Wish Merry Christmas

As Christmas drew near, my little sister claimed she’d seen Santa Claus in the house. “He had four legs, real long, like dead branches. He crawled on the floor like a dog. His mouth was full of teeth, and I saw him with my own eyes, climbing out of the chimney. His bones were making this clicking, clacking sound.” The Santa she described was nothing like the legends. My parents and I thought it was just her imagination. Until I posted about it online. A user named “NocturneNotes” insisted my sister wasn’t lying, and that the thing was dangerous. Panicked, I asked him what we should do. He gave me three rules: “On Christmas Eve, from 11:30 PM to 2:00 AM, the entire family must ‘sleep’ by the Christmas tree.” “You can’t actually fall asleep, or you’ll die in your sleep.” “No matter what you hear or feel, you absolutely cannot open your eyes or stop pretending to be asleep. Once it hits 2:00 AM, it will leave on its own.”

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.

I was six months pregnant when my husband's childhood sweetheart showed up on Christmas Eve, pregnant too, demanding her place in his life. Smiling, I welcomed her in. "Come on in. Make yourself at home." In my previous life, I had forced my husband to kick Shirley out. She collapsed from low blood sugar and froze to death that very Christmas Eve. Matthew did not hold it against me. On the contrary, he softened, stayed by my side and took care of me while I waited to give birth. However, when the baby came, despite being an obstetrician himself, Matthew sent our healthy newborn son straight to the morgue. I begged him desperately, but his face was twisted with hatred. "If you hadn't been so petty and dramatic, Shirley wouldn't have died along with her baby!" "You're heartbroken over your son? Then go freeze to death too. Pay for Shirley’s life with your own life." Just like that, I opened my eyes again, back to the moment Shirley arrived on Christmas Eve.

He was supposed to be her fake fiancé for one snowy Christmas week. He turned out to be the billionaire judge who could make or break her dreams. Desperate to save her failing small town bakery, Elodie Voss enters the Hart Holiday Bake-off, a nationally televised competition with a $500,000 grand prize. There’s only one problem, it’s time for her family’s yearly Christmas retreat and they are determined to find someone for her to marry. Solution? Hire her grumpy, very hot neighbour Cassian Hart as a pretend fiancé to keep them off her back. Cassian agrees instantly, anything to escape his own family’s matchmaking. What Elodie doesn’t know, Cassian isn't just rich. He’s the reserved heir to the Hart Estate of Cuisines empire-the secret major sponsor and final judge of the very contest she’s competing to win. When Elodie's vicious step-sister uncovers the truth and threatens to expose them on live television, one fake relationship becomes terrifyingly real. This Christmas the sweetest prize isn’t the trophy. It's deciding whether to trust the man who could ruin her…or the heart he’s determined to win.

We were stuck on the highway in the middle of the Christmas travel rush. My husband’s childhood friend had not only taken the passenger seat from me, but she had also propped her bare feet up on the center console. “Don’t take it to heart, Yvonne. I’m just a casual person and like to be my true self, unlike you and your fake propriety,” Michelle Gail said. As she spoke, she snatched my phone right out of my hand and read a holiday greeting from a male colleague aloud. “Oh, you have quite a few backup options, don’t you? I bet you cheated on Charles a long time ago.” My husband, Charles Carter, however, only defended her. He said, “She’s just being casual. Don’t be so petty as to hold it against her.” I smiled. They did not know that I had accidentally been bound with a system before. As the system had bound the wrong person, it promised to fulfill one wish for me unconditionally as compensation. Without a moment of hesitation, I swapped the system for the “Forget Common Sense System” and bound it to Michelle. Since she was so “casual,” why would she need a sense of shame? Why would she even need to wear clothes? Since the highway was so congested, she might as well go for a wild run on the road!

The story of a budding romance in the '80s through the eyes of precocious but clueless16-year old Nia. She's a petite, fair, fiercely loyal,and talented high schooler. Overshadowed by a popular sister, she finds joy in her merry circle of friends. As the New Girl in school, she's often misunderstood and finds herself in trouble because of her flirtatious friend. Cute and popular best bud Lance would always come to her rescue. Take a trip down memory lane as we see her grow up in the 80s, going through life's ups and downs, fun exploits, bittersweet love, betrayal, growing up, and moving on...Will she finally meet the one destined for her? Or was he the one who got away?

I wish, everything was true. I wish everything really happened. I wish, that important thing wasn't stolen. Becareful with whom you trust for anyone can make you feel LIFELESS.

REINA Five thousand dollars to babysit Alan King's adorable, grieving son for Christmas break. The moment I perch on his lap to sign the contract, I know this would be much more than a simple nanny job. Nannies don't wear cuffs or collars, and they definitely don't choke on their boss's c**k. Right? ALAN She's bright, loud, annoyingly delicate-and eighteen years younger. Yet, all I can think of is how to break her in the filthiest ways possible. She doesn't belong in my world, but she's brave enough to step in. Reina Summers is completely mine this Christmas, and I plan to unwrap every inch of her until she learns exactly who she belongs to. WARNING: THIS IS A DARK EROTIC ROMANCE. SCORCHING HEAT WITHIN. HIGHLY ADDICTIVE.

When my husband and I drop by his childhood home for Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law, Melissa Potter, is the only one busying away in the kitchen. Everyone else is on their phones. I've just taken a seat when Melissa begins to lecture me. "What, are you just going to sit your ass down and wait for food to come? Don't you know when to lend a helping hand? Am I supposed to exhaust myself for your sake?" From time to time, she keeps rattling the pots and pans loudly. "I can't believe those with healthy bodies want a 70-year-old like me to serve them! Does anyone here have any conscience?" Feeling a little uneasy, I gave my husband a tiny nudge. "Why don't you help Mom out?" After Melissa hears my suggestion, she gets even more pissed off. Thinking that this is my first Christmas with my in-laws, I don't really want to cause a scene here, so I get up to my feet and help her out. But the moment I enter the kitchen, Melissa delegates all the tasks to me. I endure my fury as much as I can while finishing the Christmas dinner preparations. When I'm about to head back to the dining table and dig in, Melissa suddenly speaks up. "Hold up. We got scores to settle before dinner."

A doomsday blizzard hit just before Christmas. The zombie virus exploded. Our fortress was a top-tier ski resort. Now, it was about to fall. My husband, Ethan, was a former Navy SEAL. Our head of security. He swore his defense system was foolproof. The blizzard knocked out the power. But he’d sent all the backup generator fuel to the summit. Just to light up a Christmas tree for Chloe. He even had a few guards up there with them, throwing a party. In my last life, I fought him. I herded everyone into the last bunker. But Chloe whined. A crowded Christmas was boring, she said. She stormed out of the safe room and ran right into the jaws of the horde. Ethan carved a path through the horde to secure the walls. Then he sat in silence, cradling Chloe’s bones. He pretended he wanted to start over with me. He let me get pregnant with his child. The day I gave birth, he knocked me unconscious and dumped me into a nearby zombie nest. He always rescued me just before I died. He’d inject me with a serum that kept me from turning. Nineteen times, he threw me to the zombies. I died in agony as they tore the flesh from my bones. "If you hadn't sabotaged my defenses," he’d hissed, "if you hadn't crashed our party and led the horde right to us, Chloe would still be alive!" I opened my eyes. I was back. Christmas Eve.