The Basics

Kiss, Marry, Contain is a holiday-themed GL novella in 14 parts.

Basically, it’s a digital advent calendar! (But like, for Valentine’s day instead of Christmas.)

After you subscribe to the newsletter, you’ll receive one or two chapters a day in your email inbox starting February 1st, 2026 and running until February 14th, 2026. It’s technically more than 14 chapters but it’ll still roll out in 14 days, just with a few interludes sprinkled in! ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

It’s free, though you can send me a ko-fi if you happen to enjoy the story~

You might be wondering, ‘so what kind of story am I signing up to read, then?’

Genre: Comedy, GL (girl’s love)🌈

Rating: Mature (18+)

Tags: Comedy, fantasy, tough-as-nails love interest, cunty protagonist, HEA

Disclaimer: Note that subscribing to this email newsletter means you confirm that you are over the age of 18 and consent to being emailed explicit NSFW material. TWs include (highlight to view): attempted SA by an antagonist and dubcon (aphrodisiac) between main couple.

Synopsis

It’s February 14th, Valentine’s Day—ie. the day before Lain Werther’s 30th birthday—and everything is as it should be. Lain is an executive assistant working for the VP of Operations of P— City’s biggest manufacturing plant, her car is fully paid off, and she’s on track to max out her 401k contributions by the end of the year. Only one thing is missing in her picture perfect life. A Valentine’s date!

Lain: “I invite you to get the facts straight before continuing. I’m happily single. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a meeting to attend—”

But in a world of quick hookups and callous one-night-stands, what’s a touch-starved girl desperate for love to do? Especially when said touch-starved girl’s biological clock is ticking—if we’re to believe her smokin’ hot mom, anyway.

Lain, spitting out her coffee: “Don’t talk about my mother that way. Who are you? And how did you get access to Building A’s loudspeaker?”

After a brush with death, Lain resolves to prioritize her love life and find her fated mate. It’s just her luck when R., the straight-laced bodyguard her boss hires her, sweeps her off her feet. Literally! There’s a princess carry in this story, you guys! Readitreaditreadireadit~~

Lain: For the love of God, at least tell me my deadbeat dad isn’t a side character in this story…

(He is.)

💕💐💝

Below is an excerpt of the chapter you’ll be receiving on Day One (February 1st)!

Chapter 1 - Single and ready to stay that way

February 14th. The evergreens were encased in white. Slush caked the streets. All through December and January, P— City hadn’t seen a lick of snow, and certainly the forecast hadn’t predicted this. What did it mean, then, that on a day dedicated to sweethearts and smooches, people awoke to a serendipitous dump of winter whimsy? 

Nothing, of course. Holidays—this holiday in particular—were meaningless.

In a single bedroom condo, a lump of blankets stirred in bed.

“GOOD MORNING, P— CITY! (SFX of doves cooing) It’s that time of year when twitterpation is in the air. SPWAM Radio wishes all you singlefolk and coupled crazies a happy (SFX of sloppy kissing) happy Valen—”

A hand flew out of the lump of blankets, dealing the radio a silencing, crushing blow.

.˚✧♥♡⁀➴♡♥✧˚.

The blankets, after being promptly pulled aside, were folded neatly over the mattress, the single deflated pillow straightened out like a sheet of 8½ x 11” paper. Clipped footsteps entered the bathroom, then came out ten minutes later in a cloud of steam, squeaky clean and no less purposeful. 

Followed by the sound of the hair dryer turning off, the phone rang, right on time. 

“Lain, sweetie. Happy birthday!” came her mother’s voice, almost drowned out by the sound of the twenty-plus peeping and honking finches she owned. “Feel any different?” 

“Not really,” Lain said.

She squinted at herself in the bathroom mirror, leaned in, and plucked a wiry, white hair out from her curtain of bangs.

In fact, her birthday was not today, but tomorrow—February 15th, ie. Single’s Awareness Day, ie. the perfect excuse to buy discounted chocolate if she weren’t averse to sweets. She’d long since given up correcting her mother, who was as birdbrained as the darling pets she doted on.

Lain glided into the kitchen. She regarded the to-do list on the countertop with a nod, then opened the fridge. 

On the other line, there came the sound of birdseed being poured out of a bag. The peeping and honking tripled in volume.

“Thirty is a big age! Oh, my baby is (sniff) all grown up. I remember when you were just this big. You used to call teething rings ‘cold ones.’ God, you had so much gas—”

“Thirty’s no different from any other age,” Lain interrupted in between bites of overnight oats. “Maturity is relative. Anyway, it’s not as if turning thirty grants one magical powers.”

Though if that were the case, she would happily settle for the magical power of being able to get by on three hours of sleep. Seven hours was such a time sink. 

She threw on a blazer, smoothed down her skirt, and exited her condo.

While waiting for the elevator, she put an earbud in and began to field emails, letting the chatterboxing in her ear continue:

“Oh, you’d be surprised. I was thirty when I had you, honey. Granted the magic of motherhood! Come to think of it, when am I going to get grandbabies, Lain? You know after your father left, I’ve been lonely, so lonely…”

Her mother produced a withered croak. Lain side-eyed her across the globe.

There was no need to force a subject change this time. Lain caught the faint sound of a doorbell ringing. Her mother breathed an excited “oh!” while, simultaneously, the finches went dead silent.

“That’ll be Carissa and Peony. The Scrabble girls, you remember. We’re having a picnic at the lake this afternoon. After that it’ll be dancing at Westmin, and then tonight I’m getting dinner with that hunk who fixed my sink last month. Have a lovely birthday, hun. Hugs and kisses. Buh-bye!”

Lonely, my foot.

By this point, Lain was in traffic, on track to be twenty minutes early to work. At a red light, she held her nose and dispensed a “mwa” at her phone. The last time she neglected to do it, her mother had texted her a frowny face after they hung up. This time, she received a red rose and—indeed, she didn’t need to count them—thirty red hearts. 

Lain texted back a thumbs up.

Like mother, like daughter? Hmph. The two of them couldn’t be more different.

Of course, she didn’t love her any less for that. But—Lain grimaced—loving one’s mother, who had suffered through a cesarean section to bring her into the world, and loving a rando were also different matters. 

Grandbabies? She had told her mother on more than one occasion that the risk—ahem, likelihood of such a thing ever happening was in the negatives. 

Having never been in a relationship and seeing no reason to enter one any time soon, as well as being perfectly adjusted to her antidepressant-induced non-existent libido and, furthermore, dedicated to her career, Lain Werther was terminally, happily single. 

It would take something impossible—say, getting shot by a cupid’s arrow—to change that. 

Want to find out what happens next?

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(And please do read the disclaimer before subscribing)

Art credit: banner chibis by reidiantdawn, chocolate box illustration by ohree, otome art by nembluryou, string chibi by cilliayori