Monday 12 December 2022

A Child for the Reich by Andie Newton (book extract)

 

historical fiction set during WWII

I'm thrilled to welcome Andie Newton to my blog today. 


A Child for the Reich

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…

 

Purchase Links

HarperCollins US: https://bit.ly/3xJUXdD

HarperCollins UK: https://bit.ly/3dAADVe

 

UK retailers:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3qWMQ9W

Kobo:  https://bit.ly/3LCjSpa

Apple: https://apple.co/3S7zPX9

 

US retailers:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3feRMUQ

Kobo: https://bit.ly/3f4sNUd

Apple: https://apple.co/3faOrX7

Barnes and Noble: https://bit.ly/3eZZoum

 

GOODREADS: https://bit.ly/3DI0i99

BOOKBUB: https://bit.ly/3C31iDu


Author Bio –

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.

You can find book club discussion questions on andienewton.com.




 

Social Media Links –

Twitter: @AndieNewton

FB: Andie Newton Author Page

Instagram: andienewtonauthor

Publisher Socials:

Twitter: @OneMoreChapter_ @Harper360

Instagram: @onemorechapterhc  @harpercollins360

Website: http://andienewton.com/



Below is an extract from A Child for the Reich. The Brown Sisters, nurses sympathetic to the Reich’s cause, are in town searching for Aryan-looking children to kidnap and take back to Germany to raise as their own. Sisters Anna and Dasa are moving their children from one house to the other, under the cover of night so that nobody can see them. The sisters have a secret they are hiding from the children, though they are starting to figure out something is going on.

 

Extract:

 

We waited until dusk before sneaking over to my house, through Dasa’s brown pasture where nobody from the road would see us with the children. Matka didn’t like having to change beds, but she wasn’t about to stay at Dasa’s now that the Reich had visited it.

“There will be more dead Germans by daybreak if I stay at that house,” Matka said. “And as for you, Dasa. You’ll confess to God. We can go to a church and make it official in the sanctuary,” Matka said. “He’ll understand because she was a devil. When the signs are right.”

“You can’t have it both ways, Matka,” I said. “You can’t be religious yet lead your life by signs and omens and fairy tales.”

“Yes,” she said. “I can. It’s who we are, Anna.”

“I’ll tell you who we are, Matka. We’re a family of secrets, and this is just another secret we’ll have to keep.” I reached out to pet the baby’s head in Dasa’s arms. “There’s so many now…”

Knowing German was the mildest secret we kept, and the baby so far was relatively easy to hide from the villagers. Our husbands’ fates were our biggest lies. Matka had taken her wedding band off, thinking someone would kill her for it, but I kept my wedding band on. Rumor had spread that my husband was working in Prague, when in fact he’d fled for the Czech Resistance. It was the lucky break I needed to keep the German men away from my land, but things were harder for Dasa. To qualify for assistance, she’d told the New Town Hall her husband had died, and it was to her detriment. Ever since, more and more of her pasture had been eaten up by German landowners, taking what they wanted.

We led the children into my cellar, walking down the rickety wooden stairs with Ema half asleep in my arms.

She roused when I went to lay her down. “Where are you going?” Ema asked.

“Aunt Dasa and I are going to sow some seeds tonight. The moon is right for planting, all the signs are there.”

“That’s right,” Dasa said as she made up beds for her girls with blankets and hay we used for insulation—Brigita with the biggest blanket, and her two other girls sharing one. “You know how the best planting happens during the night.” “Yes,” Ema said, sweetly.

These were stories we told ourselves. Stories we’d been brought up on. All good Czech families had their stories.

“But how come I can’t sleep in my own bed?” Ema asked.

“Ah, sweet girl,” I said, “you ask too many questions.” I tucked her into her new bed. “It’s just for tonight.” Ema sucked her thumb, looking up at me from the floor. “Kisses,” I said, and she pulled her thumb away so I could kiss her cheek.

“But you didn’t finish the story,” she said, reaching for me, and I kissed her once more.

Matka brought down Ema’s old baby basket, and we placed Dasa’s young son into it, blankets wrapped around him, unknowing what despicable deed his mama and I were about to go off and do. I lit a few candles in jars and placed them on the shelf. Brigita watched us looking at the baby, and Dasa snapped for her to roll over and go to sleep.

“I’m scared,” Brigita said after she pulled the blanket over her head. “Something isn’t right. Both of you, Aunt Anna,

Mama…”

Dasa kissed her daughter’s head through the blanket, giving her a squeeze, before following Matka up the stairs without another word.

“Mama,” Ema said from the covers, hands grabbing at the air between us. “The story. Lay down…”

Candlelight flickered between us. “Scoot over,” I said, and she made room for me on the floor. Dasa waved impatiently for me at the top of the stairs, but Dasa would have to wait. The Brown Sister would have to wait. Right now, Ema needed me.

I lay down.

Ema played with my fingers, the candlelight dancing over her little cheeks and glistening in her eyes. “Now, what story did you want to hear?” I asked, and she swiftly answered.

“The one about the actress in Prague.” “Oh yes, the woman from Prague.” I brushed a wisp of hair from her eyes.

“Tell me how pretty she was. Tell me about the prince.”

I kissed her hand, thinking up ways I could tell her about her father and me, ways a child would understand. “When her prince first saw her, it wasn’t the makeup he noticed, the fancy dress, or the jewelry that glittered around her wrists and neck.”

“It wasn’t?” she asked.

“He noticed her eyes. Looked right through them as if he could see her soul—as if he knew her soul—but how could he? He’d never met her before. And that’s what it’s like when love strikes. There’s a connection. Like me and you.” I snuggled her close. “We didn’t know each other before you were born, but we loved each other instantly.”

“I love you, Mama,” she said, and I kissed her cheek when she threw her arms around my neck for a hug. “Did they get married?”

“They did,” I said. “And it was the most beautiful wedding in all of Prague. An evening wedding under the stars. And they danced and danced and danced, and he told her he’d never leave her side, and she believed him because he was her love.”

I stared off into the gloomy cellar, remembering the champagne, the cheers, and the toasts from our families. Everything in the world seemed possible that night—a fairytale start.

“Was the devil there?” Ema asked.

“The devil?”

“Every story has a devil in it,” she said, and my eyes welled with tears, remembering all that had gone wrong since.

“The devil showed up after the wedding.” I pressed her fingers to my lips. “But that part of the story will have to wait for another night.”

She rolled over and sucked her thumb. Josef would have hated her sucking her thumb at five years old, but it was a comfort to her, and I let her do it.

I took hold of the light string, pausing, looking at our children sleeping on the cellar floor, in that dank and dark place where no children should ever sleep. “Damn you, Josef, for leaving me,” I whispered into the air, and I pulled on the light string.


Chez Maximka, books set during WWII


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