Introduction
Welcome to Santa Claus, Indiana where Christmas isn’t just a holiday, it’s a way of life. Join these 12 amazing authors with 11 wonderful books as they bring you some instalove, a little mystery, and maybe some thriller, for a romance filled holiday!
The community of Santa Claus was designed in 1849. The story of how it received the name of Santa Claus has roots both in fact and legend. In January 1856 the town applied for a post office to be installed.
On June 25, 1895, as part of a nationwide standardization for place names, the post office name was changed to the one word Santaclaus. The town's unique name went largely unnoticed until the late 1920s, when Postmaster James Martin began promoting the Santa Claus postmark. The name was changed back to Santa Claus on February 17, 1928. It was then that the Post Office Department decided there would never be another Santa Claus Post Office in the United States, due to the influx of holiday mail. The growing volume of holiday mail became so substantial that it caught the attention of Robert Ripley in 1929, who featured the town's post office in his nationally syndicated Ripley's Believe It or Not! cartoon strip.
Learn more about this unique town here: https://santaclausind.org
Chapter 1
Lucas
“Pack your shit. You’re headed to Santa Claus for the week,” my publicist, Shelly, states as I take a seat in front of her desk.
I planned to spend my holiday break sitting in my apartment, wearing nothing but my underwear, and playing Madden. Apparently, she has other ideas.
“Santa Claus? As in Father Christmas?” I raise my eyebrow in question, letting my inner smartass make an appearance. Hopefully, my attitude doesn’t anger Shelly too much.
“No. The city, asshole,” she deadpans as she slides a large manila envelope across her desk toward me.
“Do I want to know what’s in here?”
Shelly flips me off as her phone rings.
“Alright, I’ll be a good boy.” I raise my hands in surrender.
Without pausing her conversation, she pushes back from her desk, pausing to smack me in the back of the head before heading out of her office.
I look down at the envelope sitting in front of me and sigh. “I really don’t want to open this.”
Before I change my mind, I unfasten the split pin and pull out the contents, taking a few moments to process the gruesome images on the paper. I’m looking at a collage of photos of me and my ex-girlfriend, Kayla—who is now my best friend—meticulously placed across the paper. Nothing too alarming…unless you look closely. Someone has aggressively slashed across her face and torso, splashing what seems to be blood across it. As my eyes track every detail on the paper, I pause when they reach the message spelled out at the bottom in newspaper clippings.
If I can’t have you, no one can. Especially Kayla Campbell.
“Well, that escalated quickly,” I mumble to myself before dropping the envelope and its contents back onto Shelly’s desk.
Somehow, over the course of my mediocre NBA career, I got myself a stalker. Everyone has their theories about how it happened, mostly to do with a jilted lover, but this person, whoever they are, has never gone this far before. I have been going back and forth with the police for a while now, but nothing ever came of it. Hopefully, now that Kayla is in danger, they will do something about it.
Unable to sit any longer, I walk around Shelly’s desk, examining all the awards and photos on her wall. Shelly Campbell is one of the best at her job, known for kicking ass and taking names for her clients. Shelly treats everyone the same, whether they’re a problem child like me or a massive superstar. If you show remorse for your actions, she is there to help you dig yourself out of the hole you found yourself in. It’s this reasoning that has kept my sorry ass on her roster for all these years.
I wasn’t a top round draft pick or anything, but I held my own. After being passed around from team to team for a few years, I found my forever home in Indiana and met Shelly. I got into some trouble a few years back, putting me on thin ice with Shelly and the team, but have stayed on the straight and narrow for the past year. Before today, my only concern was my three-point average, but now it seems my stalker has other plans.
I drop into Shelly’s seat and switch on the television. The announcer’s face fills the screen as she spouts off tonight’s feature story.
Tonight on ET, Lucas Barnes has been spotted once again with his on-again, off-again leading lady. Check out their intimate embrace outside LA Hearts this past weekend. Kayla is quick to flash the cameras a look at her new shiny ring. Will there be wedding bells ringing this holiday season?
For once, the press got the story partially right. My ex-girlfriend-turned-best-friend is getting married…but not to me. What they caught was the two of us coming from lunch a few days ago after she shared the news. Our “intimate embrace” was me catching her when her heel broke, but no one noticed that. Something so simple will not sell papers.
“That was Marcus. Kayla received a similar envelope this morning. I’m not sure how they found out before the story broke earlier today,” Shelly states as she re-enters the room, pausing opposite of me and crossing her arms across her chest. “Get your ass out from behind my desk.”
Shelly Campbell is not what you would expect from a famous sport agent, but she is the best there is. It’s why I hired her. With long blonde hair and a body like a Victoria’s Secret model, she is a force to be reckoned with. Too bad she ruins all of that by opening her mouth.
“Your seat, milady.” I give her a sweeping bow as I stand and hold her seat out for her.
Shelly rolls her eyes before plopping down into her chair and switching off the television. “Thankfully, we’re already ahead of this. I’ve already contacted the police; you need to head there and make a statement before leaving town. Marcus and I will handle the rest.” She pins me in place with her stare. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to get the hell out of Dodge.”
“I doubt this will be any different than all the other times. Besides, this whole story is a lie.” I drop back into my own seat. “Isn’t this what I pay you the big bucks to take care of?”
“I don’t want any of your shit, Lucas. We think your stalker means business. We need to ensure we do things by the book.”
“Fine. What’s in Santa Claus, anyway?” The only thing I know about the town is that it’s Christmas twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
“Nothing. That’s the point. I’ve booked Mistletoe Manor for the week. There are five bedrooms, three bathrooms, and almost five acres for you to get lost in. Can you stay out of trouble for that long? You can pick up the keys from someone name Misty at the Santa Claus store.”
My phone chimes in my pocket.
“I texted you the address and her contact information,” she continues.
“Is there anything in this town not named after something festive?”
If I have to spend more than a few days in this town, I may have a nervous breakdown. I’m all about celebrating the holidays, but being surrounded by it for too long could drive anyone insane.