Kris Kringle Year Without Santa Claus Novels & Stories

At the family dinner over the holidays, Elias Barrett has given all of our relatives and their children thick wads of cash. When it's my turn, he just frowns at me. "We've been together for so long. What's the point in going through the motions? You're the one managing the finances, so you can just withdraw what you need from the account." I merely nod without saying anything. But soon, I notice a text message from his bank popping out on the notifications' list. "You have transferred 1,430 dollars to Jamie Sutton. Remark: Babe, happy holidays. XOXO Elias." It turns out that Elias' anti-formalism rule is meant for me, not others. I don't bother starting a fight or throwing a tantrum. Instead, I just cancel the booking on my wedding venue that will be used next month. After that, I shred the kidney donation consent form meant for Elias into pieces. Once the holidays are over, I'm not going to extend Elias' life for him anymore.

Marked by Monsters Genre: Dark Fantasy Romance, Reverse Harem, Academy, Monster Mates I thought I was human. Normal. Boring. Cursed with a gluten allergy and a sarcastic streak. But on my eighteenth birthday, lightning slammed into my chest like a cosmic bitch slap, and I woke up with no memory… and a very illegal ability to shift into a silver and black wolf. That’s when the enforcers came. They called me a threat. A ticking magical bomb. And they threw me into Gravemire Academy, a creepy, ancient school built for supernatural disasters like me. Now I’m the new girl in a school where detention can literally kill you, and every hallway smells like blood, sex, and secrets. Worse? I’m being claimed by four dangerously hot, infuriatingly possessive monster boys who swear I’m their fated mate: 🐺 A broken alpha with murder in his eyes. 🐉 A dragon prince with a sharp tongue and sharper claws. 🧛‍♂️ A vampire who looks at me like I’m his last meal. 😈 And a dream demon who touches me like he already owns my soul. Each kiss makes my magic spiral. Each touch unravels a curse tied to my bloodline. If I kiss the wrong one first… I might doom them all. Oh, and there’s something ancient inside me. Something powerful. Something waking up. I don’t know who I was before Gravemire, but one thing’s clear: I’m not just their mate. I’m the weapon that was never supposed to exist. And I’m done being controlled.

I'm on a vacation during the holidays. When I'm scheduling to buy a ticket home, I accidentally oversleep. Still, I manage to secure a train ticket home. Due to the uncomfortable ride, I reach home looking very haggard and wretched. As soon as I step through the front door, I see someone stuffing a bunch of cleaning appliances into my arms. A woman can be seen gazing at me haughtily. Then, she starts ordering me around. "Hurry up! You must clean up this house by 6:00 pm tonight!" I notice that she's wearing my mom's pajamas. Then, I retreat to the doorway just so I can study the double-storied mansion again. This is my home! But who the hell is that woman? Also, who does she expect to clean up this place? Me? As in the only daughter of the wealthiest man in the city? I tap on my family's group chat and tag my dad. "@Dad: Hey, why did your new flame order me to clean the house?"

My childhood sweetheart who promised to marry me the moment I graduated proposed to Camille Willow, my sister, during my graduation ceremony. At that moment, Dennis Malcolm, the most eligible and admired bachelor in Blington City's elite circle, stepped forward and confessed his love for me immediately after my childhood sweetheart's proposal was accepted. For five years after our marriage, Dennis showered me with devotion, treating me with such tenderness that it felt as though I were the center of his world. But everything shattered the day I overheard a conversation between him and his close friend. "Dennis, now that Camille's on top, are you really going to keep pretending with Tracy?" "It doesn't matter. I'll never have Camille. Besides, as long as I'm here, she'll never disrupt Camille's happiness," he answered. The paper notes he held dear, each one carefully preserved, revealed a harsh truth. Each one carried her name, accompanied by heartfelt wishes: "May Camille be released from her burdens. May she find peace within herself." "May Camille achieve all she dreams of, and may her heart love freely." "Camille, we were never meant to be together in this life. I can only hope that in another, we will walk side by side." … Five years of devotion shattered in a single moment of clarity. I crafted a false identity and planned an elaborate drowning to vanish without a trace. From this day forward, in this life and all others, we shall never cross paths again.

Tony Gambino never forgave me. His childhood sweetheart died saving my life, and for seven years, his hatred was a constant, silent burn. I fasted. I prayed. I begged for absolution. He met my penance with a cold sneer. "I'll only forgive you when you're dead." The words were a knife to the heart. So why, when we were both poisoned, did he shove the only antidote down my throat? As the poison claimed him, blood trickling from his lips, he choked out his last words, "Scarlett... in our next life, let's never meet." Later, I tried to visit his grave. His sworn brother and Consigliere, Richard Bruno, blocked my path. He pressed a gun to my forehead. "I don't know how you have the nerve to show your face here, Scarlett. He'd be alive if he hadn't saved you. "I should never have let him give up Elma for you. You're a curse. Everyone who gets close to you gets destroyed." Their eyes were unanimous in their blame. And they were right. So I watched his gravesite from a distance, my own guilt a heavier stone than any marker. Not long after, I was killed in a gang crossfire. When I opened my eyes, I was seven years in the past. This time, I made a different choice: I let Tony go—so that everyone might live.

I want a divorce.” Andy blinked. “Divorce? You’re joking.” But Anna wasn’t smiling. “No, Andy. I’m done. I won’t share a roof with you and your mistress.” Andy scoffed. “Be serious, Anna. You can’t live without me. You need me.” Anna’s smile turned deadly. “Oh, you think so?” She stepped closer, her voice sharp as a dagger. “Watch me, dear husband. I can live without you.” *** She walked away with nothing—except her pride. When Anna Roberts discovers her husband has moved his mistress into their home, she makes the boldest decision of her life: divorce. With only her son and her dignity, she steps into an unfamiliar world determined to start over. Mocked for her weight, underestimated by everyone—including herself—Anna transforms her pain into power. She works, she fights, and she rebuilds. Soon, she’s no longer the woman Andy could belittle… she’s the woman he’ll never deserve again. But then there’s Gerald Smith. Her powerful, disciplined boss. The man who never mixes business with pleasure. Until Anna. What begins as temptation spirals into something dangerous—something forbidden. Gerald knows one wrong step could ruin them both, but walking away from Anna might destroy him more. Anna thought her divorce was the end of her story. But it was only the beginning.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I was straddling my Mafia husband, Lucian, kissing him deeply. My fingers fumbled in the pocket of my expensive silk dress, searching for the pregnancy test I'd hidden there. I wanted to save the news of my unexpected pregnancy for the end of the evening. Lucian's right-hand man, Marco, asked with a suggestive smile in Italian: "Don, your new little canary, Sophia. How does she taste?" Lucian's mocking laughter vibrated through my chest, sending a chill down my spine. He replied, also in Italian: "Like an unripe peach. Fresh and tender." His hand was still caressing my waist, but his gaze was distant. "Just keep this between us. If my Donna finds out, I'm a dead man." His men chuckled knowingly, raising their glasses and swearing their silence. The warmth in my blood turned to ice, inch by inch. The one thing they didn’t know was that my grandmother was from Sicily, so I understood every word. I forced myself to remain calm, keeping the perfect smile of a Donna fixed in place, but the hand holding my champagne flute trembled. Instead of making a scene, I opened my phone, found the invitation I had received a few days ago for a private international medical research project, and tapped "Accept." In three days, I would disappear from Lucian's world completely.

On the day Fiona Starr and Mark Zimmer tied the knot, his childhood friend jumped off the Starr family's thirty-story apartment and was reduced to pieces. The wedding wasn't called off, but in the ensuing three years, Mark's poker face became even more creepy, even though he would do everything Fiona asked. Then, when Fiona was three months pregnant, she was told that her father had gone missing. But instead of taking her to file a police report, Mark took her up the peak of the mountain, where Fiona saw her father. His whole body was swollen and bleeding everywhere, and he was barely alive as he lay on the ground. There were puddles of his blood everywhere, after someone tied him to a car trunk and dragged him up along the mountain road. That was when Mark gave Fiona the same treatment, even though she was pregnant with his child. As his car dragged her up and down the mountain, her legs were reduced to bloody stumps, but she didn't die there. So she locked her up in a basement in the company of rats that nibbled and devoured her legs. She despaired, her mind breaking until she eventually stopped breathing too… But she opened her eyes again and found herself returning to the day before she married Mark, whom everyone called the Starr family's live-in son-in-law. Smiling through her tears, she told herself that she wouldn't choose him again in this life.

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.

"Mommy, you have to be the first person to come pick me up, okay?" These are my daughter Dorothy Grant's final words to me when she walked me out of the house this morning. But when I stand at the kindergarten's entrance with a box of Dorothy's favorite strawberry shortcake in my hands, the security guard just stares at me as though I lost my mind. "Ma'am, this place might be where Sunflower Kindergarten is located, but it has already closed its doors for three years. This place is now a retirement home." I rush into the "kindergarten" instantly. The spot where the slide used to be is now replaced by a row of flowerbeds. The room that used to be the classroom now hosts a bunch of elderly people, who bask in the sunlight. With trembling hands, I call my husband, Chester Grant, on the phone. He sounds very exasperated and exhausted over the phone. "Honey, we've been married for five years, and we choose to be childless. You've never given birth before."