From the USA Today bestselling
author comes a gripping new emotional WW2 historical novel. Inspired by a true
story!
'A moving story of a mother's
love battling against the determination of the Reich to create a pure Aryan
race…A recommended read' Glynis Peters
'An intensely moving,
brilliantly researched novel about love, loss, and the lengths a mother will go
to for her child…utterly compelling' Deborah Carr
Rumours of
the Nazis coming for Czech children swept through the villages like a breeze
through the trees, and the story was always the same…
They wanted
our children to raise as their own
Since her husband, Josef, joined
the Czech resistance three years ago, Anna Dankova has done everything possible
to keep her daughter, Ema, safe. But when blonde haired, blue-eyed Ema is
ripped from her mother’s arms in the local marketplace by the dreaded Brown
Sisters, nurses who were dedicated to Hitler’s cause, Anna is forced to go to
new extremes to take back what the Nazis have stolen from her.
Going undercover as a devoted German
subject eager to prove her worth to the Reich, the former actress takes on a
role of a lifetime to find and save her daughter. But getting close to Ema is
one thing. Convincing her that the Germans are lying when they claim Anna stole
her from her true parents is another…
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Below is the prologue to A Child for the Reich:
The clock above the mantle ticked, ticked, ticked. Greta
Strohm never thought this day would come. She pressed her
forehead to the warm window glass in her parlor, closing her eyes, trying to
calm herself and have faith in the plan by thinking about her new baby’s soft
and shiny blonde hair.
Greta had spent weeks preparing the nursery, needling the
baby quilts herself using the finest German wool available. She had made so
many, more than one child could ever use. Soft cottony jumpers had been set out
only to be refolded and tucked inside vanilla-scented drawers. Paintings of
traditionally dressed children dancing in meadows had been hung with the most
meticulous of hands. Glass canisters of talc, sponges for the bath, and baby
rattles that had arrived just that morning were placed perfectly on the shelf.
It was, she had told herself, a nursery to die for.
Her eyes sprung open with her chiming clock, announcing the
top of the hour. She blindly adjusted her wristwatch. They should be here. She paced her carpets, rolling her hands
nervously while thinking about all the lies she’d told, when she heard the pop
and grind of tires creeping up the gravel road to her estate.
Greta yanked the curtains aside—there was no going back now.
The car had parked, and she watched with anticipation as the driver opened his
door. She saw the nurse’s shadowy silhouette in the back seat, holding her new
baby in her arms.
Greta took a moment to collect herself at the front door,
padding her perspiring forehead and fanning her neck. She had a reputation to
uphold, after all. She was the wife of Ludwig Strohm, a known member of the
Party, and nobody should ever see her unkempt. She placed her hand on the doorknob,
fingers curling, taking a deep breath through her nose before opening the door.
The nurse breezed into her home, face aglow and smiling with
the baby bundled in her arms. “Frau Strohm, your new son.”
Greta scooped him into her arms, breath lumped in her chest,
which she wasn’t prepared for, though she should have expected it. The nurse
carried on talking about how she should care for him, setting down the bag
she’d brought with all his baby things, but Greta didn’t have any use for such
talk. She kissed the baby’s tiny fingers and all her nerves dissolved.
The nurse pulled a baby bottle from the bag along with a few
small towels for burping, before pulling out a book, which she placed on the
side table. “We ask all our adoptive parents to follow Johanna Haarer’s guide
to mothering…” She reached for the baby with grabbing hands.
“I’m quite all right,” Greta said, waving the nurse away.
“You can leave.”
The nurse seemed caught off guard with this abrupt
dismissal, looking at Frau Strohm with a furrowed brow before scanning the
parlor and asking about her husband, but Greta ignored her, kissing the air
above her baby’s face as he cooed.
The nurse’s lips pursed. “Very well.” She clicked her heels
once and left out the front door.
Greta buried her nose into the crook of the baby’s neck,
breathing deeply, getting lost in the feel of his incredibly soft skin, when
she felt something crackle in her hand, something tucked in with the baby.
This wasn’t part of her plan, the one she had so carefully
worked over and over in her mind a thousand times. The car outside had started
up and was now circling the fountain to leave the estate, stirring up a plume
of caramel-colored dust and rock, and although Greta couldn’t be sure, she
thought the nurse was staring at her, studying her through the fog.
Greta laid the baby down on the divan and unwrapped him from
the blanket. He fussed once she’d completely uncovered him, throwing his chubby
legs out in her parlor, stiff as boards, just as she pulled a note out from
behind his back. She stared at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand, trying
to ignore the sickening feeling of dread before unfolding it.
“No…” she said as she read, glancing at the nurse driving
away and then to the note. “Lord, no—” Her legs gave out, and the baby wailed
beside her as she collapsed to the divan.
The message was clear, distinct, and meant only for her.
I know your secret.
Andie Newton is the USA Today bestselling author of The
Girls from the Beach, The Girl from Vichy, and The Girl I Left Behind.
She writes gritty and emotional war stories about strong women. Andie holds a bachelor's degree in history and a master's in teaching. She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, her two boys, and one very lazy cat.
Twitter: @AndieNewton
Instagram: andienewtonauthor
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