An Excerpt from my upcoming release! Outcast Artist in Bretagne, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

Blurb:

Unwed and pregnant, Norah Cooper flees England to hide with her cousin in Brittany just before Germany’s 1940 invasion of France. After her baby is stillborn, she's trapped under the Occupation as war expands across Europe. Norah grieves and consoles herself by sketching wildlife. When she’s caught too near the coast, she comes under scrutiny of the German commandant, Major August von Gottlieb.

August loathes what Hitler is doing to his country and France but is duty-bound to control the people in his jurisdiction. The lively young Englishwoman piques his interest. Is she a spy? He questions her and asks her to sketch his portrait so he might uncover the truth.

Soon, their relationship evolves into a passion neither of them can deny. She endures taunts from the villagers. His superiors warn him of not being harsh enough—he could be transferred or worse. He plans to sabotage a major war machine of the Reich, while she secretly helps the Resistance. Both acts are fraught with danger while kept secret from one another. Will their love ruin her and end in heartbreak? Or will they overcome the odds and survive the surging threats on all sides?

Read an excerpt: Norah confronts the Commandant for the first time.

https://bwlauthors.blogspot.com/2023/03/a-frightening-encounter-from-my.html

 

Excerpt from Hostage to the Revolution, sequel to Escape the Revolution, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

Continuing Bettina's misadventures from Escape the Revolution, will she find her lover or be kidnapped by the revengeful revolutionaries?
An excerpt.

The woman lowered her Carnival mask to reveal the perfect, glacial features of Lucrece Bardou, Geralde’s former fiancée.

Lucrece raised her elegant brows. “Very well, we’ll talk here. Are you seeing my Geralde? You have been noticed with him these past months.” She swatted her fan. “And you were dancing with him out front, like two peasants.”

Bettina half-expected this and stifled a laugh. The wine seeped into her muscles, calming her. “We have spent time together, yes. Why is it your business? I heard you were involved with someone else.”

Lucrece tipped up her perfect chin. “That didn’t work out. Geralde and I were practically married. I plan to convince him to change his profession and settle down, with me.” She poked her fan into Bettina’s face. “Without you underfoot.”

Bettina swiped the fan aside. “If he wants to court me, that is our affair.” She grew irritated, yet the idea of his courting her again sent excited quivers along her body. But what about Everett? Could she banish the idea of cheating on a man declared dead? Would the deep hollow in her heart finally heal? “I have nothing more to say to you, Madame.”

“You stay away from him, I’m warning you.” Lucrece turned. A masked man bowed in her path. She jabbed her fan into his chest. “You had better not be a Negro, sir. The law forbids you to mask.” She tossed her curls in superiority and flounced off.

Bettina laughed at the woman’s haughtiness and walked in the other direction from the shrew. She looked around for Geralde, unsure if she should warn him about Lucrece. He may not even want to court Bettina again, and she couldn’t blame him. She’d find him and ask him to dance with the others, under the gigantic crystal chandelier that shimmered and reflected candlelight in sprinkles across the ceiling and walls.

Someone tugged on her sleeve. Bettina glanced down to a Negro child dressed in white cap and apron. “Yes, dear?”

“Pardon, Madame. A man wishes to speak to you.” The girl stared up with large black eyes. “He is on the side gallery.”

Was it Geralde, hiding from Lucrece? “Show me where. Is he a handsome man in buckskins?” She followed the child down a short hallway to a set of long windows. Then she hesitated, uneasy in the shadows. “Can you ask him to come inside?”

“He says he has news about your children.” The girl opened the windows.

Could Fred be here? Were the children ill? Bettina winced and poked her head out to scan the dark porch. “Who is here?” Now she wished she’d brought someone with her.

A man stepped forward, and waved the girl off. The long windows clicked shut. “I have news from your nephew. You must return to the cottage.”

“What has happened? Are my children all right?” She hurried out, thoughts confused.

He clasped her arm. “Come with me, Madame, and I will explain.”

“Tell me who you are first.” She resisted his tug on her arm, her skin prickling.

His grip tightened and he shuffled her toward the steps. “Do not fight me, I have a gun.”

“Mais non. How dare you. Let me go!” Bettina gasped and struggled. A pistol barrel stabbed into her side.

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund.

A young woman running from French assassins, Escape the Revolution, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

Purchase Escape the Revolution HERE

Read an excerpt: 

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?”

Follow Lisbette on her frightening journey to England. Will she find solace or more danger?

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund.