She always believed she was born in the wrong time period, but since she doesn’t have access to a time machine she must write and read intriguing stories of the past.
Did you know that Berlin Butterfly: Ensnare recently won Honorable Mention for Historical Fiction in the Reader’s Favorite International Book Contest? Check it out!
Treachery, heartache, and loneliness led Ella Kühn to take her first drink of alcohol ten years ago. When the delusions begin, images from her past threaten to challenge her state of mind. Ironically, the very thing that haunts her, is the thing that has kept her alive—the butterfly tattoo covering the gunshot wound to her right shoulder. It’s physical and emotional reminder not only symbolizes her courage, but also signifies Stefan’s absence . . . which now spans twelve years.
It’s 1983 in the Deutsch Democratic Republic. Trust remains a fragile ally as the Communist Bloc begins to crumble. Ella’s involvement in the rising opposition and underground punk movement, puts her more at risk than any escape plan ever could. She is followed, watched and hunted . . . but by whom? An old enemy? The Secret Police? Or her new employer?
In Release, the third and final installment of the Berlin Butterfly Series, Ella battles her inner demons as she struggles to survive the ever-growing darkness in the East. Will she regain her former strength and find a way to flee to the thinning borders of Czechoslovakia and join Anton and Josef? Or will ties to her precarious past keep her bound—her only release found in the freedom of pain and guilt while embracing life without her family in East Berlin?
Snippet From Ensnare:
Bam! Bam! Bam! The heavy pounding launched me flat to the floor. Face down, I realized I’d done exactly what I had meant not to do— fall asleep. I rubbed my eyes and attempted to comprehend what was happening. They were blurry and strained. I heard another loud thud splinter the door as someone busted through. I leapt to my feet the very moment I heard the crunch of glass under heavy boots. They came in like I imagine a herd of wild animals would, how many I did not know. I no longer had time to get to the kitchen window as planned.
Their inability to be discreet allowed enough coverage for my brazen dash to the bedroom closet. It was the only place I’d possibly have a chance to hide. I maneuvered to the far corner with only a few of Mama’s dresses for cover. I smashed against the wall as closely as possible and pulled a long trench coat in front to make it appear as if it was the last item on the rack. A pair of winter boots was pushed forward to hide my feet. My toes curled tightly in the confined space behind them.
The brutes did not seem to mind that their audacious duty came without restraint or consideration for anyone or anything. The sound of furniture upheaved, and dishes broken amplified with each passing second.
I was fully awake now, struggling to calm my surging breath. I cringed at the thought they would find my small collection of belongings near the back window. This included all the Mark I had, yet I knew right now the money was the least of my problems. If they found me, I could be arrested or face far worse consequences. I’d heard stories of young women found at the hands of crazed, irrational soldiers. I had risked everything by staying in the flat.
Someone entered the bedroom and proceeded to flip the bed. If he touched it, he would have felt the warmth my body heat left against the blanket. It didn’t sound as though he had. Another man entered, and they talked about possible hiding places for valuables. The harder I pressed against the inner wall, the more I lost feeling in my limbs. I prayed they would not come over to the closet. It was useless. I knew they would check even before I heard the footsteps turn my direction.