Cast Of Santa's Little Helper Novels & Stories

"He's been incredible. For a playboy whore-bag, he's great with kids and quite the Santa. You might want to get up there if you want to sit on his lap." Lisa snorted. "He's my playboy whore-bag." "Yes, he is." Sicily patted her back. "Go get him." Marc glanced up at her, his cheeks burning pink as she got in line behind three little girls, who were giggling softly. They had to be pre-teens from what Lisa could tell. "Hi, there. What do you want from Santa this year?" Marc smiled warmly at the three little girls. "You?" One of them laughed and the others broke out into giggles.

The old man gives me a brief nod and then comes inside his home again. The Hale twins are playing in front of their lawn, with matching pigtails and dresses. The two have grown into two adorable seven-year-olds. They run towards my direction, pulling my hand to join their playtime. “We missed you, Charlie!” Tom cheerfully smiles at me, flashing her adorable set of teeth with eyes closed. Kacy, her twin, tugs my hand to capture my attention. The two drags me to their sand pit, showing me their half-finished sand castle in progress.

Even though I’m wearing a facade of adultlike indifference, I can’t help but feel a sense of childlike excitement building up inside of me as we inch closer to Santa’s chair. Finally, it’s our turn, and we step up to Santa Claus, who greets us with a hearty laugh. “Ho, ho, ho! Well, look who we have here. It’s Alpha Karl and…?” Santa’s eyes fall on me, and he gives me a quizzical look. “This is my elf,” Karl says, eliciting a punch in the arm from me. He smirks and rubs the spot where I punched him before he turns back to the man playing as Santa. “Jane the Elf.”

"A-A-Antonio," Andrea stuttered, looking like the blood had drained out of her face, as though she was seeing a ghost. The little boy stared with admiration at the man before him and shouted alarmingly, "Santa's in Town!" He wiggled his little body out of her arms and offered to carry the hats in. Antonio chuckled and insisted that he'd do that himself but placed one on the little guy's head. John thanked him and rushed back in excitedly.

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!"

“Yes, tonight. And wear something decent for once.” I rolled my eyes automatically. “You say that like I dress like a stripper.” If only he knew. “This is important,” he continued. “My friend’s son is flying in for Christmas.” “What friend?” “Patrick Laurent.” The name sounded vaguely familiar. “He was supposed to surprise us for the holidays, but your mother and I already booked that Aspen trip this weekend. So you’ll host him instead.” Something about the way he said man instead of boy made me pause. “And Ivy?”

A little boy with brown hair, and brown eye stomped up the stairs, put his hands on his hips, and glared at Joe. “Hello Carlton. Merry Christmas!” Joe said enthusiastically. “You’re not Santa!” Carlton snapped. “I’m not?” “No!” “Then who am I?” “I don’t know, but there is no Santa! Santa isn’t real!” “Who told you that?” “My big brother! He told me I was a big baby if I still believed in Santa.” “I see. Can I ask you a question Carlton?” “Ye….yes.” “Do you, in your heart, believe Santa is real?”

His mouth hung open like Santa was ten feet tall. Santa ho-ho-ho’d with exactly the kind of laugh only Ryker could pull off when he wasn’t trying. “Well, well, well,” he said, setting the giant Santa sack down. “I’ve heard there’s a good little boy in this home.” Storm shot his hand in the air. “ME!” he squealed. The room erupted in laughter. Santa knelt to Storm’s level, the bells on his boots jingling. Mrs. Claus (Mom, trying not to laugh) placed a hand behind Storm and kissed the top of his head.

"Shortcuts." "Yeah, you know, the cheat codes," I joked, shifting closer. I let my eyes linger on his face, lowering my voice a bit. "Come on. You’re the genius here and I’m just a guy trying to keep his head above water. Help a guy out, and I promise I’ll make it worth your while. I can get you premium tickets to the winter finals or anything else that's within my power that you'd like." Nathan looked down at the worksheet, then looked back up at me. For a second, I actually thought my charm had worked.

Her trauma with males was one of Dante's biggest obstacles when it came to courting her, that and her aversion to most things sexual. "Don't worry, Mel, nothing happened. The hunter planted him in the sack before he could get anywhere. I heard it all." Dante chirped in a bit too gleefully. "Wish I could've been there to witness the humbling of the almighty Elias." I stuck a finger out at Dante, and Mel chuckled. "I like her." She said with a smirk, and I stared at her in disbelief. It was the first time the witch had ever voiced her approval of another person, but it just had to be that damned hunter.