Christmas Film Express

On Christmas Eve, while her husband takes their son to watch fireworks with his first love, Justine Payne finally makes up her mind—she's getting a divorce. They've been married for five years. To everyone else, she's the lucky woman with the perfect life. She has a devoted husband and a smart, adorable son. But only she knows the truth—her husband has never let go of his first love. Even worse, the child she nearly died giving birth to can't wait to replace her with someone else. So, Justine decides to set them both free—a husband whose heart doesn't truly belong to her and a son who can't wait to replace her. She refuses to keep holding on to love that isn't returned.

I’d been dead a month before my family even noticed. It wasn’t concern that brought them to that realization. It was my silence after the so-called “dinner” with Adam Rossi, the infamous mafia boss. My father scoffed like always,“She probably shacked up with that bastard. Too busy spreading her legs to pick up the damn phone.” My sister texted me a photo of them smiling under the Christmas tree, ornaments twinkling like nothing was wrong. Bitch, she wrote. You better talk Mr. Rossi into working with Dad, or you might as well be dead already. And my mother—once the softer one—was now colder than the frost on their windows. “I told you, we should’ve sent Gia to charm Mr. Rossi. Serena always screws things up.” They didn’t think I would die. Not until they found my body—broken, rotten, and forgotten—in Adam Rossi’s basement.

"Master, it is done!" At exactly twilight, an unfortunate lifeless head rolled on the floor, completely detached from the body. "Good ! Have the express mail package delivered before midnight today." "BOOM!" the gun went off. Mila came rushing in with only a towel wrapped around her body. "What the fuck happened?" She asked the petrified Brant who sat on the bed with his legs wrapped up and his head cringed upwards. He did not reply her. She followed the line of his eyes and that was when she saw it, a perforation in her roof. The sunlight was literally shining directly on them. She looked back at Brantley in confusion, well, he looked more confused than she was. "What…?" She opened her mouth to interrogate him but decided against it. Instead, she climbed beside him and carefully took the weapon from his hand. He did not protest. "This is not a toy." She said, taking off the bullets and partially dismantling the gun. Just in case his itchy hands decided to touch the pistol again. **** Being the lone survivor of a fire accident that claimed her entire family, Mila Rivers is back to get the company that once belonged to her father. But she's got one problem... Brantley White, the new CEO,  son to the man behind her family's death and her childhood friend-turn-rival. She needs to get him out of her way at all costs, but she can't deny the fact that he's hot and she keeps on finding herself in his bed. He does not hide his desire for her, no matter how high a wall she builds between them. Would she be able to resist her Rival's desire to get her revenge or would she fall for him instead?

In an East London lock up, two film makers, Jimmy and Sam, are duct taped to chairs and forced to watch a snuff film by Ashkan, a loan shark to whom they owe a lot of money. If they don’t pay up, they’ll be starring in the next one. Before the film reaches its end, Ashkan and all his men are slaughtered by unknown assailants. Only Jimmy and Sam survive the massacre, leaving them with the sole copy of the snuff film. The film makers decide to build their next movie around the brutal film. While auditioning actors, they stumble upon Melissa, an enigmatic actress who seems perfect for the leading role, not least because she’s the spitting image of the snuff film’s main victim. Neither the film, nor Melissa, are entirely what they seem however. Jimmy and Sam find themselves pulled into a paranormal mystery that leads them through the shadowy streets of the city beneath the city and sees them re-enacting an ancient Mesopotamian myth cycle. As they play out the roles of long forgotten gods and goddesses, they’re drawn into the subtle web of a deadly heresy that stretches from the beginnings of civilization to the end of the world as we know it. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

"Just imagine all the things I can do to you now Anne. With you vulnerable, submissive, worthless, and at my every comand." He says then grabs my shoulder and whips me around. I try to keep my gaze down but his hand is on my face and he grips it hard, making me cry out in pain. Then he forces my jaw up to look at him. His cold eyes express power. Cold, heartless power. "But I won't touch you, ever. You're still a stripper, insignificant and meaningless and dirty." Marcella should have known it was a bad idea, that this was a bad idea. How did she end up working as a maid for Mr. Robinson? Why did she choose to be stuck suffering under his power? It was bad enough that she worked as a stripper for him, disguising her identity for as long as she could. But the minute she chose to leave and find something better, she ended up as his maid. And the answer remains the same… she’s doing this for her brother, and the one promise she made. Now she’s stuck working as a maid for the ruthless Mr. Robinson and as much as he takes advantage of her position, Marcella is not ready to give up. No. She will stay and remain strong with all that she has. And who knows? She might end up taming Mr Robinson.

re·pent /rəˈpent/ verb feel or express sincere regret or remorse about one's wrongdoing or sin. Haven is your average Christian young woman. She attends church, always reads her bible, and is the leader of her church's Youth Group. She even has the perfect Christian boyfriend, who she's sure she'll marry. Tristian is your average trouble maker. He drinks, smokes, and has no interest in religion. He's been sent to live with his religious grandmother harboring a lot of guilt and a horrible secret. When Haven meets Tristian, he turns her Christian world upside down and offers to show her a life outside of God. Her faith wavers as she falls in love with him and sets down a passionate, sinful path. She tells herself God will forgive her if she repents. But repentance means nothing when you're not sorry for what you've done.

Sierra returns to Willow Creek, her small village with a wish to have a simple Christmas with her family. Relationship and love was far away from her agenda after her rough divorce but a second chance came knocking on a winter morning in the guise of the hot, billionaire biker. She tries to run from her feelings but it only pulls her in, rolling her into a holiday of drama, choas and a whirlwind of emotions.

*** "Hands above your head, you put them down and I stop pleasuring you," he says sternly. "Yes," I cry out at the brink of tears. "Yes, what?" he demands. "Yes, Sin," I mutter, my voice barely a whimper. Sin approaches, ravaging me. ** After stealing from Sinclair Declan Sorvino, the last thing Summer Remmington expects is to be caught by Sinclair. To save her best friends, she stays behind to keep traces off them. Sin decides to keep her for Ninety Days if she agrees to be his for that time frame, then she will be free. Summer knew this was a trap, but still, she said yes. Something that started as a pleasure connection grew into more and Sinclair craving Summer. Summer catches feelings but discovers that Sin wouldn't ever love her because he loved his face wife. Sin finds comfort in another lady than her and she thinks it is because she can't fit his taste. Sin just doesn't want to express love to another woman, especially after what happened to his last wife. Will Summer stand the test of love and make Sin see how in love she is with him and how grieving is OK? Does Sin fall for Summer? Read on to find out.

On Christmas Eve, my father got the man I had secretly loved for ten years drunk and sent him to my bed. When I woke up the next morning, Roy pulled away from my attempt at a good-morning kiss. His voice was cold and distant as he agreed to marry me. After the wedding, Roy wasted no time submitting a transfer request. He took an overseas post and left. He did not return for five years. I gave birth to our daughter, Eve, alone and waited for him to come back home. When I heard that Roy had finally applied to return to a domestic position, I was overjoyed. I spent days preparing, imagining our first reunion as husband and wife. But even when the clock struck midnight, he still hadn't come home. Our daughter, ever so thoughtful, placed her most treasured possession—a photograph of Roy—into my hands. "Don't cry, Mommy," she said softly. "Look, Daddy's right here." I tried to convince myself that his absence was due to a delayed flight. But later that night, while watching the news, I saw him. He was on a crowded city street, holding a young girl in his arms. Beside him stood a woman, her smile soft and warm. Facing the camera, Roy said, "Being with them is my greatest wish." At that moment, something inside me broke. I wrote up the divorce papers, packed our things, and planned to take Eve to change her identity. I didn't want him anymore. The day before we left, a man I had never met came to see me. He was Roy's father. "You could call me Dad," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I'd rather you call me Ryan." I told him everything about the past five years—how I had waited, how I had hoped. When I finished, he laughed softly, an unusual warmth in his voice. "If it was just business," he said, "perhaps your father should have tied a bow around me and sent me to your bed instead. But I hold my liquor well—if I ever end up wrapped in a bow, you can be sure it's by choice."

A Werewolf's Vow: Mated by the Letter To my dearest stranger, My day has been so tough to the point that I almost wanted to end my life. Wanted to slash my throat with a knife, drink and eat something with poison, or even planned to drown myself. Why was the world so mean to me? Why is my life this miserable? And why can they just leave me alone? I can't take it anymore. I only wanted to live a normal life, away from humiliation, deprivation, and bad luck. So, I'm writing this letter, thinking you might hear me out. Funny, but this is the only way I could express my thoughts. And for the record, this has been my eighth and final letter to send off. And whoever you are, it was nice meeting you. Hopefully, when you get the chance to read this letter, you'd send me something in response. For us to know each other better. I'll be waiting. Love, Joshua Craig.