Exes and Ho Ho Ho's

by Lacey Black

  Exes & Ho Ho Ho’s

  A Christmas Novella

  By Bestselling Author

  Lacey Black

  Copyright © 2017 Lacey Black

  Cover Design by Freya Barker

  Stock Photo: kaninstudio #81619524

  Stock Photo: mesquitafms #92704386

  Editing by Kara Hildebrand

  Proofreading by Joanne Thompson

  Formatting by Brenda Wright of Formatting Done Wright

  This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  All rights reserved.

  About Exes and Ho Ho Ho’s

  Brandon Frost has it made. Dream job. Nice car. Fancy house. Until one Black Friday, the defense attorney finds himself standing before a judge, while his future is decided by the one woman who knows how to bring him to his knees: Noel. His ex, and the assistant district attorney on his case.

  Noel Winters knew that facing her ex again, after five years, would be difficult. That’s why she chooses the ultimate punishment for a man like Brandon Frost: playing Santa at a local community center for kids. Unfortunately for Noel, she finds herself right smack dab in the middle of Brandon’s punishment, playing Mrs. Claus.

  Soon, the thin line between love and hate begins to blur. What happens when a once-dead relationship starts to rekindle? Will Mrs. Claus be able to trust her heart with the one man who has already destroyed it? Will Santa convince the Mrs. that love is worth fighting for?

  *This 25,000 word Novella was originally published in November 2017 as part of the Mrs. Claus anthology.

  Index

  Also by Lacey Black

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by Lacey Black

  Rivers Edge series

  Trust Me, Rivers Edge book 1 (Maddox and Avery) – FREE at all retailers

  ~ #1 Bestseller in Contemporary Romance & #3 in overall free e-books

  ~ #2 Bestseller in overall free e-books on another retailer

  Fight Me, Rivers Edge book 2 (Jake and Erin)

  Expect Me, Rivers Edge book 3 (Travis and Josselyn)

  Promise Me: A Novella, Rivers Edge book 3.5 (Jase and Holly)

  Protect Me, Rivers Edge book 4 (Nate and Lia)

  Boss Me, Rivers Edge book 5 (Will and Carmen)

  Trust Us: A Rivers Edge Christmas Novella (Maddox and Avery)

  ~ This novella was originally part of the Christmas Miracles Anthology

  BOX SET – contains all 5 novels, 2 novellas, and a BONUS short story

  Bound Together series

  Submerged, Bound Together book 1 (Blake and Carly)

  ~ An International Bestseller

  Profited, Bound Together book 2 (Reid and Dani)

  ~A Bestseller, reaching Top 100 on 2 e-retailers

  Entwined, Bound Together book 3 (Luke and Sidney)

  Summer Sisters series

  My Kinda Kisses, Summer Sisters book 1 (Jaime and Ryan)

  ~A Bestseller, reaching Top 100 on 2 e-retailers

  My Kinda Night, Summer Sisters book 2 (Payton and Dean)

  My Kinda Song, Summer Sisters book 3 (Abby and Levi)

  My Kinda Mess, Summer Sisters book 4 (Lexi and Linkin)

  My Kinda Player, Summer Sisters book 5 (AJ and Sawyer)

  My Kinda Forever, Summer Sisters book 6 (Meghan and Nick)

  My Kinda Wedding: A Summer Sisters Novella book 7

  Standalone

  Music Notes, a sexy contemporary romance standalone

  A Place To Call Home, a second chance novella

  Exes and Ho Ho Ho’s, a Christmas novella

  *Coming Soon from Lacey Black

  Book 1 in the Rockland Falls series, a new contemporary series

  Chapter One

  Black Friday from Hell

  Brandon

  I strum my manicured fingernails along the battered hardwood tabletop as I await the appearance of the honorable Judge Joseph Walker III. It’s a quarter past one, and this hearing was due to start fifteen minutes ago. The entire situation grates on my already frazzled nerves when it comes to the holiday season, where everyone is too damn cheery and there’s no escape from the forty-five different renditions of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” that’s piped into every elevator car or taxi this side of the Mississippi River.

  Checking my watch again, I exhale deeply, ready to get this entire day over with. What started out as a normal Friday has turned into a mess of epic proportions. How in the world did I go from working out in my home gym, before heading into the office, to being bullied by an eighty-year-old grandma and placed under arrest?

  You heard right.

  Arrested.

  As one of the youngest defense attorneys in Springfield, I’m accustomed to sitting in this exact position, at this exact table as a matter of fact, and staring up at the bench of one of the state capitol’s senior judges. But now? I’m stuck in a courtroom, watching paint peel on the wall, and wishing I were anywhere else but here.

  I should have stayed in bed. Hell, I should have taken the day off, like most white-collared Americans when it comes to Black Friday. You know, the self-proclaimed holiday where you break out in fist fights to score a five-dollar coffee maker or mow down other shoppers with your cart to nab that final toy your spoiled kid just has to have or will die…all in the name of the Christmas spirit.

  Black Friday. The black hole of holidays.

  And now, a day I’ll forever associate with being arrested.

  So here I sit, as the defendant, ready to plead my case as I represent myself on bogus and frivolous charges, and convince my golfing buddy to throw these accusations right out the proverbial window.

  Where the hell is Judge Walker?

  Glancing at my Rolex once more, I stare at the large wooden door that leads to Walker’s chambers and will him to come through the door. What could be keeping him? I just played eighteen holes with him yesterday, and he didn’t mention anything besides work on his calendar for the day.

  Walker and I have played golf on most holidays since I graduated law school at the University of Chicago Law School, and started working at his former law firm. His wife of thirty-five years passed away five years ago, and with his kids out adulting in the world, he’s left alone on most major holidays.

  Like me.

  My attention is pulled to the prosecution table, which also remains empty. I’m starting to wonder if I’m being punk’d. Get arrested, post bail, show up for court, and no one’s there, proving that the entire situation was one big fuck-you joke. Typical. The only thing that keeps me in my chair is the presence of the bailiff by the judge’s chamber door.

  I’m giving it five more minutes and then I’m out. Even with the arresting officer seated behind where the prosecution is supposed to sit, I’m not wasting any more of my time by waiting for a hearing that may or may not even happen. What’s the worst that could happen? Contempt of court, sure, but it
wouldn’t be my first offense. Warrant out for my arrest? Yeah, that would blow reindeer balls. Especially with Barney Fife Jr. ready to slap those damn cuffs back on my wrists one more time.

  Yeah, so let’s talk about Junior. Has he even graduated high school? The kid can’t even grow a mustache, let alone be old enough to graduate from the academy. He’s greener than the emerald tie around my neck. I barely got a word in edgewise before he was pushing me against the squad car and throwing the cold metal bracelets around my wrist.

  What did I do? Oh, that’s a great Black Friday story, full of holiday merriment.

  Before I can dive into the reason for my Friday afternoon courtroom appearance, the judge’s chambers finally opens. But it’s not my ol’ golfing buddy, Judge Walker, who steps into the courtroom. Oh no. This is Judge Amelia Holiday, the old battleax who clearly hasn’t forgiven me for the time she caught me sneaking out of her daughter’s apartment. No way has she forgotten that tidbit of information if the way she glares daggers at me from behind her black-framed glasses is any indication.

  Well, fuck me.

  Where in the flying hell is Walker? There’s no way I’m getting off on any charge with the old broad who’d rather see me strung up by my balls in front of the Capital Building.

  Could this day possibly get any worse?

  Just then, the courtroom door flies open. “I’m so sorry I’m late, your honor. The Women in the Judicial System luncheon ran over,” a woman says as she scurries to take her place at the prosecutor’s bench, the clickety clank of her heels echoing through the room.

  What can only be presumed as the new assistant District Attorney plops her worn leather satchel bag down on the table and quickly organizes papers in two nice, neat piles. Waves of springy blonde curls fall into her face as she arranges her paperwork and prepares to do battle against one of the top defense attorneys in the fine city of Springfield, Illinois.

  Me.

  Familiarity sweeps through my blood as her slender fingers grip that luscious hair, moving it out of her face and behind her shoulders. It falls forward again, like unruly ringlets of sunshine. Even in profile, I can tell she’s beautiful, and I’ll be damned if my dick doesn’t take notice. Her body is slim, fit, and looks amazing in the red business suit. The skirt conforms beautifully to her heart-shaped ass, and it takes everything I have to suppress the groan of lust, anxious to slip out. Even the gaudy Santa head pin on her lapel doesn’t dim the need I suddenly feel.

  “No problem, Miss Winters. It was a wonderful luncheon today. Didn’t you enjoy Congresswoman Jeffery’s speech on raising a family and still giving one hundred percent to the constituents?”

  “I did,” the blonde says, nodding her head fanatically. “When she talked about spending time with your family during the holidays, it really drove home her point about still remaining a family woman who serves the public.”

  Unable to hold back, I groan in annoyance. Unfortunately, Judge Battleax hears me and turns her narrow eagle eyes my way. I can practically feel her contempt for me all the way across the courtroom. “Ahh, yes, Mr. Frost. When Judge Walker called me and asked me to fill in for him this afternoon, I was a little reluctant to end my Black Friday, which included some shopping for deals and a powerful women’s luncheon. But once I arrived and saw your name on the docket? And as the defendant? Well, let’s just say that my day started to look up rather quickly,” Judge Holiday says with a bright smile beaming with mirth.

  Shit.

  “Miss Winters, are you ready to proceed?”

  “I am, Your Honor,” the blonde says before turning her blue eyes on me.

  Eyes that I’ve seen before. Eyes that I used to get lost in almost nightly in another lifetime. Eyes that, to this day, haunt my dreams. And right now, they’re laser-sharp and piercing me like tomahawks in battle.

  Noel Winters.

  “Well, double shit.”

  Chapter Two

  Blast From The Past

  Noel

  I knew that seeing him for the first time in five years was going to be difficult. Like that moment you sit down to take the Bar exam and everything you’ve learned in the last three years flies right out the window. Yet you have to power through the complete memory loss so that you don’t screw up your big chance to become the one thing you’ve always wanted to be.

  What I wasn’t prepared for was the crazy bolt of lust that swept through my body when our eyes met.

  Brandon Frost is still as gorgeous as I remember. Brown hair, hazel eyes that change to a fierce green when he’s aroused (trust me, I know), shoulders and abs that make a woman sit up and beg, and an ass that you could bounce a quarter off of.

  He’s exactly as I remember him.

  Dammit.

  Why couldn’t he have lost all of his hair? Perhaps an ugly comb-over toupee was too much to ask for? Maybe gain about forty pounds and have a potbelly hanging over his belt?

  But no, the years since we’ve parted have been good to Brandon, just like I suspected they would be. Even seated, he’s lean, tone, and dominating in his charcoal gray suit and striking green tie. I recall every bit of his six-foot-one body, as it towered over me while he kissed me silly in the snow until my lips were numb. His hands gripped my face and he held me tightly like he was afraid I would run away.

  Stupid memories.

  Anger is a powerful thing, and it’s time I grabbed a hold of the emotion that has carried me through the past half-decade when I think about Brandon. I’m here to do a job – a very new job, at that. Today is my first official solo case as assistant district attorney for Sangamon County, and I’m determined to do it well.

  And what would be better than taking down Brandon Frost?

  Nothing, that’s for sure.

  It would be the highlight of my life and my career.

  “Then, let’s proceed. Mr. Frost, you have decided to represent yourself today,” Judge Holiday says, glaring at Brandon over the top of her glasses. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Amelia doesn’t care for Brandon in the least.

  Interesting.

  “These charges are bogus, Ma’am. The defense calls to dismiss,” he says, that cocky smile I used to love ever present on his smug face.

  “Denied,” I state. There’s no way I’m dismissing charges on a man who assaulted a little old woman who was trying to cross the street with her Christmas purchases.

  “Listen, your honor, we could go round and round all afternoon. The facts are this: I was driving down the street and a woman walked in front of me. While in the street, she dropped a package, so I got out and helped her collect her belongings,” Brandon says.

  “You called her an old bat and insulted her Christmas sweater.”

  “That’s hearsay.”

  “Would you like me to call to the stand the woman who says you ran over her great-grandson’s Batman walkie talkie gift? She’s just a phone call away, you know,” I taunt him, reaching for my cell phone as if I were really going to call sweet Mrs. Horner.

  “It fell under my tire,” he retorts firmly.

  “Convenient for a man who hates Christmas,” I seethe, keeping my eyes locked on his. That’s how I don’t miss the direct hit my comment made. Brandon’s eyes widen and his nostrils flare before they squint into little slits.

  “I do not hate Christmas,” he states, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

  “You’re under oath, Brandon Frost.” Saying his name is like chewing on Christmas lights. It’s painful and cuts deep.

  Spinning to face the judge, he continues. “Listen, your honor. I was trying to help her out of the way. The woman stopped in the middle of the street and spilled her Christmas packages. I was merely trying to be a good citizen.”

  The judge starts laughing.

  “Sorry, sorry,” she says, waving her hand in front of her face to mask her laughter. “Good citizen. That’s not exactly a term I’d use to describe you,” she mumbles, sendin
g eye daggers his way.

  Adjusting my favorite Santa head pin on the lapel of my suit, I smile. Even the prospect of going head-to-head with Brandon Frost hasn’t dimmed the excitement I have for my favorite holiday, Christmas. Even after he devastated me five years ago, at said holiday, I was able to keep my feelings for him separate from the date on the calendar.

  Love Christmas.

  Hate Brandon.

  Even after seeing him in the flesh after five years, I still get giddy excited at the prospect of leaving work and putting up my Christmas tree. The only reason I didn’t do it last night was because I didn’t get home until after nine from my parents’ house. But now I have something to look forward to when I get off work.

  And can push all thoughts of Brandon Frost out of my mind.

  “Double parking, jaywalking, and assault of a little old woman and a peace officer,” I state for the record.

  “I did not assault that police officer,” he seethes through gritted teeth, turning to face the young officer who’s seated behind me.

  “You threw a package of tinsel at him and called him a hobbit, Scrooge,” I add.

  Brandon scoffs and shakes his head. “I tripped over the Barbie doll that was still in the road!”

  “Heaven forbid you pick it up and place it back in the shopping bag.” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “That’s what I was doing when the cop showed up and accused me of mugging her!” he hollers.

  The pounding of the gavel draws our attention back to the judge. “That’s enough,” she says, rubbing her temples as if to fend off a headache. “What does the state have in mind, Miss Winters?”

  “Simple, your honor. Community service,” I tell her. Internally, I smile when I see Brandon’s shoulders relax at my suggestion.

  “Community service? That’s it?” Judge Holiday asks, unable to hide her own shock.

  “Yes, ma’am. The state has the perfect punishment for a criminal like this,” I offer sweetly, knowing that this judge is practically eating out of the palm of my hand.