How the Ghost Stole Christmas

By Erin McCarthy

All Bailey Burke wants for Christmas is to stop seeing dead people. A reluctant spiritual medium, she craves a stress-free holiday with no ghosts popping in and out of her house.

But when Bailey does the décor for a huge fundraising party featuring a replica slide from A Christmas Story, no one expects to find Santa’s dead body. In the slide. From three years ago.

With the current Santa-for-hire and the dead Santa’s ghost harassing her, there isn’t enough eggnog in Cleveland to save Bailey’s night.

Solving St. Nick’s murder is the only way to get back to cozy nights by the fire with her cop boyfriend Marner in time for some Christmas mistletoe…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Oct 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094452555

Erin McCarthy

USA Today and New York Times Bestselling author Erin McCarthy sold her first book in 2002 and has since written over seventy-five novels and novellas in the romance and mystery genres. Erin has a special weakness for high-heeled boots, martinis, and Frank Sinatra. She lives with her renovation-addicted husband (he built her a bar, so it’s all good!) and their blended family of kids

Book preview

ONE

Santa likes his ho, ho, hos.

I looked to where my boyfriend, Jake Marner, was pointing and saw that the Santa hired for the annual Children’s Hospital Christmas party was propped against a brick building with two women inappropriately dressed for December. And by inappropriate, I mean Vegas odds were ten to one they were hookers because they were cuddling up to Jolly Old St. Nick in a way that would land Mrs. Clause on an episode of Snapped if she saw.

Maybe they’re cold and they’re rubbing on his fur suit for warmth, I said, not wanting any part of what this guy, who I had just been introduced to an hour ago, was doing on his fifteen-minute break. I was just grateful I hadn’t been the one who had hired him.

My role for the event had been the elaborate set for Santa, not dealing with the man himself.

Jake snorted. Bailey, warmth is not what they’re rubbing for, and you know it. Let’s go back inside before I have to pull out my badge.

Good plan. It was freezing outside anyway, but I had begged him to step outside so I could have both fresh air, and a hit off my e-cigarette. Yes, I recognize the irony of that.

But planning the décor for a Christmas gala where twenty kids with cancer had exclusive invites to meet Santa had been both fun and stressful and I’d needed to take five.

Apparently, Santa’s night had been equally back-breaking.

The revolving door to the hotel was moving and I saw Lauren, the woman who had hired me, step outside with an irritated expression on her face. I shoved my vape into Jake’s hand, not wanting her to see me using it. What can I say? I have a guilty conscience that has a hair trigger. Oh, hi, Lauren, did you need something?

Hi, Bailey. No, you’ve done a fantastic job, thank you. But I’m looking for Jason, our Santa. He’s missing and the kids are getting restless. These kids are recovering from life-threatening illnesses, they shouldn’t have to wait to tell Santa their wish list.

I would not want any small children climbing on this particular guy’s lap anytime soon. Or ever. Even if he had been showered Silkwood style. Lauren needed to know the current situation. I gestured down the sidewalk. He’s right there.

Dear God, Lauren said when she took in the scene. She had zero hesitation. That’s it, he’s fired. What am I going to do? Geez, I really miss William. He was hands down the best Santa we’ve ever had, and for three years now I’ve been scrambling to find someone as amazing as him.

It’s hard to find good help these days, I said, sounding a hell of a lot like my father. Jake can be Santa for the next hour or two, right, sweetheart? It wasn’t really Jake’s personality. He was a little on the dry side, but I knew for a fact he wouldn’t turn down someone’s plea for help when children were involved.

Of course I will, he said, though he did start to sigh before he stifled it.

Marner, as I had known him for six years before he’d kissed me and brought me doughnuts, sighs like it’s Morse code. Depending on what he was doing I thought of him as either Jake or Marner. When he told me he loved me, he was Jake, hands down. But the sighing could go either way and this was a Marner sigh. With very little sound, his exhalations of air indicate completely different things. They are a language unto themselves that I had been rapidly learning in the five months we’d been dating (minus when we broke up when he thought I was nuts for seeing ghosts). This sigh meant he’d rather order a bourbon at the bar and catch a glimpse of college football on his phone, but that he’d don a Santa suit for the kids.

Thank you, Lauren said. I’m going to have security fire Jason because I am not going down there and speaking to him directly. She shuddered delicately. She glanced at the vape I had shoved into Jake’s hand. When you’re done out here we’ll suit you up. We have a spare costume.

Wonderful.

Lauren disappeared and I let out air I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding in. That was close. Thanks for being my cover, honey. I took the vape back and put it in my purse.

Jake looked sexy as sin in his black suit, and shockingly not even remotely uncomfortable despite the low temperature. Cleveland in December is generally cold but this week had been downright frigid.

But Jake looked unaffected by the icy wind as he shook his head, smiling at me. I don’t get why you care if she knows you vape. Own your vices, babe.

Easy for you to say. You don’t have any vices. He really didn’t. My boyfriend was kind of perfect, aside from his inability to read my mind and say exactly what I wanted him to at any given moment. Otherwise, he was pretty darn awesome and made me feel gushy and mushy inside on a regular basis.

I have plenty of vices, Jake said. Giving in to you is probably one of them.

I didn’t see the problem with that. You are nice that way.

But if you are going to make me the smoker, we’re going to have to discuss what kind of vape you carry because I can’t be seen with that tiny little thing. It’s like the Virginia Slims of vapes. I feel like my grandmother in the nineties minus the inch-long burning ash.

I waited for him to open the door for me, clutching my coat tightly. The wind kicked my red, or as I like to think, auburn hair up and across my face. My vape isn’t manly enough for you?

The answer to that is hell no.

I shot him a look over my shoulder I hoped was sultry. No one questions your masculinity, trust me.

Jake put his hand on the small of my back over my coat and leaned in close.

He was either going to say something seductive or kiss me, both of which would be very welcome.

Instead, a loud male voice I had never heard before in my entire twenty-eight years of