Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Welcome, Diane Scott Lewis
Ginger, I’m so thrilled you invited me to post on your blog. I’ve been writing since a small child and have worked as an editor for The Wild Rose Press. I recently received a contract for my debut historical novel, The False Light. I anticipate starting edits any day now as the book will release in April from Eternal Press.
I’ve researched the eighteenth century for several years, even poring over old texts in the Library of Congress, to get my history correct.
Here’s the gist of my story:
“Fleeing the French Revolution, Bettina Jonquiere struggles to survive in a remote Cornish village, discover the secret behind her father's death, while attracted to a man who may have murdered his wife.” The novel is full of adventure, intrigue and romance.
Below is an UNEDITED excerpt.
Lisbette de Jonquiere crushed the small bundle to her chest and hurried across the main square of Boulogne’s Haute Ville. She glanced back at the townhouse. A place where she’d resented being sequestered this last week, yet it was preferable to the night’s shadows. Blinking drizzle from her eyelashes, she glared at the elderly man walking beside her. His lantern pushed a small pool of light before them. “If I must sail, why can’t I travel as a passenger on a packet boat?”
“There is…no time to obtain a passport.” Armand rasped this out, ending in a cough. He moved closer and hooked his arm with hers as if they led a nocturnal dance. “When you arrive in Dover catch the first coach to Bath.”
They passed the cathedral and the pink-bricked Town Hall. Around a corner, Lisbette started when a figure emerged from an alley and blocked their path. Armand halted, twitching his shoulders before the huge man who trudged into their lantern’s glow. Lisbette cringed at his filthy clothes. His face looked as if someone had tried to carve their initials into his cheeks. A stench rolled off him, like the slime washed up from beneath the sea.
“So, this is the one?” The giant tugged a frayed hat low on his forehead. Water dripping off the roof behind him smacked the cobbles and stirred the mist around his bulky frame.
“Certainement. This is she, and please be gentle.” Armand glanced at her, his eyes droopy above gaunt cheeks, sadder than she’d ever seen them. “Is it quiet down there, at the harbor?”
“Quiet enough for what we need. Only one from customs. I’ll be there.” The man turned around and in a splat of footfalls the gloom swallowed him up once more.
Lisbette shivered and bunched together the edges of her cloak, already damp from the increasing rain. “Who is that dirty man, Armand? I still don’t understand why you insist on sending me off at this hour and with no decent companion.”
“I’ve explained that it’s too late to engage anyone. But I promised your mother I’d keep you from harm.” He averted his eyes when he mentioned her mother, then coughed into his hand. “Let’s keep walking, my dear.”
“Maman will not approve of this. We should go back to the house. You’re ill. I feel the heat in your arm.” Lisbette wondered if his fever had confused him. The shock of being dragged from bed, her interrupted sleep, scrambled for reason in her head. But the cold air sharpened her fears like a needle. “Ma foi, why is my leaving so urgent?”
I hope you will visit my website to find out more about me and my novels in progress:
Note from Ginger: I'm honored that Diane shared an Advanced Reading Copy of The False Light with me, and I'll be reviewing this exciting novel soon on my new Examiner.com site: E-Book Reviews.