No one looks good in a borrowed Santa suit. Especially in a police line-up.
Jacob Carter is struggling as the new sergeant of the village police station. There’s been a rash of Christmas gift thefts, his staff are bemused by his bossy city ways and, in return, he’s having trouble adapting to their more relaxed approach to community policing. Let alone the fact that everyone seems happy to get involved in everyone else’s diverse and often controversial lives.
He’s having even more trouble believing Nick Hollybush is a heartless criminal, despite the result of a bizarre line-up, and all the practical evidence mounting up. Especially with Nick’s sparkling eyes, the shy smile in Jacob’s direction, and their obvious chemistry.
How on earth is Jacob going to juggle the duties of a copper against the romantic desires of an ordinary man—and still keep the village’s Christmas celebrations safe?
Author Note: this story was originally included in the limited edition charity anthology "Kind Hearts at Christmas".
This holiday short by Clare London in one word: FUN! Small village coppers dealing with small village crime needing Santa suits for a line-up screams CUTE MEET potential. London did not fail, Jacob and Nick have a brilliant cute meet that you just know will be told in family circles for years to come.
Jacob trying to settle into a new village as the newest and head copper, Nick trying to overcome his family's bad news name, of course they are going to be drawn to each other. I'll admit the little(or not so little) crime spree that brought about the cute meet scenario I was pretty sure just what was going on but that didn't make discovering the answer any less enjoyable.
That all sounded a bit cryptic but as you know I don't do spoilers so that's the best you're going to get out of me plot-wise. I do want to say that Santa No. 5 is deliciously fun gem and a perfect way to kick off my Christmas Reads of 2023.
No one looks good in a Santa suit. It come with the Christmas costume territory, like green elf tights and knobbly reindeer antlers. You look either drunk or dissolute, and the scarlet doesn’t flatter anyone’s colouring. But Number 5 is striking. Very striking. My gaze slides up slowly from his scuffed black boots to where his hands hang half-clenched into fists at his sides. Now exposed in full Santa regalia, I can see he’s lean rather than skinny—the thick, black Santa belt is notched on one of the last holes—and the hat sits clumsily on his curls. He stands with slightly hunched shoulders, downcast eyes, and that plump mouth…
Plump? I tear my gaze from his lips, clear my throat, and instruct Mrs Summers. “Please take a good look at each man, ma’am. Make sure you look at all of them, and take your time. I must alert you that the suspect may not actually be in this line-up. But he also may be. Then let us know if you recognise one of these men as the one who was going through your bag outside the chemist.”
Mrs Summers gives a dissatisfied huff, but steps closer to the mirror and starts peering at the men.
PC Green is posing, there’s no other word for it. He’s flexing his biceps and glancing coyly up through his lashes, like he’s a starlet on the Oscars’ red carpet. The sandwich shop guys are making stupid faces at each other. Jerry from IT looks, worryingly, very guilty about something. I’ll check my anti-virus software is up to date when I get back to my desk.
Rafe winks in my direction again. My breakfast bacon bap turns in my stomach, but Mrs Summers seems to think he’s winking at her and her pink cheeks say she likes it. My gaze is drawn irresistibly back to Number 5.
Wide, blue eyes lift up and hold my gaze. His look softens with some appeal or other.
It’s not possible; he can’t see me through the mirror, that’s why it’s called one-way, right? What’s even more impossible is the shiver that goes down my spine again, and the unmistakeable tug of excitement in my groin. I’m allowed to appreciate a good-looking man, of course I am. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t. But this is neither the time nor the place. It’s no secret to my staff—and therefore, most of Kingsmere—that I’m gay, but I don’t know if he is. He could easily misjudge any kind of interest from me.
And, for God’s sake! He’s our suspect. The alleged handbag thief, and maybe, potentially, the housebreaker. Because would small, easy-going Kingsmere really have two thieves in action at the same time? Admittedly, the town is busy with Christmas shoppers, their bags and houses full of new gifts and gadgets, a huge temptation for criminals. But there have been no clues, no witnesses to any of the break-ins so far. And then this guy was caught on camera with his hand in Mrs Summers’ bag.
He gives me a sad little smile and his gaze drops back to the floor. I’ve never seen a man look less criminal in my life.
Clare London took her pen name from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.
She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic, and sexy characters.
Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter-three stage and plenty of other projects in mind… she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.
Clare loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her on all her social media.
EMAIL: clarelondon11@yahoo.co.uk
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