Marry Ex-Mas

She’s a Christmas grump. He’s the one who got away. Can they survive the merriest cruise?
All aboard the Christmas Star of the Seas—where wishes come true… even the ones you swore you’d never make again.


Roxanne doesn’t do Christmas. Not the carols, not the cookies, and definitely not the “magic of the season.” But when her sister announces a Christmas Eve wedding aboard a holiday cruise so festive it makes Santa’s Village look subtle, Roxanne can’t say no.

Her plan: survive ten days as maid of honor without losing her mind. 

Her problem: the best man is her ex, the one who got away, or rather, the one she pushed away.

Between one-bed mix-ups, rival bridesmaids, and a meddling cruise director, avoiding her ex isn’t exactly an option. Roxanne and Broderick are forced into close quarters and a series of festive mishaps that would test the jolliest elf’s Christmas spirit.

Maybe the holidays—and exes—deserve a second chance. But as the ship sails toward the big day, will old sparks ignite this year's yule log, or will it all turn to ash?

If you love swoony, heartwarming romantic comedies about second chances, the holiday spirit, and finding love where you'd least expect it—grab Marry EX-MAS now!

The ship dwarfs the surrounding buildings on the dock. It also makes me feel insignificant, like this wedding. I shift the garment bag over my arm and crane my neck to read the name of this vessel—a habit I acquired on my many voyages on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. The S.S. Christmas Star of the Seas is written on the side of the ship, complete with holiday wreaths around the portholes. I roll my eyes. Of course it is. My sister wouldn't have chosen any other venue for her wedding. 
Most people select a reception space for the views, the abundant seating, or proximity to the church. Not my Christmas-obsessed sister. She chose this one because it is a floating Winter Wonderland. Which is cute if you are a kid, but she is twenty-six years away from being eight years old. I don’t get the obsession. 
It’s ironic that we are related. She is sugar, spice, and everything nice, while I am more the sassy, classy, badass variety of woman. She loves cozy Christmas, and I live for the summer sun. That might be a bit laughable since I live in Seattle, but we have a beautiful summer season. Contrary to popular belief, it does not rain all year. I kayak in Puget Sound, hike, and bike almost every day after work, June through August. It’s heaven. Unlike winter, when the miserable weather sets in. Is anyone ever dreaming of a wet Christmas? Because that’s what we get. I swear, Ellery’s obsession with the holiday started the one year she was seven and I was four. It snowed on Christmas Eve. We woke up to a white winter wonderland Christmas morning, and she has been obsessed with the holiday ever since. 
No one holiday rules my heart. I’m not a complete grump, I like Christmas, really, but I don’t get the obsession. I swear, the moment Ellery heard about this cruise, she decided it would be her wedding venue, never mind that she wasn’t even engaged at the time. She’s been planning this wedding for as long as I can remember. Not that it’s an original idea, I realize, noticing the line of women holding garment bags matching mine queued up to check in. Although they could be her bridesmaids, she has eight of them, not counting me. 
As I reach the deck, a group of carolers appears and starts belting out “Ding Dong Merrily on High”. Will this be happening the whole trip, I wonder. As I turn away from the carolers, a familiar face appears and shoves a warm red drink in my hand. 
“Aubrie, thank goodness you’re here,” I gush before taking a long sip. “Yuck, what is this?”
“A glass of welcome Glühwein,” she replies, stopping to blow her nose.
“Gross.” I deposit it on a nearby banister. “It tastes like hot spiced red wine.”
“That’s what it is. Get into the spirit,” she sings merrily. “Where is your room?”
I shrug. She takes a smart band out of the welcome package and fastens it around my wrist. Then she pairs the smart band to my phone and peruses the map that pops up on the screen. 
“I thought having you here would be helpful, not annoying.” I glare at the candy cane-striped device on my wrist. “I’m not wearing this.”
“Don’t even think about taking it off. You’ll need the ELF Link to get into your room, access all your sister’s events, and buy me a drink at Frosty's Bar in thirty,” she says. “See, I am being helpful,” she adds, guiding me inside the ship's grand entrance. 
I stop short of the door. The overwhelming scent of pine and cinnamon is wafting from inside. I catch glimpses of twinkly lights, evergreen boughs, and candy canes. 
“Aubrie, I can’t do this.” I grasp the doorway, but she grips my arm and propels me inside. It’s worse than I imagined. Every surface is covered, and I mean covered, with Christmas decorations. I groan. 
“You are doing this for Ellery.”
“My perky, perfect, Christmas-loving older sister. Right.”
“Don’t be bitter, just because she’s always gotten everything she wants.” Aubrie winks. 
We descend two floors to my deck. The scent of gingerbread hits me full force as the elevator doors slide open. 
“Let me guess, I’m on the gingerbread level?” 
“You got it, babe.” 
If the smell wasn’t enough of a clue, the massive gingerbread house opposite the elevator is. Aubrie glances at my phone and takes a left down the hallway. The gingerbread theme continues with small gingerbread people strung together on a garland accented with candy canes and gumdrops.
“I’m one floor down on the sugarplum level with no windows. A second-tier family member.”
“Stop it. You are in no way second-tier. I tried to get you in my room when Steven wasn’t coming, but you know—” The door swings open. “Granny,” I exclaim. 
She gives me a disappointed once-over. “I thought it was room service with my martini. Come on in, kid.” 
Aubrie peeks her head inside before shoving my welcome packet at me. “See you at Frosty’s Bar in thirty.”
At least the gingerbread aroma is dissipating. I plaster a smile on my face and turn around. This is the smallest room I have ever seen in my life. I set my things on a slim sofa near the door, so they are out of the way. I didn’t realize cruise cabins were so cramped. Unfortunately, the holiday decor did not stop at the threshold. The television has a video of a holiday fireplace merrily flickering on the screen. A wreath made entirely of gold and silver holiday ornaments encircles the porthole just above the red, green, and white plaid bedding. Wait.
“Where’s the other bed?” I exclaim, walking further into the room, as I realize, with horror, that it does not extend any further. 
“This is it,” Granny says, patting the double bed. She sits down with a sigh, pulling a fluffy white faux fur throw over her legs. “Your father went really cheap on this one.” 
I look around, wide-eyed, my breath coming shallow and fast. It’s not like that’s even a queen-size. I can’t share a double bed with my grandma. 
“Where am I supposed to sleep?” I look around, panicked. There isn’t even enough room on the floor for a cot.
“Precisely what I asked the porter. He said they will make up the sofa for you.”
I turn to stare at the narrow, hard-looking rectangle of foam opposite the television and vanity. It must pull out, I think, rushing over to the furniture piece in question. I sweep my things off the top and pull the matching red, green, and white plaid cushions away from the wall, groping the side of the couch for a lever or switch. 
Granny chuckles. “That is the whole shebang, kid. If you were looking forward to getting off this floating funhouse, take one last look at land, because we only make port once, on the twenty-fourth. Something about the boat being the experience.” She rolls her eyes heavenward. “Oh, and I hope you brought earplugs because I forgot to pack my CPAP.” 
I slump to the floor. This is going to be the longest ten days of my life. 
* * *
The common spaces are filling with more and more people as everyone deposits their luggage in their rooms and ventures out on deck for the safety drill. I am scanning the crowds for my parents. Since we are all on the gingerbread deck, they have to be here somewhere. 
“You stuck me in a one-bed cabin with grandma!” I exclaim, upon seeing my dad. 
“Hey, talk to your mother. She wasn’t going to come.” 
“She’s Granny. Of course, she was going to insist on coming,” I reply. 
“They were out of the family block when she decided she wanted to join us. It was put her with you or leave her out, which was my preference.” 
“Oh, stop,” Mom says, joining us. She is carrying two steaming mugs of Glühwein and passes one to Dad. “It’ll be nice for you to spend time with her. Besides, you get along with her better than anyone else in the family.” 
I roll my eyes and shift my attention to the crew member explaining how to board the life raft in case of an emergency. Although I’m not actually hearing anything they are saying. They repeat this stuff in an emergency, right? 
I’ve always been the family fixer. Leave it to me to smooth everything over. That’s been the story of my entire life, and people wonder why I am not eager to settle down and continue making concessions for a spouse and in-laws. 
“Smile, sweetheart,” Mom says. “It’s your sister's Alaska wedding cruise!” 
“What? We’re not going to Hawaii? Shoot, I did not pack for this. My luggage is full of bikinis.” 
She glowers at me, and I return a tight-lipped grin. 
We are released from the emergency drill to begin enjoying the frivolities of the ship. My parents are off to have a more comprehensive orientation. They love making plans. No doubt they will have a lot of ideas at dinner about how we can all spend our time aboard this floating holiday horror. Although from the flurry of emails my sister sent in the weeks leading up to the cruise with an ever-expanding itinerary of mandatory events, I doubt any of us will have a minute to spare. I have no idea where the bride-to-be is, or the groom, for that matter. Since Aubrie is on a different floor, her safety drill is located in a different part of the ship. I consult the cruise app for Frosty’s Bar and ditch my parents. Traitors. I can’t believe they stuck me with Granny in a cabin with one bed.
The different scents from each floor mingle together in the main atrium, creating a nauseating holiday aroma that will live in my subconscious for the rest of my life. The banisters of the curving staircase are striped red and white, like candy canes. There is an evergreen tree that reaches up four stories. It is decked in so many shiny gold and silver balls that it almost obscures the pine needles. I reach out my hand, but the pine needles are just shy of my grasp. 
“Miss, please do not molest the decorations,” someone says behind me. 
I spin around, flushed with embarrassment, and freeze.
“Hi there, Roxanne. Almost didn’t recognize you. It’s been so long,” he says, leaning in close. 
My breath catches. I was not prepared to see him so soon. Actually, I had planned to avoid him until the wedding, then ignore him, wait for him to get off the boat, and then have a proper meltdown. Now we’re stuck together for ten whole days. Instead of pretending we were not almost engaged a few years ago, he’s obviously here early to torture me. Years I’ve spent bitterly regretting my decision.
“And just a friendly fyi, the candy canes are not lickable,” he says, a whisper breath away from my ear. Electricity shoots down my neck and coils lower, sparking every few moments, reminding me Broderick can still ignite my pilot light the way no one else has.
“Try it already?” I ask. He smirks. “I thought you were getting on just for the ceremony, then leaving.”
“It sounds like you don’t want me here.” 
“I’m just surprised to see you already. I figured you had better things to do than the holiday horror cruise.”
Broderick staggers back, clutching his heart. “You wound me. What could be more fun than watching you enjoy all this?”
I brush past him, desperate to find a quiet place to compose myself from the shock of running into my ex-boyfriend. After four years, I can't believe my pulse is racing after one encounter, but it is. I thread through the ugly Christmas sweater-wearing crowd, but every place is teeming with passengers. My room is in the opposite direction. I consult my ELF Link and continue down the hallway. Broderick doesn’t take the hint and follows me past more carolers into the bar. 
It is an ice palace, literally. Well, not real ice, but it gives a good impression. The walls are sparkling white with snowflake detailing, the bar looks like it’s been carved out of a glacier with lighted icicles hanging down above the bar back, which has been painted to resemble the depths of a cave where I imagine the Yeti lives. 
“Look who you found,” Aubrie says. Clearly, she is one too many Glühwein in to the voyage. “Nice to see you, Broderick.” Aubrie always did have a soft spot for him. Traitor. 
There’s a sudden commotion at the door as Ellery enters, shrieking and ringing a cowbell. I rush over, desperate to remedy this room situation. Ellery pulls me into a hug. 
“I’m getting married!” 
“Yay,” I reply less than enthusiastically. I squirm out of her grasp. “Can I bunk with you?” I ask. 
“I would, but all the bridesmaids are staying in my suite until the wedding.”
“What about after?” I ask. 
“Well, it’ll be for Mitchell and me. Honeymoon time!” She winks. 
“Okay, well, where are the bridesmaids staying after?”
“Their original room.”
“Great, so I can stay there now.”
“That’s where Mitchell is staying now.”
Ugh, this is too complicated. And obviously, I am not bunking with the groom. I glance at Broderick, then turn away, shaking my head. I am not going there again. 
“Don’t you want to know about my cabin?” Broderick asks, latching on to our conversation.
“No. I’m not the least bit curious.” 
He shrugs and turns to the bartender. 
“You aren’t going to sulk, are you?” Ellery asks. 
“Me? No,” I reply. 
“Because no one did this to you on purpose, Roxanne. Don’t take everything so personally. Besides, I thought you’d really like your own room instead of sharing it with the bridesmaids. I know how you enjoy your own space. It’s all Mom’s fault Granny is here.”
“Sure, yeah.” 
Before I can continue, a series of high-pitched shrieks echoes around Frosty’s Bar. The bridesmaids have arrived. Eight blondes bound towards us and surround Ellery in a cloud of vanilla perfume that makes me gag. They spirit her away for some pre-wedding ritual, leaving me behind. 
“You’d think Ellery would have you staying with her and the bridesmaids. I mean, you are maid of honor,” Aubrie says. 
“An honorary title. You know we aren’t close,” I reply.
A sinking feeling settles in my stomach. I was hoping no one else caught that. Ellery and I haven’t exactly been close. Then again, there’s that whole we are very different people thing. Since it is just the two of us, people often assume we should be best-sister friends, but we aren't. 
“Look at them, no thank you. The perfume cloud alone would suffocate me.” 
Aubrie pats my shoulder, then turns to the bar. “One slushie snowman for the MOH and another eggnog for me.”
“Haven’t you had plenty so far?” I ask. 
But Aubrie is too absorbed talking to the bartender to hear me. Then someone grabs me from behind. I stiffen, but Broderick is leaning against the bar nursing his usual, a whiskey on the rocks.
He releases me, and I turn to see Mitchell, the groom. “You know she loves you.”
“I know. I’m just the moon to her sun,” I reply, returning the hug. 
“But you love the sun,” he replies, making me smile. 
“Fine, reverse it,” I quip.
“Shots for the maid of honor and best man,” Mitchell says. “I insist.” He waves Broderick over.
My heart starts jackhammering as Broderick slides between Mitchell and me. Darn it. It happened earlier, but I was hoping that was because I hadn’t expected to see him yet. I stuff my hands in my hoodie pouch and fiddle with the scrap of paper inside. The bartender rings a bell and yells “AVALANCHE” before a flurry of ‘snowflakes’ tumble down from the snowy “mountain” around the bar. 
What did Mitchell order? I think, shaking the snow from my shoulders. I feel someone watching me, and I look up to see Broderick squinting in my direction. 
He abruptly turns to the bar, grabs both shots, and holds mine just out of reach. I give him an exasperated look, and he reluctantly passes it to me. Our fingers brush as I take the snowflake-etched glass, but I almost drop the whole thing when he jerks his hand back as if my touch were painful. The familiar flush of anxious dread washes over me in a prickly heat. The clear liquid trembles as I’m waiting for Mitchell to finish his toast, not even hearing the words. The ship begins to rock, and I feel increasingly unsteady. I take the shot and throw it back. 

* * *
Sun is streaming in through the large window. I grope blindly for a bottle of water that I generally always keep on my bedside table, but instead grope a firm backside. I sit up too quickly, and the room starts to spin.
“Morning, Rox,” Broderick says from beside me.