At just 18 years old, writer Maria Fernanda Leite debuted in literature with the Christian novel A More Than Perfect Love, which follows the journey of young Leticia, princess heir to the fictional kingdom of Alandy . Living under the appearance of an ideal life, the protagonist faces the mourning of her mother’s death and finds herself pressured by royal obligations, such as an arranged marriage with the Prince of Canada. Between losses, discoveries and emotional conflicts, the work portrays maturation, the construction of self-esteem and the power of faith amidst life’s imperfections.
Leticia lives surrounded by luxury and expectations, but she faces a very human pain: grief. What was it like for you to balance this contrast between the royal setting of a castle and the intimate and universal emotions of loss?
Challenging, to be honest. When I created Leticia, I wanted to show that not even luxury and emotional comfort can shield someone from human pain. I built this contrast intentionally: the castle setting symbolizes external expectations, while mourning exposes internal fragility. My idea was to provoke the reader to see that emotional suffering does not choose social class. Each person experiences mourning based on their beliefs, their wounds, and their capacity for resilience. In this case, pain humanizes Leticia and reveals what lies behind the façade of a “perfect life.”
The book shows how, often, the “perfect life” is just an appearance. Did you feel that, in a way, you also wanted to deconstruct idealized standards about what it means to have a happy life?
Yes, I wanted to show that luxury, money, or social status do not always guarantee happiness. Often, these appearances hide deep pain, such as mourning, rejection, and loneliness. Leticia, despite being a princess, carries real insecurities and difficulties connecting with friends, like many young women. I wanted to deconstruct this idea of a “perfect life” and show that pain also lives in palaces. I also dispelled the image that, because she had a king as a father, she would be pampered and flattered. Her journey is marked by loss and maturity, like that of so many girls who seek meaning even in the midst of pain.
Leticia needs to mature quickly, amidst grief and the pressures of the throne. Did you draw inspiration from situations from your own adolescence or youth to write about this early responsibility?
Adolescence, in general, is a phase marked by many social, family and internal pressures. It is a time when, even though we are still in the process of transition, self-discovery, and searching for meaning and purpose in life, we are held accountable as adults and need to mature quickly, make decisions and deal with responsibilities for which we are not always ready. Leticia represents this reality that is common to so many young people, who face deep pain, mourning and the obligation to take on decisive responsibilities in their lives, such as professional careers, serious relationships, and the loss of loved ones. All while still trying to understand who they are. So yes, I was inspired by this phase as a whole and a little by myself.
Faith plays a fundamental role in the character’s emotional journey. How did you integrate elements of Christian spirituality into the narrative without leaving aside the lightness and romance of the story?
Integrating Christian spirituality into the narrative was both a challenge and a gift. Challenging because, despite the growing production of Christian novels, many still go to extremes, are excessively doctrinaire, or end up losing sight of the values that should support their plots. And that was precisely where the purpose of this book was born: to show that it is possible to combine faith, lightness and romance naturally, without sounding forced or distant from the reader’s reality.
For me, it was extremely gratifying to realize that it was possible to tell an emotionally engaging story, with conflicts and growth, without giving up my values and my faith. I wanted to avoid the stereotype of a markedly religious book, but at the same time, maintain a solid spiritual foundation, a novel that touches the heart and also the soul.
Throughout the writing, I was led to create something that dialogued with pure romanticism, but without ignoring the depth of feelings and choices, which are so much more meaningful when lived with purpose.
The relationship between Leticia and Peter begins with conflict and gradually changes. How did you build this dynamic of “enemies” that gradually turns into respect, care and even passion?
Building this dynamic was one of the most engaging parts of writing. Working with characters who begin their journey in opposition, almost as “enemies,” allowed me to explore more real and human layers of affection, those that arise not from the immediate romantic ideal, but from coexistence, from confronting one’s own vulnerabilities, and from discovering virtues in the other that were previously covered by emotional defenses.
The provocations between Leticia and Peter, often funny, bring to light a light-hearted way of showing that, behind the implications, there are feelings that have not yet been named and wounds that have not yet been treated. They are mirrors of each other, and it is precisely in this tension between pride, hurt and discovery that the bond begins to be built.
Their relationship matures as they learn to see each other with more compassion, and this transforms the narrative into something much deeper than just a romance: it becomes a journey of mutual healing. In the end, that’s what it’s about: love that arises slowly, but with deep roots, because it is shaped by the truth of who one is.
The mysterious musician brings a new layer of emotional turmoil to the protagonist. Why did you think it was important to include this third element in the love triangle and how does it contribute to Leticia’s maturation?
The musician’s entry into the love triangle was designed to symbolize something that many of us live in silence: the fear of being truly loved. Sometimes, we try to run away from what we desire most, not because we don’t want to, but because we’re afraid of giving in, being vulnerable, or not feeling worthy of something so profound. Leticia goes through this process. When confronting her feelings for Peter, she comes face to face with the intensity of a love that scares her because it seems too real.
Noah emerges as this emotional refuge, a safe figure who represents “love that is possible without risks.” He awakens in Leticia an affection that, at first glance, seems more comfortable and controllable. But, throughout the plot, she begins to realize that her attempt to distance herself from Peter was, in fact, an unconscious way of protecting herself from the pain and fear of rejection.
This internal conflict was essential for the character’s development. When she finds herself divided, Leticia is led to delve into her deepest emotions and recognize that true love, the kind that truly transforms, requires courage. Noah, with his sensitive and symbolic presence, contributed not only as a narrative element, but as a mirror of the protagonist’s internal dilemmas. It is in the confrontation between these two feelings that she understands that running away from love is not about protecting herself, but depriving herself of living fully.
The writing of the book is light, romantic and, at the same time, full of dense themes. Do you think that the balance between lightness and depth is the secret to dialoguing with the dilemmas of today’s youth?
Yes, I believe that the balance between lightness and depth is essential to reach young people. Young people face intense pressures and seek stories that offer meaning without becoming an additional burden.
Depth provokes reflection and awareness; lightness, in turn, makes these themes accessible, allowing them to be embraced naturally, almost as if learning without realizing it. This balance is what transforms reading into a refuge and learning at the same time.
My intention in writing was precisely this: to create a story that makes you think without becoming heavy, that embraces the reader while teaching. That literature, even when dealing with dense subjects, can be a place of refuge, identification and hope.
At just 18 years old, you have already published a novel with very complex themes. How has it been for you personally to deal with the repercussion of the book and the feedback from readers who identify with Leticia?
It has been exciting to follow the impact of my book. Each message, each shared reading, each identification with a story has touched me deeply. Knowing that something I have written has reached hearts in such a genuine way is, without a doubt, one of the greatest joys I have ever experienced. I am very grateful for each feedback, it strengthens me and reminds me of why I write.
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