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The Santa Claus of Mystic Springs

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What if Father Christmas is on the naughty list? It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas in Mystic Springs, but all is not still or calm with the department store Santa. The amateur dramatics...
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  • 22 September 2026
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What if Father Christmas is on the naughty list?
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas in Mystic Springs, but all is not still or calm with the department store Santa.
The amateur dramatics club is full of big egos and legends-in-their-own-heads, so their spats aren't unusual. But when the theatre owner is shot dead during the Christmas play, it's Santa who pulls the trigger.
With the arrival of an unwelcome ex, a petition to end Discrimination Against Spirits, and a second attack by St Nick, the chances of a quiet Christmas seem to be quickly disappearing.
Has Santa really gone bad? Or is there more to it?
Town medium Connie and her dead sister Sage are both avoiding their own festive conundrums. A mistletoe murder is just the distraction they need.
The Santa Claus of Mystic Springs is book four in the Mystic Springs Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series, where the living and the dead work together to solve crime. Spooky, not scary, this is a cozy series with no swearing, violence or sex scenes. Each book can be read as a standalone or read in order.
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Price: $19.99
Pages: 300
Publisher: Vinci Books Ltd
Imprint: Vinci Books Ltd
Series: Mystic Springs Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series
Publication Date: 22 September 2026
Trim Size: 7.80 X 5.10 in
ISBN: 9781036714314
Format: Paperback
BISACs: FICTION / Ghost, Fantasy: cosy / cozy, FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Amateur Sleuth, FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Cozy / Paranormal, FICTION / Crime, Crime and mystery: private investigator / amateur detectives, Contemporary horror, ghost stories and supernatural fiction, Comical (humorous) crime and mystery
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ONE PENNY A STORY, I called across the playground.
Entirely unusual, given how shy I was (and still am), for me to be shouting anything across a playground.
But there I was, a double-sided sheet of narrow ruled paper (I've always been kind of particular about the paper I like. Back then, narrow ruled. Now, grid.) in my hand, selling stories I hadn't yet wrote.
Every line featured a different title. I'd lay on my bed the night before thinking of them all, probably singing along to Boyzone songs as I did [hey, don't judge... I see you over there like you never thought you were destined to marry a boy band singer...].
My school friends could buy a Mona original for one penny. One penny!
They'd pick the title they liked, hand over their sweaty penny, and I'd write the story for them.
And I've never grown out of writing stories.
Now, I write cozy mystery stories from my den in the Peak District, and when I'm not writing them, I'm reading them.