Introducing Debbie Christiana And Her New Release-Twin Flames

I had the distinct pleasure of spending time at the Romance Writers of America  convention this year with Debbie, whose first book,Twin Flames, just came out with Black Opal Books. Her energy and enthusiasm for writing is infectious, and I truly enjoyed the luncheons and the RITA/Golden Heart Award Ceremony more while sitting with her and fellow members of the Connecticut and Lower New York Chapter of RWA.

Kindred spirits often find each other. Debbie grew up in a big Italian family, like me. We were both avid readers as children, and we both typed on a manual typewriter. Her mother gave her a book on reincarnation, mine borrowed from some of the old Italian legends of La Strega.

Fast forward a few years. You all know I write about witches, ghosts, and reincarnation. Debbie, tell us a little about your writing and about Twin Flames.

My stories were about unexplained events, ghosts and skeletons and my newfound favorite subject, past lives. Not much has changed. Although, I’m happy to say my stories now have sinfully sexy men and hopefully, are much more interesting.

Twin Flames is a reincarnation story about two soul mates, which have been together for thousands of years and hundreds of lifetimes.  This incarnation doesn’t go too smoothly and helping them conquer an obstacle or two is a playful ghost from their past.

The last thing forty-year old Natalia Santagario expected was to be sitting on a Manhattan barstool ogling a man she’s never met, but swears she knows.

The mysterious dark-haired woman at the end of the bar stops twenty-eight year old Marc Tremonti in his tracks. His head assures him she’s a stranger, but his heart tells him otherwise.


Their attraction instant and enigmatic, they undergo past life regression and discover that, not only have they spent hundreds of lives together as lovers, Natalia holds the secret to Marc’s puzzling birthmark.


But what should have been a joyful reunion is complicated by a kind, albeit confused, almost ex-wife, a bout of temporary amnesia and a mischievous ghost from their past. 

What else could possibly go wrong?

Sounds like a great story. What else are you working on now? Do you have an excerpt posted, and where can readers find the format they're most interested in?

All the links are on my website, and it's available in ebook and print. My Facebook page is also a good way to keep in touch.

What are you working on now, Debbie?

My WIP Solstice, is about Armend, an Albanian witch with a two hundred and fifty year old curse on his head.  Is Sofia, the powerful Sicilian Strega, the one who can save him? Time is running out and they have to break the curse by Armend’s thirtieth birthday, the winter solstice.  Their quest takes them from New York, to Sicily, to Albania, all the while pursued by a vengeful witch who wants them dead.

Debbie, you and I share something else: we both work in human and social services. 

Yes, when I’m not reading or writing, I run a medium size food pantry in Connecticut. We serve between about 600-800 families per month. I have a wonderful group of volunteers, forty-two to be exact. They are people I work with, but more importantly, they are my friends and I couldn’t do it without them.

Good luck with all your projects, Debbie. Can you share a little excerpt of Twin Flames with us?

Sure. Here goes:

With a hot cup of coffee and a donut in hand, Natalia and her two friends boarded a train for the hour ride to New York City. Grand Central Terminal was jammed with people, most of whom were watching a holiday light show flashing onto the ceiling. Having seen it plenty of times, the three women worked their way through the massive crowd on to Forty-Second Street. After taking in the obligatory holiday sights, the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, and a quick stroll down Fifth Avenue, they were ready to move on. They hopped on the subway to Christopher Street in the Village to their favorite out of the way stores for a day of shopping.

“Nat, are you almost ready?” Ellie asked.

“Yeah, and I’m hungry.”

“Should we take Nat to that Italian restaurant we found last time?” Christine asked.

“Sure,” Ellie said. “Want to try it, Nat?”

“Do you both think with a name like Natalia Santagario I don’t get enough Italian food? I was hoping for a big juicy steak and bottle of red wine.”

“I guess we could have steak, but this place is really good. Plus all the waiters are cute.”

“You’re both married,” said Natalia.

“But you’re not,” Christine said, pointing a finger at her.

“Whatever. I don’t care. I’m starving. Let’s go.”

A crowded subway ride later, they arrived at Tremonti’s restaurant on West Fifty-Fourth Street.

Before they went inside, Natalia stopped her two friends. “Thank you,” she said. “I really needed this. I’m glad you kept harassing me about coming with you.”

“We told you so,” said Ellie with a smile.

As they entered the restaurant, they were swallowed by a crowd of shoppers, tourists, and people reveling in the holiday season. Sandwiched between her friends and the other hungry inhabitants of the restaurant, Natalia couldn’t help but notice the wonderful aromas swirling around the room. For a moment, she was a little girl in her grandmother’s Brooklyn apartment, having Sunday dinner.

As she inhaled once more, a strange sensation took hold of her. Her body temperature seemed to shoot to a hundred degrees. Sweat formed on her brow. Light headed, she could feel the color drain from her face.

“Nat, what’s wrong?” Christine asked, resting her hand on Natalia’s shoulder. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

No, I’m used to seeing ghosts. “I’m fine. It’s hot in here, that’s all. Let’s try to work our way to the bar so I can get some water.”

They started to push their way through the crowd when Natalia felt Ellie take her hand. “Hurry, those people are getting up."

No sooner had they hopped up on their barstools than a young waiter appeared.

“What can I get you ladies this evening?”

“Hi,” said Natalia. “I would love a glass of wa—” She sat completely still, staring past the waiter.

“We’ll have three glasses of Merlot, please,” Christine chimed in. “Could you bring my friend some water? She isn’t feeling well.”


“Sure,” the young man said and left.

“Nat, what are you looking at?” Christine asked.

“The man over there making drinks,” she said, pointing to the side of the bar.

“Looking? Ogling is more like it,” scoffed Ellie. “She’s practically drooling.”

“I know him from somewhere,” Natalia said.

“His back is to us. You can’t see his face.”

“I don’t need to see his face.”

Having no logical answers to give them, Natalia ignored the rest of her friend’s questions and continued to watch the fascinating man behind the bar. He was tall with broad shoulders and dark curly hair. His sleeves were rolled up, his strong arms and hands visible. He was good at his job. Quickly dipping his hand in the ice and dropping the cubes into the glasses, he had three drinks made in a just few moments.

Then something changed.


Wow! Too bad nothing like that happened when we were battling the crowds on 42nd Street to get some lunch last June. Thanks for sharing, Debbie!