Jingle Balls
By Crymsyn Hart
()
About this ebook
After ten years, Lacey Mathers is called home to attend her mother's funeral. She discovers, her mother wasn't who she thought she was. On top of that, the handsome lawyer handling the will is so lickable she can't help but drool over him. Although her attraction to him boils her blood, something else about Dominik stirs the primal side of her.
Dominik Napier can't keep his eyes off his gorgeous new client. Every fiber of his being craves her, but can she accept his animal nature?
Christmas lights are twinkling and carols are jingling, but Lacey can't stop daydreaming about him in nothing more than a red thong and a Santa hat. Will the secrets she discovers tear them apart or bring them closer together? Can Lacey accept him being furry? Or will they both end up with coal in their stockings?
Crymsyn Hart
Crymsyn Hart is a bestselling author of Erotic Romance. Her worlds are filled with luscious vampires, gorgeous gods, quirky witches, and everything else that goes bump in the night. Hell, there is even a delicious cheesecake god floating around, but if I were you I wouldn’t eat his brownie cheesecake. Crymsyn worked as a psychic for many years in Boston while attending Emerson College. She graduated with a BFA in Writing, Literature, & Publishing. When she gets bored, she sneaks away to local cemeteries and coffee shops to find peace and quiet. Granted, graveyards might be a great place for the dead, but she still has to listen to their chattering. It can get annoying when all you want to do is write, but she can tell you quite a ghost story. Crymsyn shares her life with a small zoo, two playful puppies and her hubby Mark. If you come after dark, you’re more than likely to find her snuggled up with a gory horror movie, or a bloody vampire movie. Crymsyn has a collection of Living Dead Dolls and five bookshelves overflowing with books. Of course there's always room for more.
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Jingle Balls - Crymsyn Hart
Jingle Balls
Crymsyn Hart
Published by Purple Sword Publications, LLC at Smashwords
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
JINGLE BALLS
Copyright © 2011 CRYMSYN HART
ISBN 978-1-61292-025-2
Cover Art Designed By Anastasia Rabiyah
Photograph Copyright Francesco Cura, Dreamstime.com
Chapter One
Jingle balls. Jingle balls. Swinging all the way. Oh what fun it is to squeeze…
Susie. Seriously. Will you quit with that ridiculous song? You always sing it when we’re making meatballs.
Lacey rolled her eyes at her friend and chef.
Susan shrugged. Her blonde hair was caught up in a bun and held together with a pencil. When I make meatballs it reminds me of Christmas. Every year for the holidays, my family would get together a couple nights before Christmas Eve and there’d be fifteen of us making meatballs. My grandma would start a round of carols and then we’d change up the words. By the end of the night, we’d all be in giggles and we’d have dozens of meatballs ready for cooking. Where do you think I got all my great recipes?
Lacey bobbed her head in agreement and sighed. She had been friends with Susie for ten years and had met her family. They were rambunctious. When it came to the holidays, the many kids racing about and all the conversations swirling around, it left her head spinning. The welcoming Susan’s family always gave her left her with a warm feeling.
Growing up she had never known what a happy family was. Her mother never spoke about her father. She couldn’t remember a good holiday they had ever celebrated. Once Lacey reached eighteen, she had left home and never looked back. She’d met Susan her freshman year of college while she was waiting tables. Five years later, they had opened a restaurant together. She ran the front of the house and Susie cooked. At the moment, she was elbows deep into ground meat and was helping her friend roll meatballs.
Yeah. Yeah. The recipes are wonderful. That’s why you get all the rave reviews. Now cook me some lunch, bitch!
A perfectly rounded meatball flew by her head. Hey! Watch where you’re slinging that meat. We need those balls for dinner.
Lobbing balls is my pastime. The farthest I’ve gotten is halfway into the dining room.
Susie flashed her a large grin. I’ll make sure to get right on your lunch, boss lady.
She threw her friend a dirty look, and then glanced back at the pan of mixed meat she had before her. There was at least another hour of rolling balls because the sous chef hadn’t shown up. That put a kink in Susan’s day of prepping, but Lacey had stepped in and started helping her with the promise of free lunch. Her stomach growled again at the thought of her friend’s cooking.
Hey Lace, there’s someone here for you.
Peter stuck his head between the kitchen doors.
You expecting anyone?
Susie asked.
Yeah. The man of my dreams in a red thong and a Santa hat. No. It’s probably some salesman trying to unload the latest whisk or baking pan that’s come on the market. You’re going to have to take over with the rest of these balls since you love to handle them so much.
What about your lunch?
You’d better be making that too, bitch.
Lacey stuck her tongue out at her friend and began the messy job of pulling the gloves from her hands. After throwing the gloves away and scrubbing her hands for good measure, she was ready to deal with the person waiting for her. In the dining room, Peter, the host, was wiping down the bar. He motioned his head toward the lobby area. Glancing at the menu, a man was dressed in a long, tan trenchcoat. She caught a glimpse of designer suit pants. A black umbrella rested on his left leg. Water droplets had slid down the canvas and pooled onto the tile.
The man turned and the umbrella clattered to the ground. He cleared his throat and smoothed his coat, picking up the umbrella and resting it against the wall. Lacey Mathers?
Yes. Can I help you with something?
He reached into his jacket pocket and handed her an envelope. This is for you.
Lacey opened the letter and read it over quickly. She met his gaze and couldn’t help but laugh. This is a joke, right?
No, ma’am. Your mother has passed away and has left everything to you.
She barely had any money when she was raising me.
I’m sorry. I don’t know the details. The will states that you need to come back to the house, claim your belongings, and sign the necessary paperwork.
The man shrugged and handed her a business card. Call me if you have any questions.
He took the umbrella, left the restaurant, and didn’t look back.
Lace, you okay?
Susan asked.
Lacey glanced over the letter again, trying to register the news. I just found out my mother died.
Tears stung her eyes and she was surprised by the sorrow squeezing her heart.
Her friend drew her into a hug and embraced her. The strong arms felt good, and she trusted Susie with her life. I’m so sorry, sweetie. Are you going to be all right? What did that man want?
She guided Lacey over to one of the chairs in the lounge.
She wiped the tears from her eyes and then looked at her friend. She held out