
‘I regret to inform you, but your daughter is no longer enrolled here,’ the Mother Superior announced to my parents on a cold, winter day in Bethlehem, PA. I was thirteen.
I hung my head, sad for my parents, but still not understanding what the hullabaloo was all about. It wasn’t like I was a longtime student at the convent school. I’d only been there a short time. Very short.
When my poor father asked why I wasn’t staying, the stern nun said in a crisp, clear voice: ‘She reads comics.’
Really?
True, the Sisters of Mercy catered to young girls thinking about joining the Order and with my sassy poetry writing and short skirts I was borderline — below borderline — but comics stashed under my hard pillow with my missal and rosary beads was the last straw for the pious woman. She knew I wasn’t nun material. I wanted to travel, meet cute guys, dance, eat chocolates at Ladurée in Paris…
And so I did. I had wild adventures up and down the Continent and spent Christmas with the troops in Italy. Yes, that’s me in the photo reading comics — I was with US Army Special Services on a trip with soldiers and their families to Abetone in the Italian Alps for a skiing trip. I found an Uncle Scrooge comic book in Italian and devoured it. I often read comics in different languages to learn the vernacular, slang, everyday expressions.
Not the catechism required at the convent.
But the good Sisters taught me about humility, giving, discipline. Traits that kept me out of trouble and helped me become a writer. So even though I wasn’t a good ‘fit’ to take the veil, I will always be grateful to the Sisters behind the revolving door of parochial and convent schools I attended. Sometimes the nuns uttered a sigh of relief when I left, others hugged me and cried over me leaving. They ‘got’ me with one nun giving me time during study hall to write my ‘Paris mystery novel’ when I was fourteen.
I often wondered if I should have entered a life of religious service since I have a strong need for detail and strict discipline to finish what I started, along with my fanatical dive into deep research mode for my stories, and my love of teaching children. Qualities needed to take that path and I just didn’t see it. That question prompted me to write a WW2 Christmas novella about a young woman who hides from the Nazis by becoming ‘Sister Angelina’ in charge of a motely group of orphan boys… then she meets Captain Mack O’Casey, an American Army captain who tests her faith…
Add to it a Christmas Eve memory at the service club where I worked in Livorno, Italy (we hosted a Christmas party for orphan boys and the nuns and how the EMs Enlisted Men helped me locate a lost little orphan named Daniele), and you have ‘A Soldier’s Italian Christmas’.
I hope you enjoy my video posted below near the end of this post! Merry Christmas!!
Jina xx
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My time travel back to WW2:
HER LOST LOVE:
Enjoy a trip back to Posey Creek, PA during WW 2 on the home front as Kate Arden prepares for the holidays… until her world comes crashing down when her fiancé ships overseas in ‘Her Lost Love’.
Available at e-tailers everywhere… print and audio book, too.
Find out more in HER LOST LOVE E-book links:
US Amazon https://amzn.to/2pcz2eN
UK Amazon https://amzn.to/31rF4pZ
Follow me on BookBub for new releases and promo deals!

Time travel back to Christmas 1943 on the home front with my holiday Women’s Fiction novel HER LOST LOVE
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On a cold December day in 1955, Kate Arden got on a train to go home for Christmas. This is the story of what happened when she got off that train. In 1943. In 1943 Kate Arden was engaged to the man she loved, Jeffrey Rushbrooke. She was devastated and heartbroken when he was called up for wartime duty and later killed on a secret mission in France.
But what if Kate could change that? What if she could warn him and save his life before Christmas? Or will fate have a bigger surprise in store for her?
Her Lost Love is a sweeping, heartbreakingly romantic novel – it’s one woman’s chance to follow a different path and mend her broken heart…
———–
HER LOST LOVE

Thank you for stopping by! If you like WW 2 romance, check out my holiday novella that takes place in Italy on the road to Rome on Christmas Eve during the cold winter of 1943: A Soldier’s Italian Christmas.
December 1943 Italy
He is a US Army captain, a battle-weary soldier who has lost his faith.
She is a nun, her life dedicated to God.
Together they are going to commit an act the civilized world will not tolerate.
They are about to fall in love.
Winner in the Novella Category in the I Heart Indie contest A Soldier’s Italian Christmas is available on Kindle ~Jina
Also, my Civil War medical drama: LOVE ME FOREVER is available on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited Liberty Jordan travels back to 1862 as an re-enactor– I love the Christmas scene with Liberty tending to the wounded from both the North and the South…
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If you love Civil War romance and time travel and TWO hunky military heroes, check out my Kindle Scout winner: LOVE ME FOREVER
She wore gray.
He wore blue.
But their love defied the boundaries of war. And time.
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Everyone who knows me knows I’m big on planning. That’s because my brain gets all stressed out if I don’t know what’s going on, whether I have time to say yes to something, or when I’m afraid I’m missing out on something. That’s why I already know where we’re spending Christmas (with friends a few minutes away), what I’m bringing for dinner (a homemade chocolate pie, homemade cornbread, and drinks), and what I’ll be wearing (embroidered jeans, a lightweight knit shirt, and taking both a sweater and sweatpants for warmth and comfort later). All that in the first week of December! Woohooo!! And now I’m not stressed at all about Christmas. (Yup, Christmas shopping already done!)
But when it comes to still trying to balance the changes menopause is having on my brain and my energy with the goals I want to achieve in 2026…well, planning in a way that will bring me the most peace is critical. One of the things I learned is that cortisol, the stress hormone, can make menopause symptoms worse. So if I’m feeling stressed by how I’m feeling (or by how it’s keeping me from achieving my goals!), the stress actually makes the symptoms worse.
Not to mention the fact that unused cortisol (if there are no tigers to run from or I don’t walk it off quickly) gets stored as fat. Great. Talk about insults and injuries.
I bought a one-year subscription to MasterClass.com last Christmas because Halle Berry hosted a 90-minute “class” with interviews with several doctors and women going through menopause. Here I am two weeks before my subscription expires and I finally finished watching it and taking notes. There was a lot of good information in the class, but let me give you a few bullet points that fit with my topic of planning for peace.
So those four items are now on my list of tools I want to use to plan for peace in 2026. I have no idea what to expect next year. My brain seems to maybe be working better, but I’ve thought that in the past right before a new wave of menopause hell bowled me over. At least with these tools, I can get a few of the most important items done and choose to be satisfied with it, not stressing about what I can’t control.
I hope this is helpful for you as well! Whether you’re in need of this information or know someone you can share it with, it’s always good to have some reliable tools in your author — and life — toolkit. I hope you plan for a peaceful and joyful end of 2025 and that it spills over into all of 2026. God bless you! And Merry Christmas!
0 0 Read moreIt’s the holiday season and if you’re like me, you’re consumed with decorations, shopping and tying up ends. So I’m going to make this a brief post.
Two years ago, I published my first holiday novella. It’s a warm story about a mature couple discovering love unexpectedly. Here’s a little taste of holiday love.
_______________________
Holiday Boyfriend
VALERIE
I am still in awe at how a chance encounter in the elevator introduced me to a man who is everything I longed for and the opposite of what I was mourning. Looking back on my relationship with Stephen I see I didn’t pay attention to the signs. What’s that saying, ‘when people show you who they are, believe them.’ Stephen said he wasn’t ready for marriage, and I ignored him. The reality is, he was but not with me.
“I think we did a good job,” Christian said looking at the Christmas tree.
“I agree.” I sipped my wine. “I’m hungry.”
“Me too. What do you want to eat?”
“Hmmm…I don’t know. If you had asked me that before I met you, I would have probably said Thai or Greek.”
“Good options.”
“Yes, but you have exposed my taste buds and now I look at food differently.”
“Really.” He smiled and his eyes seemed to sparkle.
“So, I should probably ask, what do you have a taste for?”
He pulled me close. “You know that’s a loaded question.” He teased.
I playfully slapped his thigh and it felt like knocking wood. Christian was solid. “You know what I mean.”
“I know what you said.” His hands slid down and patted my behind.
I looked at him. “Keep it up and you’ll be getting coal in your stocking.”
“You are beautiful. I could feast on you all evening.” He crushed his mouth against mine and kissed me hard. I quickly gave in to the kiss and climbed onto his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck. He pushed his tongue inside my mouth and kissed me harder.
I was lost in the taste and feel of him. He eased his hands down, cupped my behind and pulled me closer. I felt him getting aroused as he kissed me harder.
Who was this woman making out like a teenager with a man she barely knew?
I broke the kiss, pulled back breathing hard. I opened my eyes and saw something I never saw in all the years I was with Stephen…passion and a future. How could that even be possible? I’ve only known Christian a short time. How could I have developed such strong feelings for him so quickly?
“I…I…” I tried to stand up, but he wouldn’t let go of me.
“What’s wrong?”
“This isn’t right.”
“We haven’t done anything, although I’m open.” He smiled.
“You’re shameless.” I smiled.
“I’m honest.” He gently kissed me. “I know we aren’t there, but I’m putting everything out there. Valerie, you’ve got me thinking and…”
“Is that a bad thing?” I teased.
“It could be.”
“I need food.”
“I need you in my life.”
“You’ve got me.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I told you I don’t want to do the distance thing.”
“What if things were different? What if I were here?”
“Don’t make changes based on a fling.”
“I told you, I know what I want and this…”
I crushed my mouth against his. I didn’t want to think about what he was suggesting…not right now.
____________
I should have known it was just a matter of time before Keisha found out about my secret holiday boyfriend. That’s what I called Christian. He laughed and said he was wearing me down.
Knock…Knock…Knock…
“Come in.” I looked up and saw my best friend of more than twenty years enter. “What’s going on?”
She walked forward and sat down in one of the chairs in front of my desk. “Gary said he didn’t know you were down with the swirl.”
“Excuse me.”
She crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair. “He said he didn’t know you were down with the swirl.”
“First of all, that doesn’t sound like Gary, but more like you. Second, what are you talking about?”
“Gary said he saw a woman who looked a lot like you a few days ago being very affectionate with a…how did he put it…a hot Santa.”
I smiled. “Gary is starting to sound a lot like you.”
“I got your shade.” She smiled. “Anyway, what’s going on? Was that your secret admirer?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, because when he saw everything…”
“What do you mean saw everything?”
“Last weekend he picked me up at the office and…”
“Interesting choice of words.”
I cringed. I knew what she was intimating. “What?”
“Is it true you picked him up in the elevator? And that you’ve spent almost every night the past two weeks together?”
“Seems Gary has been talking to Ethan.”
“No, it was Ivan.”
“Technically, it was a mutual pick up and yes, we’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
She scrolled through her contacts and pressed a number. “Ivan, hold all of Valerie’s calls…I’ll let you know…bye.”
“Did you just give my assistant…”
“That’s not important.”
“Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Name…marital status…kids…family… home base…career…”
“Christian Nichols…divorced…it ended because she cheated with his friend…no children…he’s an architect…he travels a lot for work which his ex didn’t like…he grew up in the city, but now he’s based in Portland.”
“Maine or Oregon?”
“Oregon. He’s in town to spend the holidays with his family.”
She looked at me like she was searching me for fingerprints or something. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I rubbed my forehead and exhaled. “He’s very charming and…the things he says.”
“What sort of things?”
“He said he knows what he wants, and what he wants includes me.”
She leaned forward and moved to the edge of the chair. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“He…the things he says are so…I don’t know if he’s being truthful or just playing with me.”
“What things?”
“I told him about Stephen and he said the breakup wasn’t my fault. That Stephen never intended or wanted anything permanent with me.” I dabbed at the corner of my eye. “Christian said I deserve more, and he wants to give it to me.”
“Whoa…uhm…what?”
“I told him I didn’t want to do the distance thing.”
“Millions of couples do the distance thing.”
“I know, but you were right.”
“About…”
“Romance…love. I thought I was too old for love, but I was wrong.”
“Uh-huh,” she replied with a smirk.
I tapped my fingers on the desk. “Spending time with Christian has woken me up. Call me selfish, but I want more from my man.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I don’t want him to be ashamed to be affectionate in public. Hold my hand, put his arm around me, hold me close or kiss me. Nothing obscene, but affectionate. If I’m feeling a little frisky, I want to roll over to his office or place and…”
“Based on what Gary said, I take it Christian has no problem being affectionate in private or public.”
“No. Our first kiss happened in the elevator.”
Her eyes got wide. “Excuse me. What did you say?”
“When he picked me up we were talking, and then he just crushed his mouth against mine. Girl, the way he kissed me…I have never been kissed like that. I felt it down to my toes…and his hands…uhmmm…the way he holds me is…it’s passionate…he’s…it’s like I’ve woken up and…I have to tell you, he is very difficult to resist.”
“Wow.”
“He’s very determined, but he scares me.”
“How?”
“I’ve only known him a couple of weeks, and he’s talking like we’ve been together much longer. Girl, he’s talking about the future, completely ignoring what I said about not wanting to do the distance thing. Even if I was good with the distance thing, it’s too soon to talk about the future.”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but how long were you with Stephen before he mentioned the future?”
“A couple of years, and I was the one who brought up the subject.”
“But after two weeks…”
“Our second date.”
Her mouth was as wide as her eyes. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Within the first seventy-two hours.”
“That right there is big baller talk.”
“What if it’s just talk?”
“I don’t know him, but based on what you’ve told me, I don’t think it is. Sounds like he’s serious.”
“He came over and helped me decorate my tree and apartment.” I smiled.
“I’m sorry, did you say he helped you with your tree?”
“Yes, after I helped him with some Christmas shopping, he came over and helped with my tree. Afterward, we ordered some food and made-out like teenagers. Girl, he’s very,” I sucked on the corner of my mouth. “Yeah, baby boy is uhm…”
“Valerie…Valerie…”
“I’m sorry. What was I saying?”
“You were reliving your youth on the sofa with Santa Hottie.”
“You went Christmas shopping…as a couple?”
I sat back with my arms folded across my chest. “Yep.”
“How old is he? Gary thinks he’s an old man trying to recapture his youth.”
“Tell Gary, he has nothing to worry about. He and I are in the same age neighborhood. He’s just prematurely grey.”
“Seems I’m going to have to find you another Christmas gift.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I told you I was getting you a man for Christmas.”
“You weren’t serious.”
“Yes, I was. I have an appointment with a matchmaker.”
“What…Keisha…cancel it.”
“Maybe I’ll keep it and use it for Ivan. I’m not a fan of that trick he’s been seeing.”
I shook my head, laughing. “You are too funny.”
“Back to you. I know it’s scary being with someone who knows what they want.”
“You’re right about that.”
“So, what about your secret admirer?”
“I still think it’s a vendor. When they reveal themselves, book an appointment.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“What if it turns out to be an admirer?”
“Trust me, this isn’t the romantic fairytale you and everyone is hoping for.”

I’ve always been one of those people who’s trying to get more done, looking for ways to be more efficient so I can do more in the same amount of time. I even taught a time management class for writers for over ten years, sharing everything I learned so people could try new ways to get more writing done. It worked delightfully well for me for years.
Until it didn’t.
Stress and burnout and perimenopause collided a few years ago, and it felt like I got hit by a train. I struggled to get writing work done while I tried to realign my health. Now on a good day, I’m working for 4-6 hours (down from 10-14 five years ago); a bad day might give me 30 minutes. It can be depressing, and that adds to the stress, which messes with my hormones, which clouds my brain even more.
But I’m still the same Kitty, wanting to share what I learn so that I can help others. So I’m writing two nonfiction books right now. One is on perimenopause and menopause for writers. I’m taking everything I’ve learned and all my resources and compiling it all, aimed at writers. I’d love to add more stories from other women writers who have gone through mental and physical health issues, especially related to menopause. Please contact me if you’d like to share your story (kitty at kittybucholtz dot com, and put “Menopause for Writers” in the subject line).
The other book is called Going the Distance: Time and Project Management for Writers. I’ve taken ten years’ worth of my lectures and broken them down into the core elements, and then I’m updating all of the material as well as adding new tips. I’ll start blogging about it soon, but I just finished the outline and I wanted to share it with you.
The 10-chapter book will include the following topics:
If this sounds interesting and helpful to you, let me know! In my post here in December, I’ll start sharing some of my tips and ideas so you can plan for a good writing year in 2026. It’ll be worth it!
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At the chiming of eleven bells, the retreat’s evening session began. Squeezed around the table, six people scooted chairs until no one brushed up against anyone else. The room’s reddish glow came from a candelabra on a nearby shelf, and the air hung thick with cedar incense.

Jana coughed into her hand and took side glances at the five others. Duvan, whose laughter burst out at the oddest moments; Metrie, whose face was as pale as the ivory cloth that covered the table; Tartas, who kept shifting among her multiple forms so that Jana wasn’t exactly sure who she was at any moment, and two others, whose names and peculiarities she couldn’t recall.
“This meeting, on Allhallows Eve, marks the time of year when we can at last show our true faces,” Metrie intoned, her voice just above a whisper. Somewhere in the darkened room came the slow ticking of a clock. “Place both your hands on the table, and please remain silent.”
Palms down, Jana let her gaze rove, careful not to engage with anyone. She had heard that one of the five—four, if she didn’t count Metrie, the leader—was a transformed cryptid. More precisely, the Pocono Polecat. Research had pointed her to this Pennsylvania gathering, on this night, when transformers slipped however briefly into their original shape.
A tiny camera, attached as a bead to her necklace, would capture the change when it happened. She hoped. Then she’d have the proof needed for the article she was writing for The Cryptozoologist.
Metrie recited a prayer in an ancient language filled with hard glottal stops and velar clicks. A breath exhaled through the room, bringing with it a rank smell that wrinkled Jana’s nose.
Polecat.
The seat where the black-haired woman wrapped in a white shawl had been sitting was now filled with a human-sized black-furred mammal, a thin white stripe down its nose. It laid its two long, sharp claws on the table.
“Welcome, Shkak,” Metrie said, in English. Duvan exploded in laughter, and Tartas blinked through three form changes in as many seconds. The sixth person at the table, the one with close-cropped hair the color of burnt leaves, collapsed off their chair with a moan.
Jana felt her necklace, rubbing a finger next to the embedded camera, hoping it had recorded what she needed. In response, Shkak bared her teeth at Jana, who gasped. The stomach-turning stench overwhelmed the smoke of the cedar incense.
“You’re real,” Jana croaked, trying and failing to hold her breath. Duvan and Tartas fled the room.
“Of course, she’s real,” Metrie scoffed. She held a lace handkerchief over her nose. “Be careful what you ask for.”
A low-pitched rumble vibrated the table as Shkak stared at Jana. It had to be a growl. The polecat’s claws tore through the table covering, making long slashes.
Covering her mouth and nose with her hands, Jana dropped her gaze. “I’m so glad to meet you … as yourself.” Taking a breath and holding it, she dug out her cell phone, opened her camera app, and turned to Metrie. “Can you snap a photo of the two of us?”
Shkak rose to her full height.
Metrie smiled and put her hand out to take the phone. “Be glad to.” She added, “You do realize that polecats are omnivores, not herbivores, right?”
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✧༺♥༻∞Retelling of a classic with a Happily Ever After! ∞༺♥༻✧
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More info →A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
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