My name is Clara, and I was born to dance in the Nutcracker.

I eat, sleep, and breathe ballet, until a jealous understudy causes me to break my ankle. I can’t stand en pointe. I can’t dance. My Christmas is ruined.
Until my sister hooks me up with one of the world’s best orthopedic surgeons, and gives me hope.
His name is Klaus, he’s Swedish, and they call him Dr. Christmas.
He’s also single, newly-widowed, and hot-as-hell.
I think, for the first time in my life, I could maybe grow to care about something other than ballet.