Christmas Cat Pfps Novels & Stories

In my previous life, I was eight months pregnant when my mother-in-law and husband forcibly dragged me to grab decorative gift boxes from the Christmas tree. I told them there was nothing inside, but my mother-in-law slapped me across the face while my husband pulled me into the crowd. A stampede broke out. They clutched their gift boxes and fled to save themselves, while my child and I were trampled to death. They eagerly tore open all the gift boxes with high hopes, only to find exactly nothing, just like I'd warned them. But as I lay dying, I noticed something in the final gift box. A Black Widow spider with an hourglass pattern on its belly crawled onto my mother-in-law's hand. This spider carries deadly venom. Anyone bitten either dies or suffers permanent disability. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on Christmas Day. This time, watching my mother-in-law and husband gear up to fight over those Christmas gift boxes, I won't try to stop them!

My husband lies to me about working late on Christmas Day. I know he wants to give me a surprise—I saw a jewelry set worth millions of dollars in his pocket. However, all I receive is the news of him pretending to be Santa Claus as he delivers a gift to his female secretary. She flaunts it on social media. "You're the most precious Christmas gift I've gotten." My husband changes the background photo on his social media to a photo of them together. I smile and like the post. Later, the secretary comes to me and smugly says she's pregnant. Meanwhile, I pull out a diagnosis report verifying that my husband is sterile. "Checkmate!" She visibly panics.

'I might hiss, but don't you dare call me a cat,' Charlotte Green. She might look like a cat, she's small like one, when happy she'll purr, when she's mad she'll hiss and even use her nails. But don't you dare call her kitty cat unless if you have a death wish, rumour says she killed a whole wolf pack before, are you brave enough to mess with her? Charlotte Green, a witch, a very powerful witch, has royal blood in her along with some very strong relatives and friends, she's not one to mess with. But what happens when she's the one who messes with you? When you are the one who's getting the end of her messing with you? Would you fight her back or would you fall on your knees and apologize to your queen? Read with caution. (Dear Charlotte, hope you like it)

He was supposed to be her fake fiancé for one snowy Christmas week. He turned out to be the billionaire judge who could make or break her dreams. Desperate to save her failing small town bakery, Elodie Voss enters the Hart Holiday Bake-off, a nationally televised competition with a $500,000 grand prize. There’s only one problem, it’s time for her family’s yearly Christmas retreat and they are determined to find someone for her to marry. Solution? Hire her grumpy, very hot neighbour Cassian Hart as a pretend fiancé to keep them off her back. Cassian agrees instantly, anything to escape his own family’s matchmaking. What Elodie doesn’t know, Cassian isn't just rich. He’s the reserved heir to the Hart Estate of Cuisines empire-the secret major sponsor and final judge of the very contest she’s competing to win. When Elodie's vicious step-sister uncovers the truth and threatens to expose them on live television, one fake relationship becomes terrifyingly real. This Christmas the sweetest prize isn’t the trophy. It's deciding whether to trust the man who could ruin her…or the heart he’s determined to win.

I was six months pregnant when my husband's childhood sweetheart showed up on Christmas Eve, pregnant too, demanding her place in his life. Smiling, I welcomed her in. "Come on in. Make yourself at home." In my previous life, I had forced my husband to kick Shirley out. She collapsed from low blood sugar and froze to death that very Christmas Eve. Matthew did not hold it against me. On the contrary, he softened, stayed by my side and took care of me while I waited to give birth. However, when the baby came, despite being an obstetrician himself, Matthew sent our healthy newborn son straight to the morgue. I begged him desperately, but his face was twisted with hatred. "If you hadn't been so petty and dramatic, Shirley wouldn't have died along with her baby!" "You're heartbroken over your son? Then go freeze to death too. Pay for Shirley’s life with your own life." Just like that, I opened my eyes again, back to the moment Shirley arrived on Christmas Eve.

. After losing yet another child, Cat Bamford discovers the unthinkable. Her Alpha husband may have been the reason all along. When she catches him with her best friend, she cries. She begs. She opens her eyes. She destroys the mate bond in front of the entire pack. But in Vancouley Hills, breaking a bond comes with a curse, Lose your wolf. Lose your name. Lose everything. Now stripped of her power and cast into nothingness, she becomes a rogue without a wolf. Cat has only one thing left: Her rage. And when she rises again… The pack that ruined her will burn

When I send the family car to the body shop for maintenance, an employee discovers a cat pregnancy guidebook wedged in the slot between the front passenger seat and the door. The cat's name is Rose. The signature shown on the furparent's slot belongs to my husband. "Christian Johannson, furdad of Rose." I'm stunned, to say the least. We don't keep cats at home. Coincidentally, Christian calls me on the phone. I ask him, "There's a guidebook in the car. When did you keep a cat?" He chuckles lightly in response. "There was a pregnant stray lingering around the company. I found it pitiful, so I brought it to the vet. It had already given birth last month. Now, it and its babies are the apple of the whole company's eye." With a smile, I praise Christian for being a kind-hearted soul. After ending the phone call, however, I begin reading the guidebook meticulously. Rose is apparently a short-haired cat. She's now two years old. As for the cats living in Christian's company, I've seen them in his colleague's social media posts before. All of them are tabby cats. After closing the guidebook, I take down the vet clinic's name. Then, I drive over to that location.

REINA Five thousand dollars to babysit Alan King's adorable, grieving son for Christmas break. The moment I perch on his lap to sign the contract, I know this would be much more than a simple nanny job. Nannies don't wear cuffs or collars, and they definitely don't choke on their boss's c**k. Right? ALAN She's bright, loud, annoyingly delicate-and eighteen years younger. Yet, all I can think of is how to break her in the filthiest ways possible. She doesn't belong in my world, but she's brave enough to step in. Reina Summers is completely mine this Christmas, and I plan to unwrap every inch of her until she learns exactly who she belongs to. WARNING: THIS IS A DARK EROTIC ROMANCE. SCORCHING HEAT WITHIN. HIGHLY ADDICTIVE.

When my husband and I drop by his childhood home for Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law, Melissa Potter, is the only one busying away in the kitchen. Everyone else is on their phones. I've just taken a seat when Melissa begins to lecture me. "What, are you just going to sit your ass down and wait for food to come? Don't you know when to lend a helping hand? Am I supposed to exhaust myself for your sake?" From time to time, she keeps rattling the pots and pans loudly. "I can't believe those with healthy bodies want a 70-year-old like me to serve them! Does anyone here have any conscience?" Feeling a little uneasy, I gave my husband a tiny nudge. "Why don't you help Mom out?" After Melissa hears my suggestion, she gets even more pissed off. Thinking that this is my first Christmas with my in-laws, I don't really want to cause a scene here, so I get up to my feet and help her out. But the moment I enter the kitchen, Melissa delegates all the tasks to me. I endure my fury as much as I can while finishing the Christmas dinner preparations. When I'm about to head back to the dining table and dig in, Melissa suddenly speaks up. "Hold up. We got scores to settle before dinner."

A doomsday blizzard hit just before Christmas. The zombie virus exploded. Our fortress was a top-tier ski resort. Now, it was about to fall. My husband, Ethan, was a former Navy SEAL. Our head of security. He swore his defense system was foolproof. The blizzard knocked out the power. But he’d sent all the backup generator fuel to the summit. Just to light up a Christmas tree for Chloe. He even had a few guards up there with them, throwing a party. In my last life, I fought him. I herded everyone into the last bunker. But Chloe whined. A crowded Christmas was boring, she said. She stormed out of the safe room and ran right into the jaws of the horde. Ethan carved a path through the horde to secure the walls. Then he sat in silence, cradling Chloe’s bones. He pretended he wanted to start over with me. He let me get pregnant with his child. The day I gave birth, he knocked me unconscious and dumped me into a nearby zombie nest. He always rescued me just before I died. He’d inject me with a serum that kept me from turning. Nineteen times, he threw me to the zombies. I died in agony as they tore the flesh from my bones. "If you hadn't sabotaged my defenses," he’d hissed, "if you hadn't crashed our party and led the horde right to us, Chloe would still be alive!" I opened my eyes. I was back. Christmas Eve.