Winter Books Novels & Stories

The frost garden had transformed overnight into a living labyrinth of glowing ice hedges and shimmering crystal arches, part of the manor’s ever-shifting solstice festivities. Lanterns floated like fireflies, casting multicolored light across the snow while distant laughter and music drifted from the main grounds where guests enjoyed sleigh rides and storytelling around crackling bonfires. The Festival of Eternal Flames — a grand night of torchlit processions, fire-dancing rituals, and glowing ember offerings to the winter spirits — was still hours away, but the manor had opened the enchanted maze early for those seeking “private wonders” before the main celebrations began.

January 2005 It was a cold January night. The winter wind was blowing throughout the valley village of Ravenna. The nine-year-old Rowan was lying in her bed in her family’s cottage. The window by her bed was closed tight, but she could still feel the freezing wind creeping in and gnawing at her beneath her blankets. This hardly bothered her, however, as she had lived through many winters just like this one in her young life. In fact, Rowan often found the cold to be rather soothing, as it helped her to drift off to sleep, but she was having trouble closing her eyes tonight.

Chapter 113: The winter had settled deep into the village, wrapping its cold fingers around every cabin, every fire, every wolf who walked the frozen paths between the buildings. The days were short, the sun barely clearing the treeline before sinking back into the grey horizon, and the nights stretched on, endless and dark, filled with the howl of wind and the crackle of burning wood. The village had learned to live with the cold, the wolves moving slowly, their bodies conserving energy, their voices muted, the laughter of the children subdued but still present.

My hands trembled as I exited the group. I went straight to Nocturne. When I reached the entrance of the private room, I saw Ronan inside wearing nothing but his underwear. Brynn was dressed just as revealing in nothing but a bra and panties, like a makeshift bikini. She looked annoyed. "My luck sucks tonight. I keep losing. If this keeps up, I’ll be completely naked." She walked over and slapped his backside. "Good thing my obedient son is here to keep me company. Daddy doesn’t have to humiliate herself alone."

He stubbornly believed that if he also climbed that snowy mountain and endured what I did, I'd forgive him, or he could at least prove that his tough love parenting wasn't wrong. "I'm going to bring Julian home," he muttered to himself in front of the mirror. He was unshaven, his eyes wild and frantic. "Julian, I'm coming to get you. I brought you clothes." He slung on a backpack identical to mine. It was stuffed full of down jackets, hand warmers, and a thermos. None of which he'd given me back then. He set off alone for that snowy mountain. That day, the blizzard in the mountains was even fiercer than on Christmas Eve.

It is a trading company. Today I have the Winter. co and several affiliated companies all over the country. Several properties and factories, hotels, and stores. And the best part is no one can find out it’s me who owns them. The companies are owned by Kian and Alex Winter, but because they are minors I am their Guardian, but there is no trace of me when anyone looking into the company. I am simply an employee from the outside. My most trusted employees and my lawyers know of course how it is.

I turned my body slightly, putting one of my legs up on the bench, so that I could look at him better without having to break my neck. “No,” he answered, looking down at the book in his hands. “I’m from the Kingdom of Vinter.” “What’s it like there?” A smile bloomed on his lips as he dreamed himself back to his place of origin. “It’s incredibly beautiful,” he started, while his gaze was locked on the leatherbound book in his hands. “It’s cold, but not freezing,” he explained. “There’s snow all year long, but everything just looks so beautiful like that, frozen in time.” Everything about him screamed love and longing. “The King of Winter is old,” he raised his eyebrows slightly. “He’s the kin

Christmas was the reading of the book. This Christmas, Don's book was a novel—Norwegian, which was not a coincidence, a novel by the same writer whose essays were in the Norway reading programme. The novel was called The Dark Year, and it was about a man who spent a winter alone in a cabin in the far north of Norway, experiencing the full darkness for the first time. Don had been saving it since September, when he had finished the essays. He had placed it on the shelf above his desk, the designated holding place for the Christmas book, and had not opened it once.

Zara’s POV The first frost of the season dusts the forest floor, glittering like shattered diamonds under the pale morning sun. Winter has always been a time of quiet—of huddling close for warmth, of stories whispered by firelight. But this year, the cold feels different. It’s not just the chill in the air; it’s the weight of what we’ve survived, the ghosts of what we’ve lost.

No wonder he couldn’t keep a smart girl like her. “Well, we have people who make the money for us while we relax,” I replied, taking the remote while I switched on the TV. We were getting comfortable watching the movie when a sudden loud scream came from Winter. This got me startled, and before I could process what was going on, she had landed on my lap. She squirmed on my lap while I held her tightly. I didn’t say anything while she was on my lap, as she was clearly looking troubled. When she calmed down to look at me, we were barely inches apart.