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Books

Christmas Word Search

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Welcome, Everyone, to my humble blog/website.

Here you will find all separate pages about my novels, the reviews, and links to where you can buy the books. There’s the latest news, links to my podcast, articles and blogging of other fantastic books.

But first …. here’s my little ditty to get you into the Christmas spirit. And the word that you need for this scavenger hunt is under the story.

P.S. It’s a little bit graphical.

Home Comforts

Christmas was fast approaching, something that Sarah Jane was not looking forward to at all. It was to be her first Christmas away from her family and wonderful England.

Sarah Jane had lived in Greece for the past eight months with her boyfriend Kostas, whom she had met while holidaying in Kavos, Corfu. During their time together, Sarah Jane’s months were filled with new adventures and experiences, so she didn’t have much spare time to think about her family or England. Only now, December had arrived, and Christmas suddenly seemed daunting.

 The closer the holidays came, the more Sarah Jane thought about her home and all the things she took for granted and now missed. Greece had their own traditions, but unfortunately, they didn’t include roast turkey and Christmas pudding. What it did include was a Christmas dinner of egg and lemon soup with boiled chicken – yummy.

Within no time, Christmas Eve arrived, and Sarah Jane was feeling very unhappy. She was upset with herself for not choosing to go home for Christmas and upset with Kostas for not making an effort.

“You’ll have to get used to it if you’re going to stay here.” He had told her.

The thing was, Kostas had been to England. He had experienced a typical English Christmas, so surely he understood how she was feeling and how homesick she was? But then, she couldn’t lay all the blame on him. It seemed that even her own family back home had forgotten her.  No presents, not one card. It was as if Christmas didn’t exist, and she wished the holidays would just come and go.

Already, she had made up her mind that it was going to be her worst Christmas ever.

Sarah Jane felt needed cheering up; it seemed even Kostas was avoiding her because of her moods. So that miserable Christmas Eve, she decided to visit her friend. Mary lived locally and was married with far too many children. She had survived many dreary Christmas. Sarah Jane hoped she would get some tips on how to endure the holidays and even a little support. However, all Mary could say was:

“You’ll get used to it. You wait until Easter; it’s fabulous; parades, big celebrations, you’ll love it.”

 But Sarah Jane didn’t want to wait until Easter. With a heavy heart, she left Mary’s and started to make her way back home.

She knew she needed to make an effort even if her heart said otherwise, and she didn’t want to spoil the holidays for Kostas and his family. 

She settled for a couple of drinks and a cuddle on the sofa with Kostas. However, as she neared the house, she felt a change. Home suddenly felt warm and inviting.

Sarah Jane stood speechless at the open door. Frank Sinatra’s familiar Christmas tune poured out into the street.

Her living room was covered in Christmas decorations. Tinsel and streamers showered every wall, and to her right, she saw the best-looking Christmas tree ever. It was adorned with beautiful garlands and twinkling lights, and her lungs filled with the scent of fresh pine. Underneath the tree were the missing presents and cards. Sitting on a seasonal-dressed table were mince pies, a bowl of mixed nuts, and a bottle of Moet chilling on ice.

Sarah Jane felt so happy; she thought she’d burst. Instead, tears flowed down her cheek.

Kostas had spent most of the day finding a suitable tree to chop down. The live turkey that had been hidden away was now sitting proudly on a plate prepared and ready for cooking. 

The postman had delivered the presents a week before. He hid them in the attic, knowing Sarah Jane would never go up there.

“Kostas, I – oh my God, how did you?  … I didn’t know – thank you. Oh, thank you so much.”

She ran to where he was standing, which happened to be under a bough of mistletoe.

“Merry Christmas, my darling,” he said. 

And as it happened, it was the merriest she’d ever had.


NORTHPOLE

Now please go to Fiction For The Soul to get your next word.

If you get lost, go to https://karenjmossman.com/2022/12/01/festive-blog-hop-2022/

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A Match Made In Heaven

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Please make sure to read the author’s note at the end of the story.

Illustration by Gabriel San Martin © 2022

The Blue Stone Bench

Karina Kantas ©2022

She’s there again. Just like clockwork, her and her dog. Every Thursday, ten o’clock in the morning on the dot, she arrives, coffee in hand. I wonder what she does or where she goes when it’s raining?  Why every Thursday? Why always this park, this spot, this blue stone bench?

Every time, I say I’m going to go over and introduce myself and talk to her. But every week my feet say glued to the ground. My mouth goes dry and my heart feels like it is about to jump out of my chest.

It’s her big brown eyes and the smile she gives to her dog. I swear she casts a spell that leaves me frozen.

Again, another week was wasted. Again, she bewitched me, and I knew at eleven o’clock she would stand up and leave the park. And I would have to wait another week before I see her again.

But fate had another plan!

“Benji, no!” I yelled as my small, patched Jack Russell scarpered off. I watched his little legs and the lead disappear around the corner before I registered what happened and started running after him.

I chased after him, but I’m not what you would call an athletic man. Don’t get me wrong. I’m tall and slim. You just won’t find me in a gym. That was made obvious as I had just completed a lap of the park, yelling for Jack (yes, I know, very original.)

And guess where I found him? Sitting beside her dog. I threw myself on the bench and held out my finger to her, hoping she would let me get my breath back, before she started up a conversation. I hoped she didn’t see my shaky legs that felt like they had turned into jelly and would have caved in on me if it wasn’t for the blue bench that became my rock.

The gorgeous lady looked at me. Her eyes twinkled with laughter.

I smiled, even though I hadn’t got my breath completely back. The lady held out her coffee to me. I shook my head.

“Please take it. You look like you need it more than me.” Her voice sang to me; smooth, clear and left me with goose-pimples.

She held the coffee out, and so I took it.

“Thank you.” I sipped the cooling dark, strong coffee. Umm just how I like it. A took a couple more sips when I turned to face her, intent on talking normal English words that would come out of a human, but instead, I just looked at her, with a half-open mouth and nothing coming out of it. Thankfully, she shot the embarrassment down and spoke first.

“I wondered how long it would take you to get the nerve to come over and say hi.”

Now my mouth opened wider in shock.

“I see. A man of few words.” There was laughter again twinkling in her eyes. “I’ve seen you and Jack a few times around the park.”

I knew I had to say something before she accused me of being a creepy stalker or something, which, okay I was watching her, a lot, but not stalking, and now it seemed my stealth wasn’t as good as I thought.

I sat the cup on the blue stone in between us and then held my hands up in defence and hopefully gave her my winning smile.

“Yes, we come here regularly and if you don’t mind me asking–Oh, shoot, my manners. Hi, I’m Mark.” I held my hand out to her, and she fitted her soft small hand into mine.

“Hi Mark. I’m Jessie.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jessie.” I must have looked like an idiot just staring with this huge smile on my face. “Thanks for the coffee, by the way.”

She laughed. “You’re welcome.” She looked down at her dog and then looked up at me. “Maybe you can return the favour sometime.”

She looked so shy. I guess it wasn’t often a woman ask a man out for coffee. Well, I wasn’t about to leave her hanging. “Yes. That’s a definite IOU.”

Jeez, her smile warmed my chest. I could just stare at Jessie all day.

“Umm, you were saying before you introduced yourself to me something about if I don’t mind you asking. I don’t, so go ahead.”

Her hand reached over and touched my arm. No, electricity didn’t occur, but when she moved her hand away I felt the warmth leave with it.

“So, umm. I see you and your dog sitting here every Thursday at around the same time.” I saw her smile vanish, and she had a faraway look in her eyes. Gosh, did I just put my foot in it and ruin this chat? “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. Just pretend I didn’t ask.”  I turned my head away while trying to think of something smart to say to her.

She shifted away from me, and my stomach dropped, knowing I had messed things up, and it didn’t look like I was going to get a second chance.

“Grace was my sister,” she said with a sigh. I looked to where she was pointing and saw a silver metal plaque with the words ‘In memory of my loving sister Grace,’ and two dates and then underneath was the line, ’Sing with the angels.’

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Jessie. I should never have asked.”

“No, it’s okay. It must have seemed strange seeing me here at 10 am every Thursday. My sister lost her fight with cancer on a Thursday at 10 am. She loved this park and used to come and sing. She had a wonderful voice, and people stopped to listen.”

“Then I can understand why this place and spot means so much to you. That was a beautiful thing you did for your sister, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Mark.” She smiled, and my heart lifted.

“I hope this is not too forward of me. But it’s coming up to 11 am when you normally leave. I don’t suppose you would like to go for a coffee with me?”

“I would love to.” She answered and held my hand as we walked out of the park with our dogs following behind us.

Author’s Note:

I manage the group Children’s book and illustrations, on Facebook. This is where authors and illustrators of children’s books can promote their work. When I saw the above illustration I immediately wanted to write flash fiction about it. The illustrator Gabriel Martin was very excited about the idea. And so above is the story I wrote using this wonderful Illustration as inspiration.

For more information and wonderful illustrations by Gabriel San Martin, go and check out the website. http://www.gabrielsanmartin.com

Please let the artist know what you think about this illustration.

I am an award-winning author of fourteen publications. You can find all my work and social media links right here.

https://www.linktr.ee/karinakantas

Books, Promotion

Day 14 #MarchoftheWriter

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Return of the pitch

So a pitch is just like being a salesperson. You have maybe 5 mins to sell your product to that manager of the shop, factory, office. A story is no different. The first line has to be the shocker, the lead line; Leading the agent or publisher to read the next part.


The rule of pitching SHORT BUT SWEET. But then you all know I like to break the rules! 😉

So without further ado here’s my pitch.

What do you do if you’re stranded in a barren land and the sky turns red, a sign that the acid rain is about to pour down on you and melt your skin and bones?
Bez is thrown out of Mount Elta for having a big mouth. Kyte for being an instigator and disturbing the peace. The Committee, are the law inside what was their home. No one would dare stand up to them in fear of being cast out.
Now with a backpack containing an acid-proof tent, a little food and medical supplies all created from the precious Terra Plant, the two hunt for the OutCasts; those that had somehow survived. There was proof of their existence but not of their habitat. Can they find them in time, and more importantly, will they be welcomed?

So how did I do?
Does it make you want to know more?
Can you work out what genre of fiction this book is?

Art, Books, YouTube

Day 8 #MarchoftheWriters

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Writer’s DNA

Well, right now with my dark romances, it’s sex and violence. Sex sells, so does violence. Now imagine a book with them both!

I always throw my readers through a loop. Twists just come naturally to me, I don’t even know I’ve thrown one in there until after. I don’t want my novels to be predictable. I like to keep my readers on their toes. Just when you think you know what’s going on… you really don’t. Trust me.

Conflict. Every novel or flash fiction has to have a type of conflict. Conflict gets the juices going, the adrenaline rush and keeps those pages turning.

There is always a piece of me in my books, some more than others and I would never tell you which parts are fictional and which are reality.

I like my female characters to have heart, compassion, but still be strong and able to kick arse, either literally or with magic.

A satisfying ending. That doesn’t mean there will be a HEA. I write about real life, and real-life is dark and gritty. And in my fantasy, you still have the darkness – the good vs evil and the darkness the protagonist is fighting.

I had to put this in. DNA by BTS