Novel & Cerita Christian Christmas Books For Adults

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.

Jennifer chuckled and retorted mockingly, "CEO? Do you really think she became CEO through her own abilities? Without Jeremiah and me backing her up, she's just a useless loser." Charles looked at Jennifer in disbelief. His eyes were filled with shock and anger. Annoyed by the noise, I told the bodyguards to drag the two of them farther away. I crouched alone by the seaside. The winter wind blowing from the ocean was icy and piercing. Little by little, I scattered Noelle's ashes into the sea. I said softly, "Today is Christmas, Noelle. It's also the day you were born. I'm letting you return to the ocean."

Somewhere in the city, church bells began to ring, ushering in Christmas morning. She was asleep before they stopped.

*** Later that day, Mom and Dad went out to visit a friend, leaving me alone with my stepbrothers. I was sprawled across my bed with my earbuds plugged in, completely absorbed in a Christmas movie. Outside my window, snowflakes drifted down in thick white sheets, tapping softly against the glass. The room felt colder by the minute, and unfortunately, I didn't have a fireplace like the rest of the house. Still, the movie was good enough to keep my mind off it. I was so engrossed that I didn't notice my annoying stepbrothers walking into my room.

Two Christmases Later Bahamas Snow had a way of making everything feel so beautiful, white and peaceful. It reminded the whole world of the Christ child. The beauty of the season. Melody watched it fall through the glass window of the café, her fingers loosely wrapped around the warmth of the ceramic mug in front of her, though she hadn’t taken a sip yet. She was waiting for her takeout order. Sitting in Bahamas after a long conference for entrepreneurs, in which she gave a speech Melody couldn't help but smile at how much has changed since this time two years ago. And this was the time she got her Christmas miracle. Her heart was filled with gratitude.

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.

The library doors didn't just close; they felt like they sealed the rest of the world away. Mateo didn't bother with the overhead lights. The only illumination came from the dying embers in the fireplace, casting flickering, orange-red shadows across the thousands of leather-bound books that lined the walls. "Sit," he said again, his voice lower than it had been at dinner.

Our counseling sessions had continued, not because there was anything wrong going on between Damien and I but because I needed answers for future issues. "We're both growing and sometimes I fear us backsliding and giving up on Christianity because of how clueless we are." I opened up to her. "The solution to this is to commit to growing. Through more time spent fellowshipping with the brethren and giving yourself to study. There are several Christian books that can guide you on your journey and the Bible is the number one book to look to. It is God's Word." She said. I nodded, "Book recommendations?" "Sure." I took out my journal and jotted down a list of books as she mentioned the names and

I have two others here on goodnovel that are completed if you want to check those out too. I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays

Christian looks at me and asks, "I assume you didn't know your grandfather was a famous anonymous writer." "Not at all," I respond, completely shocked. "Have you heard of Walk Away, When the Night Calls, or Her Beautiful Soul?" he asks, and my jaw drops, as does Max's. All these titles have been best-sellers for years. "He... he wrote all of those?" I stammer, utterly amazed.