Winter Books Mga Nobela at Kwento

Marnie Jones is an ordinary 11th grader. Her only intentions are to get good grades and save money for college with her babysitting job. Everything is going to plan. Until she gets a job babysitting the high school bad boy, Zeke Blakely. The two come from complete different social groups, and Marnie automatically hates Zeke and his big ego and cocky attitude. He's a player. He's dangerous. He's reckless. She's safe with an overthinking problem. As the two are seen hanging around school together, attention gets drawn to Marnie. Which she hates. But she also catches the eye of a handsome jock, too. And why, you ask, does a 17 year old boy need a babysitter? You'll have to read to find out. WARNING: contains vulgar language and mature scenes.

Leah is injured in the woods where Zachary’s wolf finds her. Before Leah passes out, she sees the werewolves transform into humans. She is treated by a girl when she wakes up who was sent by Zachary. Leah meets Zachary before she is taken home. Leah is still stunned as she gets home. She hadn’t known that Winstonville would be crawling with such creatures. She recalls what brought her to Winstonville with her mother in the first place, which is the death of her father. Leah arrives for the first day at school and meets Amelia. Amelia helps her adjust. Surprisingly, she sees Zachary in school and promises to approach him. Leah is late for biology class and is surprised to see Zachary who turns out to be her lab partner. She tries to start a conversation with him but he is disinterested. Leah is disappointed. The Elders of the Den are angry that Zachary exposed their secret to a human. Zachary challenges them with mad leaves. He thinks about Leah and how irked at her presence. His wolf feels otherwise. Leah tried to speak to Zachary in school again but he is still disinterested. Leah still doesn’t give up. She notices how Olivia is close to Zachary and feels that they are a thing. In class, she sits with Olivia coincidentally and she explains her relationship with Zachary.

On our honeymoon tour, my husband and I faced an earthquake. I thought I was lucky to have booked a flight home, but then Ethan Parker snatched my passport and fled with my stepsister, Lily Foster. Stranded on a foreign land, I saw her new post. Lily: [Talking about clinginess, no one beats Ethan.] An attached photo showed their hands intertwined. In the chaos, someone stole my phone and cash. When aftershocks hit, I couldn't escape and got buried in a collapsed building. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day of the first quake. Seeing Ethan bolt from Lily's room, I didn't say a word, just quietly canceled his plane ticket. If they loved each other so much, I'd let them go on and be a doomed couple.

I was the hospital's top surgeon. After three successful surgeries, Medical Affairs decided to reprimand me in front of the whole hospital and canceled my bonus for the month. I argued with the head of Medical Affairs. "I've been working for this place for ten years, and I've always been the first to do everything! I went through five surgeries nonstop last year and had to go through one myself for exhaustion! What did I do to deserve this?" Yes, I was the top surgeon, but the bills were stressing me out, too. My husband had just lost his job, and I had to pay for the car, the mortgage, and our kid's extracurriculars. The burden I had to shoulder wasn't an easy one. So, I was counting on that bonus to get my kid into a basketball club, and now it had been taken away from me. This couldn't be happening! I couldn't believe that they were blaming me for a successful surgery! I was high up in the hierarchy here, so the department head didn't start a fallout right away. Instead, he tried to calm me down. "You drank two bags of IV during the late-night surgery and charged the patients for it. Their family's complaining about unfair fees, and it went viral. We had no choice!" That reminded me. That surgery was a complex one, and it wasn't even supposed to be assigned to me. After all, I'd been working around the operating table for 36 hours prior to that. However, it was the deputy director who came to me and insisted that I take over. I had no choice but to go ahead.

Adrian Quirrel, the heir to the Quirrel family, had been in poor health since childhood. Guided by the old superstition that marriage could restore his health, his family had taken in four young women, with only one to be chosen as his bride. On the selection day, they invited a renowned astrologer to read our birth charts. As soon as he said I carried a healing energy and could bear healthy heirs, the Quirrels decided on the spot that I would be Adrian's bride. Three months later, his health miraculously improved, and I soon found myself pregnant with twins—a boy and a girl. The family elders were ecstatic and even promised that my son would become the Quirrels' future heir. But on the night of the christening, Adrian locked me and the babies in the basement. I broke down and demanded an explanation. He sneered and replied, "If it weren't for your so-called 'healing energy,' Emily would've been my wife. "She wouldn't have jumped to her death at such a young age if she hadn't been pushed to that point. Tonight, I want you and your children to accompany her in death." He grabbed a nearby iron rod and savagely brought it down onto our babies. I threw myself over the babies, but Adrian kicked me aside. Blood splattered across the walls and floor, and my babies' breathing gradually weakened until it stopped. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Adrian chose his bride.

My son spiked a sudden high fever, scorching like a flame under my touch. I frantically dialed 911 for help, but the dispatcher on the line kept repeating questions, dragging it out. By the time the ambulance siren finally wailed in the distance, my son had already grown cold and still in my arms. Less than a year later, my husband and I split up amid endless grief and finger-pointing. I dragged on like an empty shell until one day I got an e-invite to his wedding. The moment I clicked the voice message, my blood ran cold. The bride's voice echoed exactly like that sluggish dispatcher from back then. In a breakdown, I bolted out of the house and got caught in the path of a speeding subway train, plunging me into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, my son's cries pierced the air from the next room, his forehead blazing hot against my palm. My husband thrust the phone toward me. "Quick, call 911! I'll grab a cold compress." My hands trembled as I dialed, and a chillingly familiar voice answered, "Hello, 911 emergency services."

Sera Vale has one rule. Survive. No attachments. No illusions. No one worth losing sleep over except her brother Damien, who has always been more trouble than sense and twice as easy to love. When three men tear her door off its hinges in the middle of the night and carry her blindfolded into a world she never knew existed, Sera does what she has always done. She endures. The man waiting for her is Kael Dravon. Alpha. Cold the way deep water is cold. Dangerous the way beautiful things always are. He doesn't want her. He wants what her brother stole. Sera is leverage. One month, he tells her. Then she goes free. She tells herself she can last one month. She doesn't count on the blood bond. She doesn't count on what happens when something ancient cracks open between them, raw and unstoppable and impossible to name. She doesn't count on the way he looks at her when he thinks she isn't watching. She doesn't count on wanting to stay. Kael built his entire world on control. The last thing he needs is a human woman with quiet fire in her eyes and blood that makes his wolf forget every rule he has ever lived by. But the bond doesn't care what either of them needs. And the rival Alpha closing in from the borders isn't just hunting territory. He's hunting Sera. Because what runs in her blood is older than pack law and more powerful than anything Kael has ever had to protect. Now she must decide if the man who chained her was the only one keeping her safe all along. Bound by blood. Owned by fate. Some bonds were never meant to be broken.

Our daughter, Luna Woods, developed a high fever. Her body was burning hot. I immediately dialed 911 for help. The dispatcher on the other end kept repeating his questions. He spoke slowly, as if deliberately stalling for time. By the time I finally heard the ambulance siren, Luna was already turning cold in my arms. In less than a year, my wife and I separated. We were consumed by endless grief and blamed for each other. Afterward, I merely existed for the sake of it. I was a hollow shell of a man. Then, one day, I received a wedding invitation from my ex-wife. The moment I played the audio invitation, a chill ran down my spine. The groom’s voice was identical to that of the slow, dawdling dispatcher from that year! I rushed out, utterly distraught, only to be hit by a roaring train. When I opened my eyes again, I heard Luna crying in the next room. Her forehead was burning hot. My wife hurriedly handed me the phone. “Quick, call 911! I’ll get a wet towel.” My hands trembled as I took the phone. When it was answered, I heard a familiar male voice through the receiver. “911, what’s your emergency?”

My parents have invited all of their relatives and friends to our villa for a nice gathering to celebrate their golden anniversary. Isabel Atkinson, my wife who works as a model, suddenly calls me on the phone and claims that she needs to attend an urgent meeting hosted by her client. Before it's my turn to give a speech on the stage, my assistant suddenly hands my phone over to me. "Mr. Marsh, you might want to take a look at this…" The screen shows a social media post made by Miles Horton, an intern designer at our company. "At this moment, she belongs to me and me only." In the photo, Isabel can be seen sitting in a dimly-lit room. A few plain-looking dishes decorate the table. Her hair is slightly messy, but she continues to smile at the elder next to her. A cold, mocking smile appears on my face. It turns out that her so-called emergency meeting is a family gathering with Miles. I leave a comment in the comments section. "The food looks pretty tasty. I'd like to visit you next time." Chaos erupts on the social media feed instantly. Isabel calls me immediately. "Why are you being such a phony? You'd better delete the comment right now!" I just chuckle coldly as I end the call. Then, I send her a copy of the divorce papers I've drafted. Since Miles' matters are clearly more important to her, then she can forget about coming home forever.

After I failed the mission, the system began to unravel my memories, thread by thread. I was done letting my world revolve around Theodore Calloway like I used to. And I was done trying to stop him from moving his cousin into his home to take care of her for the rest of his life. It was meant to be the perfect ending for everyone. But when I died, Theodore’s desperation drove him to the edge of madness, and he begged for one final glimpse of me. I thought our story had ended there. Then, the system dragged me back to save a world that was already starting to fall apart. When I returned to the Calloway Residence with my son, Theodore hurried toward me, a little boy clutching his hand. His eyes were red-rimmed, his voice unsteady. "Amanda, are you leaving us?" I blinked. Because to me, they were nothing but strangers.