BRAD COULDN'T contain his joy when he read the headline splashed across the front page of the local newspaper. "Well-known Director of Pixel Studios Arrested for Fraud," the headline proclaimed, and beneath it, a photo of Daniel Vincent being escorted into a police station. He'd never forget the look of shock and horror on Daniel's face when he'd been led away in handcuffs. It was glorious. Brad had paid a small fortune to have this story run in every major newspaper and news website, and it was worth every penny. However, he hadn't seen Daniel around Doris for a while even before his arrest. He couldn't help but wonder if something had happened between them. Had they fought? Or had Doris figured out he was a sleazebag even before his crimes were exposed? He didn't know the answer, but he was glad that he wouldn't have to see Daniel's face again, regardless of the reason. It was a small victory, but it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. However

HE KISSED her again, deeply, urgently, his arms holding her tight. As his tongue perforated past her parted lips, probing demanding, one hand slipped inside her nightdress to touch her bare flesh. Her head fell back in a gesture of abandonment, and she yielded herself up to him completely, without reservation. Warmth began to spread through her, a slow burn that made her fingers tingle and toes curl. She could feel the heat travel down her spine, to the tips of her fingers and toes. And without another thought, Doris leaned forward, her fingers eager to touch, to explore the expanse of skin stretched out before her. It was like a spark had been lit within her, and she couldn't help but let it burn. The heat intensified, becoming almost unbearable, a weightless feeling that left her floating somewhere between reality and a dream. As her hands wandered, her senses heightened. Every inch of skin felt like it was on fire, every breath drawn in was suffused with a heady scent that

BEFORE DORIS knew it, November was over. She felt as if all she'd done was blink and the month had disappeared. Looking back, she believed that despite her occasional qualms about her relationship with Brad and where it would ultimately end, November was probably the happiest month she'd ever had. Doris sent up a silent prayer, hoping that the warmth and joy of November would continue into December and beyond. She knew that life was filled with ups and downs, and she couldn't expect everything to be perfect, but she held onto a small spark of hope. Perhaps, she thought, if she could keep her focus on the good things, the bad things wouldn't seem so overwhelming. With that in mind, Doris picked up the heavy platter of whole-grain pancakes shaped in perfect triangles, balancing it carefully in her hands as she followed Mrs. Hopkins into the dining room. The elderly housekeeper carried a platter of eggs and fresh fruit, her face beaming with pride. Doris set the pancakes d

DORIS COULDN'T BELIEVE IT! The holidays had crept up on her before she knew it and now it was Christmas Eve. She was sitting in the car with her son, on their way to the Evans mansion to dine with her father and his new girlfriend. Her father had called her a couple of days before, being all dramatic, telling her that she had "forgotten" about her "poor old man" now that she was in love. She had brushed him off immediately. But he'd been persistent, insisting that she had a meal with him and his girlfriend, saying they had something important to tell her. Doris wasn't sure what it could be, but she had a feeling that was going either a marriage announcement or something else that would be pure drama. She could only hope that whatever it was, it wouldn't cause too much of a scene on Christmas Eve. As they pulled up to the large, stone mansion, Doris noticed that it was decorated for the holidays, with twinkling lights and wreaths adorning the windows. The driveway was

IT WAS FINALLY CHRISTMAS! And Jason Lyndon's "Legendary" Christmas Party was already in full swing. The ballroom of the Avalon Grand Hotel glittered and sparkled, a vision of opulence and extravagance. Chandeliers dripped with crystals, reflecting the light from hundreds of flickering candles. The floor was polished marble, and the walls were draped in rich fabrics. But it was the people who really made the room sparkle. Hollywood stars, tech billionaires, politicians, and fashion icons, all dressed to the nines, chatted and mingled, their laughter filling the air. The band played a jazzy holiday tune, and champagne flutes clinked in celebration. The room was alive with the magic of the season, but underneath it all was a feeling of desperation, a sense of needing to be seen and to be a part of the spectacle. The buffet table was a wonder to behold. An ice sculpture of a Christmas tree sparkled in the center, and around it were a multitude of delectable dishes.