What Is The Plot Of Elmo'S Birthday Book?

On my 16th birthday, I treat myself to the most delicious cake I can find. On that day, before I can even take a bite, my parents, who are always at odds with each other, sign their divorce papers right in front of me. So, on my wedding day, I tell my wife, Keira Jarrett, "If you ever want a divorce, just get me a birthday cake." She hugs me tightly and promises me."Don't worry. 'Birthday' won't even be a word in our home anymore." Seven years later, on Keira's birthday, her assistant, Jackson Price, throws her a surprise party. She slaps him across his handsome, gentle face and kicks him out of Jarrett Group. That day, I am convinced I have chosen the right woman for life. But three months later, on my birthday, I find out the supposedly fired Jackson has been promoted to Keira's personal secretary. He personally delivers a custom-made birthday cake to me. I call Keira to demand an explanation, but her voice on the other end is cold and distant. "Jack meant well. Don't be a spoilsport." I freeze for a moment, then hang up. It turns out my parents are right all along. The only way a birthday cake tastes right is when it's served with divorce papers.

I was eight months pregnant when my water broke—the same day as the birthday of my husband’s adopted son. To keep my child from being born on the same day as his adopted son, he forced me to wait until after midnight. He refused to take me to the hospital and locked me in the basement. Adrian Shaw looked down at me. His eyes were dark and hostile. “Elena, you're really good at picking the timing, huh? Of all days, you had to go into labor on Evan’s birthday.” I begged him to take me to the hospital. A trace of disappointment flashed across his eyes, and his voice turned cold. “You’re still trying to lie to me? I asked a doctor. Even if your water breaks, you don’t give birth right away. Some women don’t deliver for three days. “All this scheming is just to secure your position as Mrs. Shaw, so your child can compete with Evan for his birthday and his place. You've really thought this through.” I took a deep breath as despair washed over me. “The baby I’m carrying is yours too! Adrian, I’m begging you. Please, for the child’s sake, save her. As long as the baby is safe, I promise I’ll never show up in front of you again.” His expression darkened. He bent down, grabbed my chin, and replied harshly, “Don’t play games with me. “As long as you stay here quietly until after midnight, I’ll take you to the hospital. Once the baby’s born, you can finally use the child to secure your place and truly marry into the Shaw family.” Later, when my contractions grew unbearable and I cried out in pain, he found me too noisy and took Evan and his mother out to celebrate instead. By the time he remembered me and asked whether I had a boy or a girl, his secretary’s face paled. “Mrs. Shaw is… gone.”

Everyone deserves a second chance at happiness... even a killer. Serendipity Fizzlestitch wants nothing more than to be left alone. In a small cabin a stone's throw from the house where her sisters and mother breathed their last, Serendipity toils away, making the dolls her late father was working on when he disappeared beneath the ocean waves. Serendipity is content to spend the rest of her existence here, trying to atone for the mistakes of her past by creating the dolls that bring joy to so many others. When a mysterious letter arrives in her fireplace, an unusual stranger shows up at her door, and her favorite mouse friend goes missing, Serendipity is forced to face the outside world--and the ghosts from her past. Will she accept the opportunity to join the most famous toymaker of all time, or will her guilt prevent her from finding the happiness everyone deserves? The Doll Maker's Daughter at Christmas is a whimsical romantic fantasy that proves everyone deserves a second chance, no matter how horrific our past. Perfect for Christmas, or any time of year, The Doll Maker's Daughter at Christmas will bring back the magic we can only find when we truly believe.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love sent me, heartbreak on a platter of gold. How thoughtful. Melody Hart once believed December carried its own charm, everything feels beautiful and magical, and she would be having a Christmas wedding, something she’d dreamed of since childhood. But magic turned to ash the moment she walked in on the man she loved, unwrapping someone else like a gift. Determined to start over, she runs to New York City with nothing but a bruised heart and an almost empty bank account . She isn’t searching for miracles anymore. She just wants a job, a bed that’s not a borrowed couch, and one peaceful night where she doesn’t cry herself to sleep. Just like she had her problems, Logan Russo had his. He needs a woman for Christmas, someone who would be able to act in front of his whole family, just to get them off his neck. Melody needs two hundred thousand dollars. Neither of them needs love. The universe brought them together, two desperate strangers who needed each other. What started off as a confrontation at the airport, soon blossomed into something beautiful. She got her Christmas miracle after all. All that was short-lived because the universe had other plans. But this time, how much can she take, how willing is she to protect what she's built? Only time will tell.

On my birthday, the dining table was loaded with all my favorites. My mom had been cooking and baking the entire afternoon, insisting everything be perfect for when Mike got home from work so we could celebrate together. But then, he called and said his first love had been drugged at a bar, and he had to go help her. I stopped him and begged him not to go. Mike snapped at me. "Jesus, Em, don’t pull this jealous wife crap. She’s alone, defenseless, and unconscious—I can't let some random dude take advantage of her!" My mother heard those words and was so enraged that she had a heart attack. She died on the spot. Just like that, my mom died on my birthday. I called Mike, asking him to attend my mom's funeral. But before he could reply, I saw Cathy Miller's latest Instagram post, captioned: [Mikey… after all these years, it was always you.] Mike had liked it. My thumb moved before my brain caught up, typing out the only words that mattered: [A homewrecker and a lying bastard. Hope you rot together.]

As my murderer's claws tear into my abdomen inch by inch, my father and brother are seated in our family's banquet hall. They're celebrating Carly's 18th birthday and coming-of-age. "You'll always be my little girl." "Happy birthday, Carly." They light 18 pink candles for her. On top of the exquisite red velvet cake is a wolf figurine that they carved for her, and there are well wishes and laughter all around. Meanwhile, I'm curled up in a sewer filled with liquid silver as I bleed to death. My phone has been crushed, and I can't get out. I can only cry for help. A few days later, my father and brother show up together at the autopsy room. My brother stands by the operating table with a scalpel. He slices open the body and sews it back up like it's nothing. My father just covers his nose as he shoots a disgusted glance at my body. He urges my brother to hurry up with the autopsy report. "The victim is a young female wolf presumed to be of pure lineage. Before her death, she was subjected to prolonged captivity and torture. Her throat is nearly severed, her cervical spine is dislocated, and her chest cavity has collapsed. She was also injected with liquid silver before death." Hearing the report, my father looks so calm that it's just like a case study of no consequence. Neither of them can recognize that the body belongs to me—their daughter and sister!