After years of poverty, heartbreak, loss and betrayal, Tomas enters Annalise’s world and shatters the iron casing she’s erected around her heart. Tomas is kind, intelligent, romantic and handsome, but he’s also her husband’s brother!
Once Tomas and Annalise meet, they are forever intertwined and repeatedly ripped apart by fate, self-doubt and blackmail. Her husband, Jens, is a brilliant, jealous and manipulative scoundrel who keeps her psychologically under lock and key, until her passion for Tomas sets her free.
Targeted Age Group:: Adults
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
Loving Annalise is based on a true story. A nurse from Austria, that I used to work with at hospice told me one day that her husband was her ex-husband’s brother and I asked how they came about. Her story became increasingly interesting, with many twists and turns. She agreed to be interviewed at length, and the interviews inspired me to write this work of fiction.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Though the names have been changed, the character’s in Loving Annalise are all real people (living and dead). I learned about each of them through the real-life protagonist and worked on their personalities and characteristics from their.
Book Sample
His soft fingertips lightly scratched the skin as they moved towards the base of my spine, lighting a torch that licked my groin from the inside out, filling my body with the heat of the sun. The snow melted on the window with single-minded rapture at its release from solidity. My hands pulled his hips to me with an urgency and excitement I couldn’t control. I heard the snow’s remnants meet the porch as the bed creaked and moaned. My mind slipped into a bewitched state of clarity. This was raw sensation; this was joy incarnate.
As my legs wrapped him tightly into my cocoon, I knew that unless death came calling, we’d transformed our separate selves into a creature united by love, lust and marriage. The man I’d hungered after for eighteen years was filling my body with every pore of his existence. I heard a voice rise from my gut, screaming, “Tomas! Tomas!” My body shook and jerked on the wet sheet with gale-force winds. The muscles undulated and contracted from my toes to the crown of my head. The candles danced, and my back arched towards an invisible force. I was conscious of nothing and everything; bathing in a river of sex, I swam in its smell, sight, sound, taste and touch.
His wavy brown hair was a mess, and his chocolate-brown eyes were filled with such wonderment and love that I couldn’t stop smiling. Somehow, the blanket found its way up to cover our bodies from the winter air.
The room was humid, full of heat and moisture. His eyelids closed ever so slightly. Time waded in and swept him into the river of sleep. He looked like an angel preparing to dive as he stretched his handsome, hard body to its full length with a sigh. I kissed him gently on the lips, rested my head on his chest, and gazed at the snow waltzing past the window of our honeymoon cabin in the Colorado Rockies. The snow reminded me of a childhood long gone.
If, as a child, I’d known what pain Tomas and I would endure to get this far, I might have entered a convent.
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