A love story between Berlin und Los Angeles, two people, life was not always merciful with and the shark bowl of Hollywood.

Was it coincidence that lead David and Anna together? Or was that the work of totally different forces? And has their love got a chance under these circumstances?

Anna still is in deep grief, when she reluctantly

accepts a job as a tour guide in Berlin. Then she comes to know the screenwriter David, who achieves to pull her out of that grief time after time. She dares a new start in Los Angeles, but the ghosts of their past haunt David and Anna again and again. Will they be able to save their love and master their common destiny?

"White gold wing is one of the novels, you sit down on the sofa with and don´t want to get up any more."

"A touching, exciting and linguistically nice novel, you can´t put aside any more!"

Reviews

"This summer the sunrays burned down into the city early in the day, hot and pitiless. It would soon become stale between the rows of houses and the air would vibrate. The glowing asphalt would bore into the shoe soles and the heat stick around the calves. Then breathing would be painful and the T-shirt stick underneath the armpits. But it was not that far yet. She was early, as usual. The bright light penetrating unhindered through the enormous windows of the old building had released her from a dreamless half-sleep. She had risen from the churned-up bed with effort, had put on sandals and left the house. Now she placed one foot in front of the other. Step by step. Step by step. Every movement of her legs brought her forwards. Only move, move, no more standstill. Otherwise, her thoughts unrelentingly started to concentrate on the black hole, the big black nothing, which soaked up everything and devoured it. It seemed tempting to throw herself into the darkness and to disappear. ‘Why do I defend myself against it every day anew?’ She stopped and closed her eyes. The sun on her face didn’t want to match the darkness inside her. But the question didn’t go away and the longer she thought about it, the more unanswerable it appeared to her: Why, actually?

Then a scraggy person with shaggy hair and ragged clothes bumped into her. He staggered on, but then turned around to her. “Sorry, eh! Didn’t mean …”

Indignantly Anna opened her eyes. The man gazed at her and then moved a step closer again. “Hav' a little money fo' a homeless?”

His breath smelt stale. She shook her head. She really didn’t got anything with her. “C-could use some m-money my-myself,“ she answered. The man turned away and lifted his hand as if in greeting before he shuffled on.

Sighing, Anna resumed placing one foot in front of the other. It took her so much energy. Now she felt the tingling sunrays on her skin stretched over her bones like parchment, and the next moment she also perceived the swelling noise of traffic. Moving, simply moving.

The little green traffic-light man with a hat on, who seemed to be on the move so purposefully, disappeared. Now a red one stared anonymously at her with arms stretched out, as if he wanted to embrace her. She stopped and stared back. What was she doing here while a part of her was already on the other side? She felt the suck of that dark side very clearly. One more small step now, at this instant, at this traffic light, could finally bring release, and shut down the carousel of thoughts.

The ugly noise of shrieking brakes startled her. The traffic between the prefabricated buildings halted; impatiently, like hounds on a leash, the cars waited. Reluctantly Anna went towards the little traffic light man who had started moving dynamically again. So not here and not now. The Frankfurt gate should probably not be the last thing she saw in her life.

When she came back to her flat, her dusted phone awoke from its Sleeping Beauty repose.

“I’ve got a job for you, girl, you need to go out again and mingle with other people. And you do need the money anyway, don’t you?“ Maximilian belched into the receiver without any greeting. “David Hurst’s a nice guy. Speaks German quite well, has grown up in two languages, because he’s got a German mother. But apparently, he thinks that he doesn’t manage alone so easily. He’d like to have company showing him town.”

“Y-You aren’t serious, are you? You don’t really b-believe, that I’ll get involved in such a thing, d-do you?”, said Anna upset.

“Now, hold on! What do ye think? I’m leading an event agency, no escort service! His production company has assured him that he can investigate here. He joins the team which promotes his new movie. And now his wish is to…”

“D-Do you really think, I’m going to p-play the tourist guide for an actor who is probably be-besieged by P-Paparazzi? Are you okay, though?”

“David Hurst is not an actor! He’s written the screenplay, for Christ’s sake. No one, at least no reporter, is interested in him at all. And he’s a damn good author, you can believe me and he doesn’t need to buy a quickie here for sure!“ Maximilian expressed, outraged. “He only wants somebody to show him around the town off the tourist paths and you urgently do need some change and money anyway. Contact me by tonight, if you haven’t dissolved in self-pity till then, otherwise Silvana will take over the job.” He had hung up fury-snorting.

Why on earth did Maximilian offer this job to her of all people? He had no notion what she looked like! This Yankee will think he deals with a zombie. This must have been clear to Maximilian. She had phoned Silvana, Maximilian´s “right hand” at the agency, to ask her frankly, what to think about Maximilian´s offer. But Silvana only explained that everybody in the agency was worried about her and offered her help at the same time.

Of course she needed the money. Urgently, actually. And an occupation to clear away the cobwebs, too. So she accepted the job reluctantly."

She was to meet this scribbler in the Regent Hotel at the Gendarme Market. The rest would

https://www.amazon.de/White-Wings-English-Christine-Rhomer-ebook/dp/B06XPPY5VQ/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8