I started writing *Cold Rain*in August 2025. Back then, it was just an idea. One of those ideas that knock quietly, seem harmless at first, and pretend they just want to pop in for a quick look.

Well. Looking back, I can say: This idea didn’t just pop in for a quick visit. It moved right in, made itself at home, put its feet up on the table, and decided to take over my entire brain.

By the end of 2025, the book was finally finished. And when I say “finished,” I don’t just mean that I managed to write a story from start to finish. I mean that I was completely immersed in this story with every fiber of my being. In Mara. In Gabriel. In Nic. In the Protector. In everything that happens between them—the tension, the shifts, and the moments that eventually grow so dark that even as the author, I sometimes sit there for a moment and think: All right, have a good cry, pull myself together, and keep writing.

That’s exactly how it was. At some point, I really couldn’t see anything else but this story. Mara, Gabriel, and Nic were constantly on my mind. At breakfast, while doing laundry, walking Luke (we also like to call our hunting dog Gurki, Juju, Yonkas, Willi Yonkas,…I know, we’re a little crazy), at night in bed, in the morning half-asleep, on the fly, and of course right when I was supposed to be doing something completely different. My mind was practically permanently tuned into romantic thrillers. Other people have shopping lists in their heads; I had psychological dynamics, dangerous intimacy, forbidden feelings, and escalating scenes.

And yes, I was addicted. I can't put it any other way.

I wrote during the day, I wrote at night, I wrote in between, I kept writing in my head when I wasn’t sitting at my laptop, and I probably even polished the dialogue in my dreams. It was the kind of story that just wouldn’t let you go. And honestly: I loved it.

Of course, my daily life didn’t look anything like those romanticized author photos where you’re sitting at an aesthetically lit desk with a cup of tea, gazing poetically out at the rain. No. My daily life consisted more of rushing through the day with a thousand thoughts at once, thinking about scenes while our twins demanded their well-deserved attention, being yanked out of my writing frenzy by the dog every now and then, and trying, somewhere in between, to remain a halfway decent photographer and graphic designer as well.

My husband supported me as best he could, and I’m pretty sure that at some point he, too, realized that I wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind to talk to. He probably thought to himself more than once: She’s physically here, but mentally she’s standing in that half-finished cabin in the woods with three troublesome characters. And he wouldn’t have been wrong.

Of course, our twins have played their own unique part in this journey, because when you have children, you don’t write a book in solemn silence and reverent seclusion. You write amidst the hustle and bustle, the noise, the chaos, the exhaustion, and about eighteen interruptions an hour. Not to mention a mom’s guilty conscience. But perhaps that is precisely the most honest way to write a story: not removed from life, but right in the thick of it.

What grabbed me about*Cold Rain*from the very beginning was that blend of passion, suspense, loss, obsession, and danger. I didn’t want to write a story that people would find nice and then forget. I wanted to write a story that gets under your skin. One that tingles, hurts, entices, and unsettles. One in which emotions don’t sit neatly side by side, but collide with one another. A story in which love is not just comfort, but also risk. And I think that’s exactly why this book consumed me so completely.

It was intense. It was wild. At times it was exhausting, at times exhilarating, and at times it felt as if I myself were standing with one foot too close to the edge. But that’s exactly how it had to be.

Now*Kalter Regen*is finished. And this feeling is both wonderful and strange. Beautiful, because every chapter and every word has been written. Because an idea that began in August has turned into a finished manuscript. Strange, because after such a long, intense period, you first have to relearn how not to live constantly in that world. Or at least to pretend that everything is back to normal. Which, in my case, works only moderately well.

Right now, I’m looking for a publisher for*Kalter Regen*and I really hope this story reaches exactly the people it’s meant to reach. People who are in the mood for a dark, intense romantic thriller. People who aren’t afraid to dive deep into it. People who are happy to lose themselves in it, as long as the story is worth it.

But I’m still open to criticism. Even though I truly love my manuscript just as it is, I’m already looking forward to getting a professional opinion and to the time when the work picks up again, so I can take my book to the next level.

Last year, *Kalter Regen*accompanied me, challenged me, kept me on my toes, and inspired me. It took hold of me, never let go, and showed me once again just how crazy, demanding, and yet beautiful writing can be.

And even though I probably went a little bit crazy at times, I’d do it all over again.

Right away.