Read an Excerpt
Twas the week before Christmas! All over the world The children were breathless as visions unfurled Of the magical time when their dreams would take flight And the sweet sound of sleigh bells would ring in the night.
But Santa was frantiche wasn’t elated, For his dear Mrs. Claus could not be located. The lists were not finished;
the maps were a mess, And where to deliver was anyone’s guess.
Santa’s sweet wife was indeed indispensable. To question her value was quite reprehensible. She took care of Santa,
the man she revered. She ironed his red outfit and trimmed his white beard.
But she’d flown off to Paris one day in September For a Fashion Week peek and she’d vowed to remember
To fly back at once after sampling the food, Enhancing her wardrobe, and lifting her mood.