Hello friends! It is my pleasure to introduce the book cover of Jill Stengl’s first book in seven years. Yes, it’s true!
Before I present the cover, a little bit about Jill: she’s the author of sixteen romance books and novellas published with Barbour Publishing. And she (and her daughter, Anne Elisabeth) are editors with the Stengl Fiction Editing Services. You can read the rest about Jill in the ‘About the Author’ section.
Now on to the Cover Reveal! Folks, I hereby introduce to you this very lovely and thoughtfully put together cover. Kudos to Anne Elisabeth Stengl (Jill’s daughter) and Amber Stokes (yes, my editor) for putting together this Cover Reveal. To know the other bloggers in this shindig and hear their thoughts on this cover, visit Anne’s blog here for the list.
About the Book
Colette DeMer and her brother Pascoe are two sides of the same coin, dependent upon one another in the tumultuous world of the new Republic. Together they labor with other leaders of the sans-culottes to ensure freedom for all the downtrodden men and women of France.
But then the popular uprisings turn bloody and the rhetoric proves false. Suddenly, Colette finds herself at odds with Pascoe and struggling to unite her fractured family against the lure of violence. Charged with protecting an innocent young woman and desperately afraid of losing one of her beloved brothers, Colette doesn’t know where to turn or whom to trust as the bloodshed creeps ever closer to home.
Until that distant day when peace returns to France, can she find the strength to defend her loved ones . . . even from one another?
Coming April 25, 2014
From Rooglewood Press
Now, let’s talk a little bit about this cover. You know me; I can’t resist deciphering a good book cover.
The first thing you would notice about this story is that the setting is in France. Not typical, right? Looking at Collette’s face, it is fresh with a lot of hope. Her eyes—blue, intelligent, confident and focused—resemble a woman on a mission. This lady wants to accomplish something real bad! The glow on her face and what appears to be the beginnings of a smile on her lips show that despite her mission, she hasn’t forgotten the world or the people around her. Whether out of love or courtesy, things are always better when you face the world with a positive attitude, right? Besides, it’s what is expected of a true lady, something that you can guess by her very fancy and colorful attire.
Now about that hat—oh my! It’s very fantastique, oui? In other words, it’s fanciful, dashing and stylish, still found very much among our English friends today, yes (The Royal Family, anyone?)? What does that say about Collette? She’s a lady who’s very much in vogue. She knows a beautiful thing when she sees it and knows how to don it right. You couldn’t come across a young lady like this and not say “Salut!”
Notice the colors that swim around Collette’s image. They give an overall appearance of blue with lurking shades of purple. Blue symbolizes calm, depth, wisdom, freedom, confidence, faith and intellect, the very elements we hope to find in this story. And doesn’t the Back Cover Copy agree? I think it does. When the blue is in a light shade, you could add softness and understanding to its list of meanings. When it is dark-toned, you could include seriousness.
Purple on the other hand, represents power, independence, nobility and is sometimes associated with wisdom (because it symbolizes royalty, power and nobility), creativity and mystery. Now remember we said that the purple is in different shades? Light purple is said to promote/persuade/evoke romance. I so hope we get some romance in this story. Thankfully, we can see that a healthy splotch of light purple surrounds her head, neck and settles lightly on her shoulders. Isn’t it just the perfect place? We want our smart lady here to have a good mix of love in her head, don’t we?
On the negative side, when there is dark purple, it could mean sadness or distress. Let’s hope Collette and her loved ones don’t have to deal with much of that in this story. Well, what do know? There is some dark purple at the crown of the picture.
Now these two powerful colors surround Collette’s image. I’d also like to believe it surrounds or is part of her world in this story. Concentrate on her eyes and the glow on her face. There seems to be some wisdom, confidence, faith, intelligence and depth locked in them, the very ingredients needed by a highly creative lady who’s on a mission. Doesn’t that make her a mystery you want to uncover? And her elegant cloths, hat and umbrella definitely give off an aura of nobility, don’t you think?
I must confess, I haven’t read the book. But if you know me, I LOVE to break down pictures! A picture is worth a thousand words people say. I take immense pleasure in unlocking those words.
Well, we’ll see if I’m right.
Another surprise I’d like to reveal to you dear friends … It’s Jill’s birthday today! Ta-dah! Join me (and a host of other bloggers) in saying, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY Jill! I wish you many more years and lots of success! Amen.”
Now folks, Jill, Anne Elisabeth, Amber and I, would really appreciate it if you could help promote this book by grabbing the blog button and link below and pasting it on the sidebar of your blog if you have one. Bloggers and writers, we all know the blood and sweat that goes into writing a book. Let’s help a fellow one out. On behalf of the author, thanks very plenty!
Here is the link that you could use http://untilthatdistantdaynovel.blogspot.com/. It is also the url for the book page in case you want to visit the site and learn more about Jill and her book.
Jill has also been so generous to offer a fantastic bundle giveaway of TEN of her print novels and novellas, including her best Selling book Faithful Traitor, several novella collections, and her three-book Longtree series! And the best part, they will all be autographed. I know! Awesome, right? However, this giveaway is open to only US and Canada (sorry!). Common, you know the drill. With this link to a Rafflecopter giveaway ticket, you can join in. Please people, be my guest!
About the Author
Jill Stengl is the author of numerous romance novels including Inspirational Reader’s Choice Award- and Carol Award-winning Faithful Traitor, and the bestselling novella, Fresh Highland Heir. She lives with her husband in the beautiful Northwoods of Wisconsin, where she enjoys her three cats, teaching a high school English Lit. class, playing keyboard for her church family, and sipping coffee on the deck as she brainstorms for her next novel. You can visit Jill on her blog at http://jillstengl.blogspot.com/
Now, for a sneak peek into the book …
Until That Distant Day
Opening of Chapter 1
I was born believing that the world was unfair and that I was the person to make it right.
One of my earliest memories is of Papa setting me atop a nail keg in the forge; I could not have been older than two at the time.
“Colette, give Papa a kiss,” he said, tapping his cheek.
“Come and sit on my knee.”
My response to every order was the same, asked with genuine curiosity. I did not understand why his watching friends chuckled. Why should I press my lips to Papa’s sweaty, prickly cheek? Why should I hop down from the keg, where he had just placed me, and run to sit on his knee, a most uncomfortable perch? I felt justified in requesting a reason for each abrupt order, yet he never bothered to give me one.
Mama, when thus questioned, provided an answer in the form of a sharp swat. This I could respect as definitive authority, although the reasoning behind it remained dubious.
My little brother Pascoe was born believing that the world was his to command. As soon as he acquired his first vocabulary word, “No,” he and I joined ranks in defiance of established authority.
Many impediments cluttered the path of destiny in those early years: parents, thirteen other siblings, physical ailments, and educational difficulties. And as we grew into adulthood, more serious matters intervened, even parting us for a time. But I will speak more of that later. For now, let me assure you that, no matter the obstacles thrown in our way, our sibling bond seemed indissoluble; the love between us remained unaffected by any outside relationship.
Pascoe and I were young adults when revolutionaries in Paris threw aside the tyranny of centuries and established a new government based on the Rights of Man. From the seclusion of our little village in Normandy we rejoiced over each battle fought and won; and when our local physician, Doctor Hilliard, who had first mentored then employed Pascoe for several years, was elected as deputy to the National Assembly from our district, a whole new world opened at our feet.
My story truly begins on a certain day in the spring of 1792, in the little domain I had made for myself in the kitchen at the back of Doctor Hilliard’s Paris house. Perhaps it wasn’t truly my domain, for it did not belong to me. I was merely the doctor’s housekeeper and could lay no real claim. Nevertheless, the kitchen was more mine than anything had ever been, and I loved that small, dark room; especially during the hours when sunlight slanted through the bubbled-glass kitchen windows, making bright, swirling shapes on the whitewashed walls, or each evening when I arranged my latest culinary creation on a platter and left it in the warming oven for the doctor to discover whenever he arrived home. That kitchen was my home. Not the home I had grown up in, but the home I had always craved.
On that particular day, however, it did not feel the safe haven I had always believed it to be. Loud voices drifted down from the upper floor where the doctor and Pascoe were in conference, disturbing my calm. When I closed the connecting door to the dining room, the angry voices drifted in through the open kitchen windows. I couldn’t close the windows; I might smother of heat. Yet I needed to block out the sound, to make it stop.
So I slipped a filet of sole into a greased skillet and let it brown until golden on both sides. The hiss and sizzle did not quite cover the shouting, but it helped. Then I slid the fish onto a waiting plate lined with sautéed vegetables fresh from my kitchen garden; and I topped all with an herbed wine-and-butter sauce. A grind of fresh pepper finished off my creation.
But my hands were still trembling, and I felt as if something inside me might fall to pieces.
Pascoe often shouted. Shouting was part of his fiery nature, a normal event. He shouted when he gave speeches at section meetings. He shouted about overcooked meals or inferior wines. He shouted when his lace jabot refused to fall into perfect folds.
But never before had I heard Doctor Hilliard raise his voice in anger.
Doctor Hilliard was never angry. Doctor Hilliard never displayed emotion. At most, he might indicate approval by the glance of a benevolent eye or disapprobation by the merest lift of a brow. Yet there could be no mistaking the two furious voices overhead. I well knew Pascoe’s sharp tenor with its sarcastic edge; but now I also heard the doctor’s resonant voice crackling with fury.
I managed to slide the hot plate into the warmer alongside a crusty loaf of bread and closed the door, using a doubled towel to protect my shaking hands.
Behind me the connecting door was flung open, and Pascoe burst in as I spun to face him. “Gather your things; we are leaving,” he growled. His eyes blazed in his pale face, and the jut of his jaw allowed for no questions. He clapped his tall hat on his head as he passed through the room.
I donned my bonnet and sabots and picked up my parasol. “What has happened?” I asked just above a whisper.
“I’ll tell you once we are away from this house.” His lips snapped tight. His chest heaved with emotion, and he grasped a portfolio so tightly that his fingers looked white.
I could not recall the last time I had seen my brother in such a rage.
~ THE END … FOR NOW ~