Santa just wants a vacation.

No autograph hounds. No flirtatious strangers. No skateboarders. Just he and Mrs. Claus, a remote Costa Rican mountain cabin, a hot tub, and absolutely nobody who knows who he is.

That lasts about forty-eight hours.

Now Mrs. Claus is following a toucan through the jungle with nothing but a cigar stub as a clue, a Yule Lad is loose in the North Pole workshop slamming every door in sight, and Santa himself is trussed up on a helicopter headed north--courtesy of a bandaged bounty hunter hired by someone with seven pink noses and very ambitious plans.

Santa's vacation is officially over.

The chaos, however, is just beginning.