Blurb
Author Marianne Petit mixes true life experiences with
fiction to create a suspenseful tale of intrigue and romance set in the early
days of war-torn France.
In 1940 Paris, both rich and poor are thrust together - a
mixed society struggling to survive.
American born Yvette Matikunas, one
of the privileged few, goes underground with a deathbed promise to her
grandfather that has her roaming the streets of France with a dangerous
message. She quickly learns that no one is who they seem to be and trust is a
thing of her past.
Injured in battle while trying to save the life of one of his
men, Colonial André Rinaldo is disillusioned by a shell-shocked country and a
weak government. Persuaded to go
underground and unite his fellow compatriots by forming resistance groups, he
meets the beautiful blonde, Yvette, whose determination to free France from
foreign dictatorship is as strong as his.
In the middle of espionage and clandestine rendezvous, they
form a partnership that deepens even under the ever-present threat of
arrest. But with America’s interest in
the war building in the background all Americans are ordered to leave the
country. Will Yvette return to the States, or will André persuade her to stay
and fight for love?
Excerpt
The train slowed as it
approached the station. On the platform, German soldiers stood at attention. As
they boarded the train, people shuffled through their belongings for their
documents. A hush settled over the compartment in anticipation.
Yvette’s proof of citizenship
shook in her fingers. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and dropped
her hand in her lap.
Pierre, her canary,
was quiet; thank the dear lord, for her nerves were taut enough without
his high-pitched chirping. The last thing she needed was for him to draw
attention. The last thing she needed was to have someone find Grandpère’s
message hidden in the bottom of the cage. The words, written with a shaky hand,
made no sense. The grapes are rotting on the vine. It’s time to bring
them in. The wine is ripe. But her grandpère’s warning was embedded
in her brain. Trust no one. Whatever cryptic message lay hidden under the
paper, it put her in danger.
The compartment door slid open
and Yvette’s heart skipped a beat.
Two soldiers stood in the
corridor. One man, decorated with metals that would way down a rock, appeared
to be the superior. He had a wide pronounced brow. His chin melted into his
neck and his short-cropped silver hair seemed plastered to his head. A long
gray mustache turned slightly down over a frown.
Yvette’s gaze slid past the
elderly man to the light-haired soldier who studied her with intense blue eyes.
Broad-shouldered, about six two, lean and muscular, he dominated the small
doorway. His countenance rigid, like one accustomed to enduring the routine of
war, he stood at attention, his eyes assessing everyone and everything.
His superior entered the
compartment with an air of bitter disgust.
The routine common place
everyone held out their traveling papers. Her heart pounding, Yvette waited and
hoped her American papers would be of no interest to them.
The interrogation began in
German and she didn’t respond, which brought a heated tone to the superior’s
voice. He snapped something to the soldier who stood silently at the door. The
younger man stepped forward, his gait like one of the wooden soldiers from the
Laurel and Hardy movie Babes in Toyland.
“My commandant wants to know
what kind of name Matikunas is,” he said in French.
Her father’s name was
Lithuanian, a country annexed by Nazi Germany and placed under German civil
administration. The Poles, especially the elite, became subject to mass murder.
Was he fishing to see if she was Polish?
“I am an American,” Yvette
insisted without further commentary.
Her remark brought a scowl to
the commander’s face. He pointed to her birdcage and Yvette’s pulse
leapt.
When he ripped off the cloth
cover, the startled bird darted back and forth in the cage. Pierre’s loud chirp
filled the compartment. The German opened the door and stuck his hand inside.
“How dare you,” Yvette spat, in
English, knowing he could not understand her. She did not care. “I hope he
bites you.”
He turned a sinister look upon
her and her body tightened.
The nervous bird hopped from
one perch to the other.
The German
began to peel up the newspaper lining the bottom of the cage.
Color drained from Yvette’s
face. If he finds the note…dear Lord…what
will he do? Her teeth cut into her lip. She had heard horror stories
of people brutalized, thrown in prison for far less. Grandpère’s death flashed
before her eyes. Thinking about the possibilities brought a cold sweat to her
brow. Calm down, she told herself. Breathe.
Breathe.
The German’s fingers were
inches away from discovering the hidden message.
Yvette held her breath…
…and Pierre pooped on his hand.
The scene played out in a comic
rush. Red-faced, swearing, or so she guessed, the German pulled out his hand
and snatched a handkerchief from the breast pocket of the gentleman sitting
opposite her, who, in French, called him a German pig.
Yvette suppressed a grin.
Pierre broke out in song.
The commander spun on his heel.
He said something to the handsome soldier in the corridor, stomped outside,
then slammed open the next compartment.
The train whistle blew and the
clanking of wheels, picking up speed vibrated throughout the compartment.
The soldier, who had stood at
attention, strode in.
A jolt of fear attacked
Yvette’s chest, yet she was struck by the strong sensual lines of his face. A
muscle clenched in his narrow jaw. Eyes, like chips of glacial ice, hard and
sharp, stared at her. This man seemed far more dangerous than his superior on
so many levels.
He stepped up to her seat and
bent before her, his face inches from hers. “You are either one brave or lucky
woman,” he whispered in English.
He’d understood her! She
froze.
Despite the dangerous
situation, she was keenly aware of his vitality, of the waves in his sandy hair
and his wide forehead. Her senses leapt to life by the warm breath near her ear
and the clean scent of freshly washed hair. She felt as though they were the
only two people in the small room. As though they shared, a private moment
meant for lovers. Her hands trembled.
Before she could respond, he
continued. “Lucky for you that bird did not bite him.” The threat had an odd
lilt, its tone almost amused. He straightened and stood over her. Whatever
compassion she thought she sensed disappeared behind a mask of indifference.
“My commander is not happy,” he
said in French. “He has instructed me to find out why an unchaperoned woman of
your age, I surmise you are about nineteen, is traveling alone. He believes you
pose a threat. Would you care to explain?” His voice took on an air of
superiority.
“I am quite adept at taking care
of myself and I’m twenty-one.”
“Get up,” he ordered. “Gather
your things.”
Her heart fluttered wildly in
her chest. Her legs refused to move.
He grabbed her arm. “Now.” He
yanked her from her seat.
No one in the compartment made
a move to help and she understood their fear.
His touch disgusted her and,
for a moment, reined her terror. She yanked free. “My bag.” Before she could
reach up for her suitcase, the German grabbed the satchel. She pushed past him
and stepped into the corridor. Once again, he grabbed her arm. His gait quick,
he practically dragged her down the passageway.
A few times the birdcage bumped
the wall and Pierre’s loud chirping filled the corridor.
Yvette clamped her mouth shut,
suppressing the barbed words on her tongue. She was in enough trouble. As she
walked, she deliberated on how she was going to ditch the hidden message.
Leaving Pierre behind was not an option. When they approached the lavatory, she
came up with a plan. “I have–“
“In here,” he ordered as he
pushed open the door and shoved her inside. “Stay put.” The door thud shut.
Yvette dropped onto the
small toilet. What in the world had just happened? Quickly she slid out the
bottom of the cage and pulled out the note. She scribbled the words on the
tiniest piece of paper she could find, slipped off the metal casing of
Grandpère’s cigar lighter and neatly pressed the message inside the casing,
something, she realized, she should have thought about doing earlier.
Footsteps stopped outside her
door.
Her fingers shaking, she
managed to put the lighter back together as the door squeaked open. Out of the
corner of her eye, she saw the original message on the floor. A long arm shoved
a pair of pants, shirt and jacket at her. Yvette’s pulse pounded as she slowly
eased her foot over the paper.
“Put this on, lock the door and
stay quiet,” the familiar voice ordered.
Before she could say a word,
the door closed. This time she locked it. Dumbfounded, Yvette stood
in the cramped space and stared at the clothes. Whose side was he on? Why help
her? Or was he? If this was some perverse game… no, he didn’t appear to be the
kind of man who played games.
Yvette picked up the
incriminating note, opened the toilet, ripped up the message and flushed the
paper onto the tracks.
She struggled out of her
clothes and slipped on the pants that surprisingly, fit rather well, securing
them around her small waist with a belt, a size too big. The shirt fit a little
snugly, the jacket fit perfectly. The thought that he’d sized her up sent an uncomfortable
pang to her stomach. Her nerves throbbed at the base of her throat as she
waited for his next move.
An hour passed–then another.
The clanking of metal on rails
and rocking of the train had a soothing quality and finally convinced, for the
moment, she was safe, Yvette’s heart settled back to a normal beat. She was
just about dozing when the train slowed and a knock snapped her to attention.
“Open up.”
He was back. Her heart collided
with her ribs.
“Hurry, there’s not much time,”
he ordered.
She unlocked the door.
He grabbed the birdcage.
“What do you think–”
“Keep your head down and your
mouth shut,” he said, his tone stern. With a heavy hand, he plopped a blue
pillbox hat on her head. “Follow my lead.”
At the end of the corridor, a
woman and her little girl stood waiting. As they approached them, Yvette
noticed they had her suitcase. The German handed the cage to child. Her mother
took her purse.
“Wait!” Grandpère’s lighter was
in her pocketbook. She couldn’t put them in danger.
“You’ll get him back,” he
whispered.
“A smoke. I need a smoke.” She
reached inside her bag and pulled out the lighter.
The German eyed her with an odd
expression, then pivoted on his heel.
She followed him into the next
compartment.
The rail car was full of men
wearing the same outfit she wore: khaki pants, a white shirt beneath a khaki
jacket and blue and gold hat.
“Foreign Legion.” Short and to
the point was his explanation.
He was certainly a man of few
words. “A dangerous lot. Keep your distance.”
“How can I–”
“Get off with them. The lost
child will be a distraction.”
Yvette watched as the mother
started to walk away, leaving her daughter behind.
“Take her hand, “The German
whispered beside her. “You’re on your own from here.”
“But–”
“Go. Now.” He practically
pushed her into the back of the tall, thin man in front of her. She was about
to protest when she noticed, over her shoulder, the approaching German
soldiers, one in particular—the Commander.
Yvette watched her savior walk
away and greet his fellow comrades. For as long as she lived, she would never
forget the kind German with the slight limp in his gait, who might have just
saved her life.
Book Trailer - https://youtu.be/Y5n7OtrsqqE
Author Interview
Let's get you
introduced to everyone, shall we? Tell us your name.
My name is Marianne
Petit
Question: A little about your self
I am married for
thirty-nine years. I have two sons and four grandchildren ages ten through seventeen
months. I live on Long Island NY.
Question: Tell us your
latest news.
I just finished my
second romantic time travel that goes back to the California Gold Rush of 1850.
The title is Timeless River and with any luck, it will be available in January.
Question: When and why
did you begin writing?
I started writing in
high school after I read numerous romance novels and thought, how hard can it
be. Well, it’s a lot harder to write and finish a book than I thought!
Fiona: What inspired
you to write your first book?
I heard about a PBS
documentary about the Battle of the Little Bighorn and started plotting away.
Questions: How did you
come up with your titles?
For my first book, A
Find Through Time, my heroine finds a skull and then is sent back in time. I
always seem to have some sort of reference to my title in the plot. In my
latest book the heroine refers to her timeless river. In my second book,
there’s a ghost, in my third book they are looking for the amulet of darkness
and in my fourth book everyone is hiding behind a mask.
Question: Do you have
a specific writing style? Is there anything about your style or genre that you
find particularly challenging?
No style. I think as
the years go by, you learn, grow, and the writing changes.
I find writing a
mystery challenging.
Question: How much of the book is realistic and are experiences based on someone you
know, or events in your own life?
Behind the Mask, my
fourth romance book, is based on family and friends who lived in France during
WWII. All my other books are purely fictional.
Question: To craft
your works, do you have to travel? Before or during the process?
Before my second book,
Rebecca’s Ghost I traveled to Williamsburg, VA to get a sense of the buildings
and a feel for the time-period. My third book, Amulet of Darkness is a fantasy
world based on Greek and Roman mythology, so unless I time traveled, LOL, no.
Question: Who designed
the covers?
Two of my books were
done by illustrators, the other ones I designed.
Question: Is there a
message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?
In A Find Through Time
I basically wrote about the plight of the Native Americans and how they
struggled due to circumstances beyond their control.
In Amulet of Darkness,
there are undertones of religious belief.
Behind the Mask’s
message would be how hard war is and let’s not forget all the heroes who fought
for their beliefs and who put their lives in danger saving others.
Rebecca’s Ghost is all
about family.
In my new book,
Timeless River, another time travel that will be out in the fall, my message is
to love yourself and to stand up for your dreams. Sometimes what you wish for
isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Question: Are there any new authors that
have grasped your interest? Who is your
favorite writer, and what is it about their work that really strikes you?
Wow, that’s hard to
say as I have read so many great authors. I am partial to my old critique
partner Mira Platt. I love her style of writing.
Question: Outside of
family members, name one entity that supported your commitment to become a
published author.
My husband is my
biggest supporter…. technically, he’s not a family member so I hope that
counts.
Question: Do you see
writing as a career?
I see writing as a
part of my life I couldn’t do without.
Question: Did you
learn anything during the writing of your recent book?
I learned never to toss
an unfinished story because it’s not working. Put it away, pick it up at a
later date, look at in a different light and start all over again if you have
to. My last book was started years ago and like a string of pearls it was
broken. When I was deciding what to write next, I picked it up, made some
adjustments, looked at it from different angles and now it’s finished and much
better than the first time I started writing it.
Question: If your book
was made into a film, who would you like to play the lead?
Well, I don’t know
many Native American actors, but I would definitely insist on one for A Find
Through Time. For Rebecca’s Ghost, I’d
love to see Pierce Bronson as the dark brooding hero. For Amulet of Darkness, a
nice muscled man like Chris Hemsworth would be awesome. For Behind the Mask,
Tom Cruise and for Timeless River…Liam Hemsworth.
Question: Any advice
for other writers?
If you love writing
don’t give up no matter the criticism, rejections and frustration. Finishing
your manuscript, holding your book in your hand never gets tiring and is a
thrill that makes everything you went through to get to that point worthwhile.
Question: Anything
specific you want to tell your readers?
Well, yes. If you like
a book, please take the time to let the author know. Getting a nice email from
someone who enjoyed your work can make all the difference in an author’s day.
And please, please take the time to write a review, even a short one on Amazon.
With so many author’s books, out on the internet a review is the only way to
get an author recognized.
Question: Is there one
person, past or present, you would love to meet? Why?
I would love to meet
Angelina Jolie because we both do a lot of charity work.
Question: Do you have
any hobbies?
I love to oil paint,
sing with my choir, horseback ride, kayak and go white water rafting.
Question: What TV
shows/films do you enjoy watching?
Outlander and Poldark
are my favorite shows.
Question: Favorite
foods, colors, music?
I’m really not a foodie,
so not sure I have anything that I love. My favorite color is fuchsia and I
love all kinds of music, especially soothing music like Yani
Question: Imagine a
future where you no longer write. What would you do?
I’d be at my easel
painting.
Question: You only
have 24 hours to live, how would you spend that time?
With my family having
fun. I’d probably take them all on a trip together.
Question: Do you have
a blog or website readers can visit for updates, events and special offers?
Find Me Here
– Marianne Petit
Webpage: http://www.mariannepetitbooks.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MariannePetit
Facebook:
Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/Marianne-Petit/e/B002BLOT7G/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.