“I think we should start communicating with someone about the things my daughter sees.”

For those who don’t know yet: I’m writing. Often. At the age of twenty-six, I submitted my first novel to a publisher, and from then on things went quickly, with a book coming out almost every year. Even when the children came, I did not stop writing. It brought relaxation and peace and soon became a sort of second job, next to my work in education. I am now writing for the publisher De Fontein (known to most parents, for example, from the books of Roald Dahl and loser’s life/Diary of a loser books) in it Romantic suspenseGenre, which means that they are thrillers with a bit of romance. After all, I think writing about love never gets boring, especially when paired with a good dose of tension. appeared last year Watchman (under the authors name Elaine Lena) and will be published in 2023 Stockholm Syndrome.

Last summer Cake Mama asked me if I’d like to write an exciting short story for this year’s Winter Book. Subject: winter. Of course I said yes to this and since last week the Kek Winter book has been in stores. I am very proud of that and would like to take you through the first part of the story. Enjoy!

It’s an explosive mess on the bed. A jumble of winter sports gear I just pulled from behind a screen in the attic. Heck, I got the idea that the kids would still be wearing ski suits, but that’s way too small, and since we’re driving tonight, there’s no time to buy anything else. It’s strange how I can put myself down after thirty-two years.

The loud ringtone on my phone startles me and I look at the screen. I answer reluctantly.

“Is everything under control?” She’s my mother, just when I want to scream out loud in frustration because I have absolutely nothing under control.

‘yes. completely.’ I have a phone between my ear and shoulder and put my teensy ski clothes in the pockets.

“You’re lying, Sarah.”

“It’s just a lot after this last week at work. After this last day at work I’m correcting myself.

It is an understatement of the century. This afternoon—after a full day with thirty babies on the run—I had another dreadful meeting with my father. Then we had the obligatory Christmas drink until half past five. On the way back, my Volvo – to top it all off – got hit hard at a traffic light. Bottom line: bumper and tailgate dent mess. As if you were waiting for it when the ski boot is already attached to the roof.

“You should have started packing much earlier.”

I heave a sigh of relief. She’s right, mom, but that’s the last thing you want to hear when things are completely off.

I know, I obediently replied. “But no one is as organized as you are. You always have everything in neat piles three weeks in advance.

“If only I had learned anything from her, wouldn’t you, my dear?”

“I miss this gene.”

Should I come to help? Where is Daniel?

“With the car in the garage because of the dent and bump, remember?”


‘Looks like they’re busy or something isn’t working. No idea.’ I’m carrying a pulli, my troll friend. Have any of the girls ever worn that? I can’t imagine it. ‘Coming soon.'”

“Have you got kids yet?”

‘Just. Emma saw things again.

“Oh, what next?”

“She was talking about a guy in a green trench coat in the snow, I have no clue. I think we should get in touch with someone about the things she’s seeing. It freaks me out.”

“Is she asleep now?”

“I hope so, I haven’t heard from her in a while.”

“Your child is a gift.”

At that moment, a howling was heard from Raines’ room. I turn my eyes. You should also not shout loudly that your children are asleep.

Raines also has a gift. He always wakes up when I tell him he’s asleep. I’ll call you when I’m quiet later, okay? There is still much to be done.

It’s okay, my dear. Don’t be late, eh?

‘I’m trying. Doge. I hang up and try to call Daniel, but of course he doesn’t answer.

In fact, I don’t think that winter sports with three children aged six, four and one are very successful, especially when we are all so exhausted. Relaxing isn’t an option on a vacation like this, but I’m not the type to put my kids in a hotel shelter and go up the mountain myself. Daniel, on the other hand, wears his skates and is there all week, what the kids and I do is up to us.

In fact, he’s a complete fool.

I sigh deeply and contemplate the misery on the bed. Let me try on some pants, maybe that will cheer me up a bit. The red one I think was the biggest, let me start with that.

I take off my pajama pants and put on my red ski pants, but they don’t go much further than my thighs. I sink into the armchair beside the bed and stare blankly forward. another down.

An hour later I’m still there. It’s almost 11:30 now, Daniel is still out, and I’m in a position to cancel the whole damn vacation…

Read more? Kek Mama’s Winter Book is now in stores!

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