Book Spotlight: Christmas in Newfoundland 3 by Mike Martin

Christmas traditions, old and new from Sgt. Windflower and his family and friends.

 

Sgt. Windflower loves Christmas and we’re happy to share what he and his family and friends do at Christmastime in Grand Bank or Marystown or Ramea, Newfoundland. Some of the stories feature Windflower and Sheila’s adorable daughters and of course Eddie Tizzard and his family make several spotlight appearances. Other stories take you back to Christmas seasons of many years long past and there’s even a return of a fabulous Newfoundland tradition, the Mummers. Christmas is a time to celebrate but it is also a time to reminisce and remember. We hope that it will bring back pleasant memories for you and your family to share at Christmas and throughout the year. Come celebrate Christmas in Newfoundland with Sgt. Windflower Mysteries.

Read sample here.

Christmas in Newfoundland is available at Amazon.

Book Excerpt

A Christmas Wish

Richard Tizzard gazed out at the ocean from his small home in Grand Bank, Newfoundland. The wind was high, and the waves were crashing against the shore, sending spray up into the air. Already, his house had a thick coating of the stuff on the side facing the water and he could hear it creaking and groaning against this relentless onslaught.

But inside, with the wood stove piled high, Richard and his old dog, Rusty, were perfectly comfortable and content. Both of them were coming to the end of their lives and Richard had accepted that almost completely. His children were trying to keep him hanging on as long as possible, but he was fine with what he knew was an inevitable outcome. 

He loved the quote by the great Bengali poet, Rabindranath Tagore that his friend, Doctor Vijay Sanjay had shared with him. He smiled to himself as he repeated it to Rusty. “’Death is not extinguishing the light; it is putting out the lamp as dawn has come’.” Rusty seemed to smile, too, at this saying. 

It wasn’t that he wanted to go, but Richard Tizzard was getting himself ready. In the meantime, he planned to enjoy his family to the upmost. His two daughters, Margaret and Brenda lived in Grand Bank with their almost grown-up families. His son, Eddie, lived in Marystown now with his wife Carrie and their two children. Little Hughie was almost two and the joy of Richard’s life while the baby, Sophie, was quickly overtaking her brother as his favourite. 

He smiled again when he thought about Eddie and his young family. It reminded him of when he had a young family of his own back in the tiny community of Ramea. Ramea is and was a small village off the southwest coast of Newfoundland that was only accessible by ferry. It did, however, have a rich fishing ground nearby and for many years provided a good livelihood for Richard and his four brothers, all of whom fished the abundant waters for many years.

But in the early 1990’s the inshore cod fishery collapsed and by 1992, when the cod moratorium was declared, all of them were out of work. The older brothers retired their boats and licenses and took the government support that was offered. Richard was too young for that, so he used the payout to move to Grand Bank. First, he worked in the fishing industry on a crew of a longliner operating out of Marystown. But when that work diminished, he went back to his true love, carpentry and woodworking.

He still did a little personal work on the side but his days of working for a living were over. He enjoyed all his family and the grandchildren tremendously, but the truth was that all he had left today were memories. Like many older people he spent a lot of time reminiscing and remembering these days. And as it was getting near Christmas, he thought a lot about Christmas from his past.

Growing up in his mom and dad’s saltbox house in Ramea. Christmas was a very quiet and peaceful affair. But he still remembered it fondly as one of the nicest times of the year. His father and older brothers were fishermen, so the winter was a slow season. They fixed their nets and did a few odd jobs around the house, but most of their time was spent cutting and splitting wood for the cast iron woodstove that heated their home and was action central for all cooking and baking.

About two weeks before Christmas his mother would start her Christmas baking. Shortbread cookies, mince pies and next year’s Christmas cakes. This year’s cakes were all ready to be unwrapped in a week or so and that would begin the ‘season of eating’ his dad called it. Richard loved the smell of the cookies and cakes as the days went by and to hear his mother singing, usually some old hymn or Christmas song like Angels We Have Heard on High or Away in a Manger. 

The men would continue their work as usual until a few days before Christmas Day. Then, his father would announce that it was time to get their tree and the whole family, except his mother, who was almost literally chained to the stove in the kitchen, would head out with their horse and sleigh to find a Christmas tree. They didn’t have to go far.

The houses in Ramea were built mostly around the harbour in sheltered nooks and crannies out of the constant wind. That meant almost all the land above them was still heavily forested with an abundance of Balsam firs that made the perfect Christmas trees. His father would lead the procession into the forest, but the tradition in the Tizzard family was that all the children would draw straws to see would pick their tree. The year Richard drew the shortest straw he was so excited he almost peed his pants.

As the others urged him on, making suggestions, Richard took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them and turned around, he saw it. A six-foot Balsam fir with many branches that spread out from top to bottom. “That’s it,” he cried, and everyone cheered. They cut it down and put it on the back of the sleigh to go home. When they arrived, their mom had made a pot of hot cocoa and while the tree was drying out in a corner they sat around and enjoyed their sweet, hot treat with some home-made cookies.

When Richard closed his eyes today, he could still smell that Christmas tree in their kitchen and taste that delicious hot cocoa. He remembered his mom sitting by herself next to the stove smiling. That was one of her last Christmas holidays with them, he recalled. She died like so many others at that time from complications in the birth of his youngest sister. Christmas was never quite the same in their household after that.

– Excerpted from Christmas in Newfoundland 3 by Mike Martin, Ottawa Press and Publishing, 2025. Reprinted with permission. 

About the Author

Mike Martin was born in St. John’s, NL on the east coast of Canada and now lives and works in Ottawa, Ontario. He is a long-time freelance writer and his articles and essays have appeared in newspapers, magazines and online across Canada as well as in the United States and New Zealand. He is the award-winning author of the best-selling Sgt. Windflower Mystery series, set in beautiful Grand Bank. There are now 16 books in this light mystery series with the publication of Friends are Forever. A Tangled Web was shortlisted in 2017 for the best light mystery of the year, and Darkest Before the Dawn won the 2019 Bony Blithe Light Mystery Award. All That Glitters was shortlisted for the LOLA 2024 Must Read Book of the year award. Some Sgt. Windflower Mysteries are now available as audiobooks and the latest Darkest Before the Dawn was released as an audiobook in 2024. All audiobooks are available from Audible in Canada and around the world. Mike is Past Chair of the Board of Crime Writers of Canada, a national organization promoting Canadian crime and mystery writers and a member of the Newfoundland Writers’ Guild and Capital Crime Writers. His latest book is Christmas in Newfoundland 3: Sgt. Windflower Holiday Tales. Visit Mike’s website at www.sgtwindflowermysteries.com. Connect with him at X and Facebook.

Sponsored By:

Creativity Has Gone to the Dogs by author Celeste Fenton

 

Two mysteries. One fight for survival. And danger closing in from both sides of the sea.

Gabby Heart travels to a remote Scottish castle with her best friend, Abe—a bestselling children’s author—expecting misty views, historic charm, and quiet time to plan their next book series. But Brantmar Castle holds more than ghosts of the past. When the women are taken hostage, Gabby must rely on her instincts, her resilience, and the help of men who may not deserve her trust to survive. Meanwhile, on Dost Island, young residents are vanishing without a trace. As those left behind scramble for answers, unsettling clues emerge—leading to a dark motive no one could have predicted. From the storm-swept highlands of Scotland to the rocky shores of New England, Captive Heart at Brantmar Castle blends mystery, emotional grit, simmering romance, and humor, in a story where secrets run deep... and time is running out.

Purchase a copy of Captive Heart at Brantmar Castle

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/Captive-Heart-Brantmar-Castle-Mysteries/dp/B0FNNF1N9L

Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/captive-heart-at-brantmar-castle-celeste-fenton/1148429830

Books-a-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Captive-Heart-Brantmar-Castle/Celeste-Fenton/9798292238829

You can also add this to your GoodReads reading list

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/241919370-captive-heart-at-brantmar-castle?from_search=true&from_srp=true&qid=pApPHZoBlz&rank=8

 

Creativity Has Gone to the Dogs

(How Daily Dog Walks Spark Creativity)

Some writers have muses. I have a dog. Her name is Gemma—my Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, my constant companion, and the furry little dictator who keeps me from becoming a statue fused to my red leather sofa. When I’m in writing mode, time stops existing. Hours pass. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t blinked. My legs have forgotten what circulation feels like. I’m deep in a scene with Gabby and Abe when suddenly—thud! A small, insistent head bumps my elbow.

Gemma’s saying, “Hey! Pay attention to me! I’m here! Also, I have a bladder.” I sigh. I’m at the good part. But those brown eyes are impossible to ignore, so I obey her royal command. Sometimes I grumble. Even when I grumble, tell her she has the worst timing, Gemma just wags her tail and trots toward the door, certain that the world—and my sanity—await us outside. And as soon as we step out, I know she’s right.

The air hits me like a reset button. I hear the birds singing, see the cranes stepping gracefully across the road, the squirrels squawking like gossiping neighbors. Gemma’s nose hits the ground—she’s already on the trail of a lizard. My shoulders loosen. My breathing slows. The tension I didn’t even realize I was holding starts to melt away. We wander past the lake. A log floats lazily near the bank—but wait… the log blinks. Alligator. Florida life: never dull.

Some days, the sun is so hot my skin feels as if it might sizzle like bacon. Gemma pants, her little pink tongue hanging out, but she’s determined to finish the route. We make it to the shade of an old oak, its branches sprawling like a green umbrella over the street. The azaleas are blooming—lavender and pink against the sunny yellow of the Mexican petunias. Suddenly, I remember why I love this ritual. Because this is where the thinking happens. The untangling.

As we walk, the next plot twist slips quietly into place. A line of dialogue I’ve been struggling with finally lands. Sometimes I run into neighbors. We talk. I gather bits of gossip that might (purely coincidentally, of course) find their way into a future chapter. I comfort a neighbor who hasn’t been feeling well, and it feels good to focus on someone other than myself—or Gabby, Lola, or Lavanda—and my endless list of plot holes.

Gemma visits with her dog friends—tails wagging, noses bumping, butts sniffing, the pups ecstatic about simply being. Their joy is contagious. By the time we circle back home, I feel lighter. Clearer. Refreshed. Writing can trap us inside our heads, looping through words and worries. Gemma drags me—sometimes literally—back into the real world. She reminds me that life isn’t meant to be lived in front of a glowing screen. It’s meant to be walked through, sniffed, observed, laughed at, and sometimes, dodged (especially if it’s the skunk that lives in the woods around the corner). These walks are more than exercise. They’re breathing space for the soul—and the imagination. When I come back, I don’t just feel better physically; I write better. My mind feels cleansed. The rhythm of walking somehow shakes loose the next scene, the next spark, the next solution.

So yes, my creativity has gone to the dogs—and I’m grateful for it.

Because every day, Gemma reminds me to step away from my corner of the couch where my laptop and I live, to breathe, to look, to live. She makes sure I find balance between the deadlines and the daydreams, the hustle and the heart.

And as any writer (or dog) will tell you—sometimes the best ideas don’t come from sitting still. They come from putting one paw, or one foot, in front of the other. So now it’s your turn. Do you have a furry or feathered friend that keeps you grounded? I’d love for you to share in the comments—maybe a picture too. Or contact me at https://celestefenton.com/contact or on social media.

 

 

About the Author, Celeste Fenton

Celeste Fenton holds an M.Ed. and Ph.D. in education and has over thirty years’ experience in higher education. Her writing is fueled by a lifelong love of mystery, a fascination with the complexities of the human heart, and just enough real-world experience to keep things interesting. A widow, mother of adult twin sons, proud grandmother, dog lover, and semi-retired professor living in Florida, she weaves imagination with insight to create stories that are both emotionally rich and laced with suspense.

When she’s not writing, reading, or plotting her next twist, she’s often off exploring small towns across America—setting out solo for month-long adventures, much to the awe (and occasional alarm) of friends and family. Her latest obsessions include escape rooms, mastering the perfect miter cut for a DIY bathroom remodel, and making the impossible decision of where to travel next.

You can follow the author at:

Website: https://celestefenton.com/

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/people/Celeste-Fenton-Mysteries-of-a-Heart

IG: https://www.instagram.com/celestefentonwrites/

What is Magick Realism? by author Sherri L. Dodd

 

 

At the age of eight, Arista Kelly was frantically swept up by her parents and whisked off to an isolated town in the California redwoods. Two days later, her parents were gone. Now at the age of twenty-three, she has settled quite nicely into an eclectic lifestyle, much like her great aunt, and guardian since childhood, Bethie. She enjoys the use of herbs and crystals to help her commune with the energy and nature around her and finds pleasure in the company of her beloved pet, Royal. Usually quite satisfied with her mundane life high in the Santa Cruz Mountains, life becomes unsettling when a new recurring vision of an ominous tattoo as well as increased activity from the ghostly presence within her own cottage invade her once-harmonious existence. But life in this mountain sanctuary takes an even darker turn when the body of Arista's former classmate is found in the nearby river. As other young women fall prey to a suspected serial killer, Arista realizes that the terror is coming to her.

Purchase a copy of Murder Under Redwood Moon

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Murder-Under-Redwood-Moon-Paranormal/dp/1685133886

Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/murder-under-redwood-moon-sherri-l-dodd/

Bookshop.org: https://bookshop.org/p/books/murder-under-redwood-moon-a-thrilling-paranormal-murder-mystery-sherri-l-dodd/21145506

You can also add this to your GoodReads reading list

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/206022905-murder-under-redwood-moon

What is Magick Realism?

Google makes defining magick realism on paper quite easy. You take the first part – magick – and realize that adding a ‘k’ to the word known for black silk hats containing plush white bunnies makes it into a reference toward occult or spiritual practice. The second word – realism – is accepting a situation as it is and being prepared to deal with it.

 “Did you say occult?” you may ask in a recoil, with either your heartrate picking up or your mind shutting down further discussion. I do not blame you. The occult has long been associated with demons and black magick. But it also consists of fun pastimes like astrology or tarot readings when you feel that random urge to meet with a mystical woman to find out about the promotion you applied for. Come Monday, all is confirmed by your generous manager. These readings are even more fun when they involve your love life, as a friend of mine found out when she visited a reputable seer. Feeling unwanted after her recent breakup, she was pleased to discover that she would soon meet her future husband and was given his profession and initials. About three months later, her and I are enjoying the late-eighties downtown dance scene when she totally hits it off with a random guy. By the end of the night, she realized that while it was not quite the profession as she had envisioned it, his career matched, as did one initial. By the next week, she found their astrology signs paired well, too. While the details were intriguing it was the actual chemistry that led to their engagement the following year. Only then did she realize his surname before adoption matched the missing initial. The seer’s premonition, complete.

 Magick realism is also rooted in contact with deceased loved ones. My favorite magickal moment happened on what would have been my revered grandmother’s hundredth birthday. Late-afternoon, I ‘told’ her how much I missed her and asked for a sign that she heard me. Not expecting the ‘response’ anytime soon, I donned a swimsuit and soaked in the hot tub with my husband. With no rain in the forecast, due to it being out of season and a drought, within thirty minutes of my request, a small shower trickled down upon us from a passing cloud, complete with that fresh natural scent. My grandmother loved rain as much as I, so it was easy for me to see the magick realism of the moment. Further, we watched the small cloud slowly dissipate as it drifted from our vicinity, giving no one else the experience.

 For me, magick realism is seeing the world beyond the mundane. Sure, we can explain away most things with dry, grounded, and scientific reasoning. But why? When there is happenstance, so flukey, that you scratch your head with a scrutinizing suspicion, why lose out on a chance for a novel experience? Yes, keep one foot on the ground, as you do not want to end up being a regular in the evaluation ward, but to work on rekindling that fantastical perspective you had as a child can bring a richness to your life that makes it just a little bit brighter.

About the Author, Sherri Dodd

Sherri was raised in southeast Texas. Walking barefoot most days and catching crawdads as they swam the creek beds, she had a love for all things free and natural. Her childhood ran rampant with talk of ghosts, demons, and backcountry folklore. This inspired her first short story for sale about a poisonous flower that shot toxins onto children as they smelled it. Her classmate bought it for all the change in his pocket. It was not long after that her mother packed the two of them up and headed to the central coast of California. She has ping-ponged throughout the area ever since.

Her first real step into writing was the non-fiction fitness book, Mom Looks Great – The Fitness Program for Moms published in 2005, and maintaining its accompanying blog. Now, transmuting the grief of her father's passing, she has branched into Fiction, specifically the genre of Paranormal Thriller with generous dashes of Magick Realism! Her Murder, Tea & Crystals Trilogy released book one - Murder Under Redwood Moon - in March 2024. Book two - Moonset on Desert Sands - released in March 2025, and the final book in the series – Hummingbird Moonrise – became #1 New Release in Occult Supernatural on Amazon in October 2025!

You can follow the author at:

Website: www.sherridodd.com

Instagram: @Sherri.Dodd.Author  https://www.instagram.com/sherri.dodd.author/