… she was a little odd for an eight-year-old. She had already decided to be a ghost and demon hunter when she grew up. Buffy of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, a series she had watched with her mum, was her role model. Her clothes, which were mainly black, had to have pockets for her to store her mini flashlight, garlic, bottle of Holy water and set of knives. The garlic, knives and bottle were plastic. The 'Holy' water was from the tap, but Sasha had a vivid imagination, so none of that mattered to her. Her footwear of choice were high top Converse trainers but her one small nod to femininity were that they were black and silver glitter, because according to Sasha, every girl needs a bit of sparkle in their lives, even vampire slayers.
As far as she was concerned, the chemistry between them right now made the Big Bang look like a firework fizzling out.
‘I've never dated anyone from his sort of background, I don't know what to do. Is he always going to be so stiff upper-lipped?' 'It's not his upper lip you need to worry about,'
Every book of Emily Harvale’s that I’ve ever picked up has been good fun, I adore her wit and clever levity; and, if you are paying attention – she tosses in sudden nimble dashes and subtle nips of grin producing irony for an added treat. Christmas at Wynter House was a lively yet pleasant read that kept me smiling and engaged throughout. The characters were relatable and realistically prone to a culture clash with mischief, quick banter, innuendo, eye-rolling, thoughtless reactions, and rude blurting – which are common everyday occurrences in my vicinity anyway. This delightfully penned tale kicked off a new series and I will be eagerly awaiting more of the same from this gifted scribe.