検索キーワード： 著者 "Shari J. Ryan" すべてのカテゴリー

Nazi-occupied Prague, 1942: Amelia is hiding in her closet when flashlights blind her and she’s captured by the SS. Out on the cobblestone street, her heart shatters as her mother is shot before her eyes. She is shoved onto a freight train with hundreds of others—hours pass as they travel in darkness. Arriving in a concentration camp, Amelia fears for her life when she is led to a block by a soldier. He is her enemy, yet he secretly passes her a piece of bread; an act that saves her.

My best friend disappeared twenty years ago. I thought she was dead. But today I’ve received a message that makes my heart stop. It says it’s from Izzy. And she’s blaming my new husband for her disappearance… I stare at the email in horror. I’ve only just managed to put what happened to Izzy behind me. My life is so different now. I have two perfect children, and the perfect husband at last.

Paris, 1943. German soldiers drag me out onto the cobbled street and push me toward the waiting truck. I force myself to face forward as tears stream down my cheeks. If I look back, they’ll know. I can’t let them find my baby girl....

Dachau, 1942. Emilie has been told she's here to nurse evil men. But the first patient she sees in the cold, dark room is hauntingly familiar. Her first love is not wicked. He couldn't be. What is he doing here? Emilie's heart stops as she takes in her childhood sweetheart hunched in a tattered prisoners uniform, the light lost from his face. Her new husband, Otto, said this was a camp for criminals. He should know, he's the doctor. But Danner would never have broken the law.

They warned me the first few days of motherhood would be exhausting, but I’m so deliriously happy, I don’t mind one bit. Smiling, I glance at the baby blue blanket I crocheted. I’ve never knitted a thing in my life, but I was determined to make my newborn his very first blanket—a one-of-a-kind welcome-home gift. I tug the rocker closer to me, unable to resist peeking at my beautiful baby boy. I pull back the blanket. It feels like my heart flatlines. He’s not here. Sweat beads on my forehead, and my limbs turn to ice. “Where is he?” I cry, my whole body trembling, the wind knocked out of me.

I’m in shock. This is impossible. Because earlier this evening when the Smiths left for their fancy charity gala—Lara in high heels and a floor-length gown, Corbin in a tux—they never mentioned a baby. And they certainly didn’t show me this nursery room, up in the eaves of their sprawling, beachfront mansion.