A NEW FAMILY FOR CHRISTMAS
She Rescued A Child & Gained A Husband
Anastasia has always loved to bake cookies. She has become an expert and now runs an exclusive cookie shop which holds real treasures. However, the one treasure she has always longed for which eludes her is a family of her own. When she loses a lazy employee, she finds herself faced with a princess and a fairytale king which seem to answer her prayers. Her happiness seems complete when Stasia finally has a daughter and a husband.
However, the marriage is arranged and although her husband loves his daughter Cara, Anastasia herself seems to leave him altogether cold. But then he returns home one day with a few bruises and tempers heat up by several degrees. In the end, Anastasia is willing to give up the reality of her entire life in order to safe her fake family from utter destruction.
A move seems imminent, but her husband Duke is not so easily convinced.
Creation of The Book
This romantic story found its way into existence in the summer. I think it was on Facebook where I first saw the link to this amazing young woman who made an art – and a living – out of decorating cookies. It was amazing to see her practice her craft. She was so skilled at doing this and the results were breathtaking.
This led me to think of my daughter Tarjani who had a phase in which she loved to bake cakes and cookies. And cookies reminded me of Christmas, Tarjani’s face in front of my inner eye reminded me of an angel, and this in turn of younger children. And thus, suddenly, the story took form in my mind. The lady who loved to bake and was a true artisan at her craft, the little girl who looked like a princess and the strong warrior who somehow found his way into the cookie shop with his little angel daughter.
The question of why they would not only enter the shop but stay there long enough for the adults to fall in love and the cookie lady and little girl to bond, I answered with nearly dropping my phone and somehow music went on because I must have touched the player button. Lenny Kravitz roared “Always on the run!” and thus, it was decided! The father and child were on the run and Miss Cookie Lady would take them in and protect them.
And when I looked at my mum who walked in at that moment, I had a reason why the two were on the run as well – and I have to admit that my mother never found out that she was the inspiration for the villains of the story – which were horrid grandparents who were trying to take the child away from her father and were not nice to the little girl at all. But as they were rich and influential, they had some leverage. And thus, the story unfolded in my head, while I was typing furiously to keep up with the inner cinematography that is my creative process.
So if you ever wonder, how Christmas can enter the mind of an author during a summer holiday, you now have the answer. This is what happened and why it was published on 21st July 2016.
A New Family for Christmas is one of the more romantic and less erotic ones, but it is heart-touching and has its own unique charm, as all my books have. I don’t like to write by one formula and use this repeatedly until it becomes generic. I like to try out new things, visit new places and incorporate new ideas. I develop as an author, as much as I develop as a person. Each of my books are unique and each one holds a special place in my heart, each has a unique story behind the story. This is the one for A NEW FAMILY FOR CHRISTMAS.
“Oh look, daddy! The cookies are beautiful!”
The beautiful little princess pressed her nose against the window of the shop where the cookies lay on display right behind the glass. There were cookies with Santa, reindeers, a kind of Wedgwood china design and many more. The decoration was indeed intricate and the artisan having crafted them had to be exceptionally skilled.
“Yes, they are very nice, darling. Come on now, we have to get to the shelter,” her father said, feeling terribly ashamed as he spoke the words.
“I want one, daddy!”
The little cappuccino coloured face turned up to her father’s as the girl looked at him hopefully.
“Maybe next year, my love,” her dad answered as his heart was stabbed in its core.
The door opened and a young woman stormed out.
“Karen, you can’t leave now! Not in the middle of the festive season! Come back here at once!”
“No,” the young woman called Karen shouted back into the shop. “I’ve had it with you and your pernicketiness!”
“That’s not even a word!”
“See! Exactly!” Karen shouted and started off down the street.
“You don’t know what quality means if it hit you in the face,” a woman shouted after her.
She was now stepping out of the shop. Her hair was tied in a clean, tidy bun at the nape of her neck, she wore Christmas decoration in it which made her look like an elf or some other creature associated with Christmas. On her head sprouted reindeer antlers made from felt. She was older than Karen, maybe in her mid-thirties. Her blue eyes shot darts of rage at the younger woman’s back walking down the road.
“You’re still wearing my apron!” she called now.
Karen stopped in her tracks, tore the apron off and tossed it to the ground. Then she walked on again in a gait that was proof of her barely contained anger.
The little girl’s father walked after her and picked up the apron. He dusted it off carefully and returned, handing it back to the shop’s proprietor. He expected a look of disgust from this very clean woman. No one liked grubby, smelly homeless people and this woman was working with food. Cleanliness would be a major priority for her.
“Thank you, Sir,” she answered when she took the offered apron from his hands.
There was nothing but kindness and gratitude in her eyes now. Not even pity. When had been the last time anyone had called him “Sir”? He couldn’t remember, but it felt good. Way too good for a scruffy man like him. Had he still deserved to be called thus, he wondered?
He nodded at her and smiled politely, holding her eyes. Not good. She would remember him now. He shouldn’t look into people’s eyes. They were more likely to recall his face when he did. He quickly lowered his eyes again and smiled at his daughter instead who stood behind the woman.
“Come on, princess, we have to hurry,” he said quietly, trying hard not to look at the woman again.
By God, it was difficult not to. Even in his days of service, a woman like her would have been a special shot and he’d had women throwing themselves at his feet to spend a night with him. He hadn’t looked at them, however. He’d been married and he’d always taken his vows seriously.
“Yes, daddy,” the little girl said, knowing this wasn’t the time to argue.
Not in front of a stranger. Her father had drummed into her that they couldn’t draw attention to themselves. People would remember and someone might report them.
“Wait. Is this your daughter?” the woman asked, looking at the child now.