Deshae Frost Novels & Stories

"What's wrong? Is being Mrs. Astor making you nervous?" Frost looked down at Bianca and said in a low voice, "I've never been anyone's husband before, but I'm not nervous because Mrs. Astor is not just anyone, she's you, Bianca!" "Stop talking!" Bianca interrupted Frost. Her mind was in chaos, thinking, "Oh no, the curse of the 'wealthy client reaper' has come true again! I hate attracting such unnecessary trouble, but trouble always comes knocking on my door. But this Frost is different from all the past 'troubles'. He has a kind of 'silent but astonishing', 'inevitable', and 'my way or the highway' vibe."

“This… this is just great.” Alex stared at her and asked calmly, “So should I call you Mom or something?” “Huh—?” Frostine’s eyes widened, confused. She then shook her head profusely. “You must be mistaken. How could I ever be… My name is Frostine Usoro, your father’s disciple. So, according to our statuses, I should call you my little brother.” ‘Little brother, my a*s!’ Before Alex could say a word, Frostine got on one knee as her purple shawl fell to the ground. Her red dress was rather sexy; hence her position made her look even more seductive.

¨Ms Frost please stand this way, that spot is kind of off, not visible to the camera¨. The photographer instructed and Cynthia shifted her leg, then paused like a diva in the dress. Her appearance was like that of a beauty god descended on earth to pronounce judgement over those that didn't merit in appearance.

“Sick burn, right?” “Totally.” She slaps her hand, and then the two of them nearly fall over. “Okay, I think that’s enough for tonight.” I look around for Caleb as I hear the two of them start to protest. He’s the one that dragged me out and now he’s nowhere to be seen. “You two have fun,” Frostie says as she grabs her coat. “I promised my cousin I’d make her fresh cinnamon rolls for her gender reveal party tomorrow. I’m staying with her tonight, and she’s my designated driver.”

Andrew Princess of Lycos. I kept my expression still. My body seemed relaxed. But inside, something shifted. Not panic. Not fear. Just a deeper awareness of the stakes. Charlotte Frost. The younger sister of King Alexander. That made her royalty, blood of the ruling line. A Frost. And I’d licked dirt off someone’s shoe last week. She stood there like a fragile thing and wide-eyed, like someone had swapped her spine for spun sugar. Seriously, if I’d sneezed, she might’ve fainted.

“Why is that any of your concern? You do not have any affiliation to this girl. Why are you butting in and trying to ruin my life?” Margaret’s jaw tightened. The officers and detectives were most likely watching from the glass demarcation. She would want nothing more than to kill him here. “Hailey is her name. Of course you probably don't even remember her name. One of the girls you promised love and deceived with your fake pretentious smiles. You could have let her go… you could have broken her heart alone and just let her go…but you… you…” Hailey…

“Aiden was alone, he was an orphan who just roamed around, he didn’t have anyone searching for him, no family or friends that would get him in trouble. He set his house on fire with him inside, and even worse, he forced me to watch every second of it. He forced me to watch my peace burn in front of me before he beat me to death that night. He challenged me to tell you, he told me that he was going to make sure that I regretted it when he told you, and…” I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tightly and she fisted my shirt, burying her head in my shirt. “I swear, the last thing that I wanted was to disgrace you, Dean. I needed an escape and I found myself being alone…” “Shh,” I whispered,

Winter dragged his chains of hoarfrost across the ground, and December came roaring into the world. Morozko was in Father Frost's kingdom of eternal snow, in the northern-most corner of Buyan, where the spirit of winter reigned supreme. Kind but capricious, Ded Moroz – or Father Frost in Anya’s lilting English – was known for granting maiden's wishes and freezing the less fortunate. Morozko, thankfully, carried a furnace inside him from his wayward father’s side, so he was impervious to the cold. He was temping as a bartender for the time being, working under his love-fickle mother Snegurochka: Ded Moroz's granddaughter and present-deliverer to a myriad excited Russian children.