This is a Napoleonic Wars historical fiction story of a brave woman and her friends and lovers, and treachery and danger greet us at every turn as Jeanette tries to fight against the many enemies who would silence her.
During the era of Revolutionary France, Jeanette and her mother are caught in a trap. After they survive the harsh situation, they have little choice but to enter the murky world of low men who would rule France. Navigating such waters is not an easy feat, because even the ones who rise high above their former station harbor secrets, and those secrets can get them and their protégées killed.
Ultimately, Jeanette and Henriette find their final refuge with the dregs of the Earth, the future elite of Napoleon, the French Army stationed in Italy. And there Jeanette finds not only her old, relentless enemies, but war and romance. Will Jeanette survive and find a place in the world of men?
"This is a furiously fast paced and well researched novel of the French revolution. I especially like the way the changing political climate influences the heroine. Definitely going for the sequel!" - Amazon Customer
Jeanette's Sword is a daily seller for 1.5 years now. The rankings are between 20 to 50 k in Amazon.com total sales. Our totlal book sales are some 22 thousand during the past 1.5 years. We have a large marketing budget and a Bookbub ad account.
Dear Marie,
When you read these lines, many years from now, you will be a young lady. By then, you might understand the storm of conflicting emotions one must endure when one’s love and trust have been shaken by unexpected news of betrayal. We all tend to learn of betrayal early in our lives, and perhaps you are no different. Naturally, rage is one of these emotions, and yes, Marie, I was angry yesterday. I was angry beyond words, and hardly able to breathe for it.
You see, a customer visiting our tavern, the Guard’s Cock, a talkative young man called Damon spoke of his past life. You know this fine young man. He told us of his recent employment, and how he adored a young girl of eight. She was the beautiful scion of the noble family of de Courcillions. He missed her.
De Courcillions? Ah, but I knew that name.
I also knew there was only one de Courcillions left in this world, the one whom my daughter married. Imagine that, love, meeting someone who knew of my renegade daughter and her noble husband. Yet it suddenly dawned on us he mainly spoke of their daughter. And that bit of news made us berserk. Understand, love, we did not know there was a small lady called Marie in this world, and that meant the count was no longer the last of his line, had not been for eight bloody years, and it meant your grandfather and I have a grandchild.
Imagine that, Marie, if you can. For eight years, we have been blissfully unaware of you. So, yes, rage and anger followed bewilderment like a corpse follows a cannon shot.
