arthur tells me. “What are your Christmas traditions?” Max asks; he’s finally back with us. “Ah, the Christmas spirit is designed for children. The joy of Christmas for adults is seeing the joy on the faces of the pack's pups. Every November, the adults come together to make an activity advent calendar for the pups. An example of this would be; on the 1st of the month, we decorate the pack land. On the 2nd, we hold our official secret Santa draw. On the 3rd, we write out our Christmas cards. On the 4th, we hold our Christmas fancy dress party, and we always put our Christmas trees up on the 13th. We include activities such as watching Christmas movies, Christmas cookie and cake baking, and a

She says nothing, simply flashing white teeth to me then turning away. Going teary? Elizabeth tugs at Michael's robe. "What have you given Charlotte for Christmas? I've not seen whatever-it-is." "That's because I haven't given it to her yet." He fetches a package from a cupboard, prettily wrapped and very obviously a book. As she pulls at ribbons and bows, it falls open to reveal a collector's edition of 'The Complete Sherlock Holmes'. Beaming, she retreats to an armchair, flicking through the colour plates...