The Picky Eater's Recovery Book Novels & Stories

No wonder it received a five-star rating. She picked up the landline and rang the restaurant service. Jessie gave her food preferences when the phone was picked up. Her doctor had advised her on the food groups she ought to eat more of and those she ought to eat less of. Jessie selected the option that included more fruits and vegetables. After hanging up, she went back to her room. Then she noticed the brand-new book she had recently purchased but hadn't even opened to read. "I suppose now is your chance to shine." She picked it up and carried it with her as she left her room.

“But—I’m not promising I’ll like it,” “You don’t have to like it,” the nurse replied. “You just have to eat it. Ignoring it means you’re not just hurting yourself—but you’re also delaying the chance to stabilize.” Nevena gave a ghost of a smile, more like a breath. “You’re starting to sound like my sponsor....in a recovery group.” “I’ll take that as a compliment,” the nurse chuckled. “For broccoli, low-sodium meals, fruits. Welcome to the club...cause I'm your official guide.”

"I love hugging pretty girls." When Verda saw that I wasn't hurt, her eyes filled with frantic hope. "Hey, pick-me! I… I mean, Cheryl, please help me. My family's rich. I can give you anything as long as you help me survive this!" I raised a finger and wagged it lightly. "Girl, you've got me all wrong. I'm a pick‑me, not a gold digger. Money doesn't tempt me at all!" I stepped aside politely, ready to let karma do its work.

which I LOVED, of course. The doctor also sent us a list of vitamins and a suggested diet to help Eddy get back to what he's supposed to be at this age. So we were all eating around his diet. I also double-checked how much chocolate, ice cream and lollies he could have as well, so don't worry. I got some work done as he napped, set up on the dining table as Alice was in the study today, and I could then listen out for Eddy. OK, I lied, I got about ten minutes of work done before giving up and opening the book Ma got me on child development and did some more reading instead.

I then donated the medical books to the infirmary and had decided to construct and open up a bookstore in the center of the town. Rhys got all better in just three days, and thankfully, nothing alarming happened on that timeline. There was not a fight or another misunderstanding with her, but her bet is still on the go. As soon as she got better she also learned to dine with us together at the table but yeah, she has too many objections like; “I am not into milk,” “Coffee is better than juice,” “The bread is quite bland,” “I am not fond of a dinner without desserts,” “This pudding is unpleasant,”

she whispered one afternoon, sitting on the edge of the bed after another exhausting morning. I immediately crouched in front of her. “You are growing a human being,” I said firmly. “There is nothing useless about that.” She shook her head weakly. “I can’t even keep food down.” “Then I’ll figure out what you can keep down.” And I did. I researched obsessively. Consulted specialists. Spoke to nutritionists. I stocked the kitchen with every recommendation possible. Ginger chews. Electrolyte drinks. Small protein snacks. And slowly painfully slowly we found combinations that worked.

Mel sat near one of the fires, tired but content. Then Gerda appeared at her side, her face pale. "My lady," Gerda's voice was strained. "It's Elise. She's fallen ill." Mel's blood went cold. "What?" "She ate some of the purple fruits you found," Gerda said quietly, her eyes heavy. "She's running a fever and she can't keep anything down." The warmth drained from Mel's body as if someone had tipped a bucket of ice water over her head. She stood so abruptly that a few heads turned and the murmur of conversation nearby died as the news began to spread.

She would just wait silently until mealtime, but she couldn't eat much after a few bites. Not knowing whether she actually wanted to eat, we hired a pastry chef specializing in children's nutrition. Every day, he would prepare small snacks for her, just in case. His creations were adorable, and Tabitha liked to play with them in her hands. But she rarely ate them. After a while, she'd start zoning out again, squeezing and playing with them. This went on for a week, and Tabitha lost five pounds. Nicholas and I were extremely worried, but there was nothing we could do except watch helplessly, heartbroken.

“I should make breakfast. What do you want?” Just as Ivara parted her lips to answer, he waved her off. “Forget it, I'll figure it out.” He muttered, pulling out a small book from his pocket. An actual cookery book. He began flipping through it with a focused expression. “What is something you would like... let me see...” He turned a page. Turned another. His nose wrinkled. “None of this looks edible. Ewww. How do people eat this?” he kept reading. “I'd always pick hearts and souls over any of this. Honestly, I don't understand why —”

No matter the method, she had to ensure that both his precious children received a balanced and sufficient diet. But it wasn’t easy. The little princess was at the peak age for picky eating. It was already a miracle if she ate properly at all, let alone the specified foods. As luck would have it, Zoe the little princess didn’t like eggs—she even said the yolk reminded her of poop, which disgusted her.