Word of the Week – Shambles

Word of the Week – Shambles

When we say something is in shambles, we probably have no idea what we’re actually likening it to. Where does this word come from?

Well, shamble began its life in Old English as scamol, meaning a bench or stool. From there,  it began to be used as a table in a marketplace stall (by the 1300s), and then (by the 1400s) particularly one that sold meat or fish, which was when the current spelling began to appear as well.

So for a while, it meant “a place where meat or fish is sold.” Then by the mid-1500s, it evolved into “slaughterhouse.” By the 1590s, it was used metaphorically as “a place of butchery.” But it wasn’t until 1901 that the “butchery” meaning, which was often invoked when things were bloody and gross, began to take on the less-bloody and more-metaphorical meaning of “confusion, mess.” That’s also the point where we began pluralizing it.

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Cover Reveal of The Spy Keeper of Marseille

Cover Reveal of The Spy Keeper of Marseille

It’s Time!

For Another Cover Reveal!!

It’s no secret. Cover reveals are some of my favorite things. And the whole cover design process is a delight to me. (Yeah, I know. I’m a cover designer. This is to be expected, LOL.) 

And one thing I’m loving about working with Tyndale is that they often give me options. As in, they send two covers, with their favorite noted and why, but make it clear if I prefer the other, my opinion counts. That’s lovely.

As with The Collector of Burned Books, I absolutely agreed with their favorite, though in this case, I requested some minor changes to the lighting of the sky, which they quickly did. Now–chef’s kiss! I love it!

But of course, before I share, let me share with you a bit about the book and characters. =D

A woman unlike any other in France…

Zelie Bellarose

Zelie (pronounced zee-lee) is not what anyone would expect. As the wife of a late military officer and mother of two young children, everyone thinks she ought to be spending the war waiting in lines for food and tending her children. But Zelie, with her sharp mind and penchant for organization, isn’t ready to give up the fight after the Nazi invasion. She wants to give her children a France worth growing up in, so she’s been working with another military officer on building France’s largest intelligence network, Alliance.

She never expected to be put in charge of it. But when her superior is arrested, it falls to Zelie to keep Alliance running…and make sure that, at all costs, they keep Britain’s MI6 fed with information.

More than just another musician…

Marcel Laurent

Though a concert pianist at the pinnacle of his career before the war, Marcel couldn’t let his brother and cousins have all the glory. He’d enlisted, joining France’s forces at the Maginot Line…only to end up a POW for over a year. Now Marcel finds himsef released on a prisoner exchange, apparently at the behest of a wealthy industrialist with ties with the fledgling Resistance, brought back to France for one purpose–to be Alliance’s liaison to the arts sector. As the leader of a new youth orchestra, Marcel is able to travel through both free and occupies zones and even send out live messages on their weekly radio program.

He’s happy to do whatever he can for his country. Especially if it means bringing a smile to the lovely face of la patronne–a woman he knows is out of his league, but to whom he’s inexplicably drawn.

An evocative setting

Marseille, 1941

This beautiful Mediterranean city on France’s southern coast was technically in the dubiously-dubbed “Free France,” supposedly outside the Nazis’ control…but that didn’t keep Nazi soldiers and agents from roaming freely to oversee all the French officials and track down the Resistance proving to be a thorn in their side.

Both Marcel’s and Zelie’s families are from the region, so it’s a natural place for Zelie to set up operations; Marseille is the most diverse city in France thanks to its once-bustling seaport, now closed because of the war. Surrounded by rich farmlands and the famed flower fields of Provence, the city still has much to offer…and Alliance is determined to take advantage of it/

Roseanna’s next

World War II Romance

This high-stakes, fast-paced story is based on the real-life adventures of Marie-Madeleine Fourcade, the historical female head of Alliance, France’s largest intelligence network during the war. Her many escapades and close scrapes provided ample inspiration for my fictional Zelie, and Marcel, too, is a mash-up of several historical figures!

Ready? Here it is!
The cover of The Spy Keeper of Marseille!

What do you think??

I LOVE this cover! The gorgeous villa along the coast of the Med, the colors, the back view of Zelie, briefcase in hand yet stylish pumps and hat on…this fits the story and character to a T! In the story, they use a couple different villas as their base of operations, donated to the cause by the families who owned them for Alliance’s use. Airdrops were also an important part of the network’s work, so having the planes up there is perfect too.

The Official Description

Few would suspect a young widow and mother of two small children of being a spy.
Fewer still would believe she leads the largest intelligence operation in France.

Marseille, France, 1941. Zelie Bellerose never fit the mold of an army officer’s wife. She was too passionate in her convictions, too indifferent to societal expectations. After her husband is killed in the war, Zelie focuses on securing a brighter future for her children, hoping to help free her country from the Nazi regime by joining the Resistance. She is soon one of the most trusted operatives in Alliance, and when their leader is imprisoned, she takes command, hiding her identity from all but a few. With enemies closing in, Zelie must earn the trust of her network and prove herself to those who doubt a woman’s place at the helm of the France’s largest spy ring.

Marcel Laurent was a renowned concert pianist before joining the French army and being sent to a POW camp. Freed in a prisoner exchange by a wealthy businessman with ties to the Resistance, Marcel agrees to spy for Alliance by conducting a youth orchestra, gathering intelligence from patrons who are loose-lipped Nazi sympathizers. Marcel’s weekly radio broadcasts introducing the orchestra’s performances give him the perfect cover to send coded messages over the airwaves.

As Zelie and Marcel grow closer through their shared love of music, she begins to rely on him. But betrayal from within Alliance puts everything they’ve fought for at risk. When a double agent infiltrates their ranks and the two are captured, their bond faces its greatest test . . . and any misstep could jeopardize not only Alliance but the very outcome of the war.

Word of the Week – Shampoo

Word of the Week – Shampoo

When we think of shampoo, we have one thing in mind–soap, mostly for the hair. Maybe, if pressed, for other fibrous or shaggy things, like carpet.

But as it turns out, the original meaning has nothing at all to do with hair. Shampoo first began to be used in English in 1760, but it wasn’t a noun at all. It was a verb, meaning “to massage.” It came from the Hindi word champi that meants “to press, to knead the muscles.”

It took until the 1830s for the word to become a noun–but even so, it meant “a massage.” It wasn’t until the 1860s that it began to be associated with hair, for the massaging motion used to wash it. It wasn’t until the 1860s that the word began to be used for “the soap used to wash one’s hair.”

As for carpets, upholstery, etc? That extended meaning of shampooing other things didn’t come around until the 1950s!

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The Magic of Bookstores

The Magic of Bookstores

I live in a rural area. There are towns here and there, but shopping in these towns is hit or miss. We haven’t had a Christian bookstore anywhere in the area for decades. And even regular bookstores are few, far between, and often the size of a postage stamp.

Because of this, I rarely have the chance to go to a bookstore near me. And when I do, they never carry my books, even when requested by locals who want to buy them locally. It’s been disheartening, to say the least.

How strange, then, to introduce myself to the folks in a bookstore on vacation and find something altogether different.

It started many years ago, when I was on vacation one September and musing about a story set in the Outer Banks that I’d written years  before as a contemporary romance. I’d already decided that eventually, I wanted to turn Yesterday’s Tides into a historical. I’d even planted my hero of this story, Remington Culbreth, into my world of Room 40 in the Codebreakers, thinking that eventually, it would be his turn. So every time I was at the beach for nearly twenty years, I’d think about that story again. Wonder how to change it. This particular year, we went to the Graveyard of the Atlantic museum, and I learned about the rich history of the Coast Guard and Live Saving Stations in the area, and the wheels began turning again. Especially when we decided to take the ferry over to Ocracoke.

I knew, the moment we entered the little village, that this was where Yesterday’s Tides was meant to be set, not on the upper islands. And as I learned about the sinking of the Bedfordshire during WW2, I thought, “Man, all the fascinating stuff happened in the Second World War, rather than the First.” So I began to wonder if I could make the story dual-time and have both a WW1 and WW2 line.

We went to the museum on Ocracoke, and that was awesome. I chatted with the ladies in the gift shop for a while, gave them a bookmark (cue them going, “Oh, you’re a REAL author!”) and then headed to one of my prime targets for the visit–the bookshop on the island, called Books To Be Red.

We looked around this magical house-turned-bookstore. We selected a few books we wanted to buy. And as I checked out, I asked the lady behind the counter if I could leave a few bookmarks. She agreed, but with a hesitant look in her eyes. I get that. So I didn’t push, just handed a few over, thanked her for the books, and left the store. My son–not interested in books–was outside on the fun playground equipment she had set up, with my husband, so my daughter and I moseyed over to them, and Xoe started playing too.

A few minutes later, the lady from the shop came running out. She was the owner, Leslie, and had promptly looked up my books from the info on the bookmark. She came over to thank me for coming, saying she didn’t carry a lot of Christian fiction–it doesn’t sell well–but she was happy to meet me. As we got in the car and drove back to the ferry, I pulled out my phone and saw I’d been tagged by her bookstore’s account on social media, thanking me for stopping by.

I’d never been so glad I’d indulged in a few books and dropped off some bookmarks!

A couple years later, I’d sold Yesterday’s Tides to Bethany House and went to Ocracoke again for a week to do in-depth research. I again ended up at Books To Be Red and chatted with Leslie, telling her about the book. This time, her eyes lit up. “That, I’ll be able to sell here!” she said.

And she has. To quote her message, “It’s selling like hotcakes. I can’t keep them in stock.” And when I added The Island Bookshop to my set-at-the-beach list this year, she was quick to stock that too. As did GeeGee, the owner of the bookshop on Hatteras Island, Buxton Village Books–another place we visit every time we’re at the beach.

See, visiting these bookshops is one of my favorite things to do on vacation. Reading at the beach combines two of my favorite things. And since I don’t have a bookstore like this near me at home, I love just wandering among the shelves, breathing in the scent of paper and ink, oohing and ahhing over beautiful editions of classics or new releases I hadn’t realized were out. I love spotting familiar names–because there are always a couple Christian fiction titles amongst the others, beautifully shelved right beside mainstream selections, which I love–or seeing bestsellers I’ve been meaning to pick up but haven’t yet.

We always leave with something. Or in the case of this most recent vacation, a few somethings, LOL.

This year, in addition to visiting the two bookstores at the beach that I know best and love deeply, I was also invited to visit Downtown Books in Manteo and hold a signing during the foot-traffic-rich First Friday event that the town puts on every month. Which means I was in this adorable bookstore for hours (dangerous! My husband left me unattended with all those books! LOL), with ample time to contemplate the magic of it when I wasn’t chatting and laughing with all the people who came in.

And oh my goodness. The magic is real, y’all. I loved every minute of it. I loved the quiet minutes, when the clerk, Chloe, and I were the only ones in the shop. When I could browse the shelves and talk to her about favorite books and pretty edges, when she gave me a sneak peek of a new Jane Austen set that wouldn’t be on sale until Tuesday, when I could dart like a crazy person toward the books I’d decided I had to have and buy them before the next guests made their way through the door.

I loved the busy moments, when customers were in the store, talking to their spouses about this book or that, musing about what they saw. When they teased each other about too many books and not enough shelves. The many times I heard one say to the other, “If you want it, honey, then get it.” (Best kind of spouses!)

And of course, I loved talking to those people as they browsed, and as they came over to my table to see what I had. I had some great conversations with both locals and visitors. I sold lots of books (apparently a First Friday record for the store, so that felt AMAZING!), and of course I hope those wonderful people enjoy them. But more, I had so much fun just existing in a place where books were the order of business for a few hours, talking with people who love reading too.

I loved watching Chloe dart out from behind the counter every time she had a spare moment to shelve the day’s deliveries after she’d scanned them in. It was fun watching her rearrange the tables and shelves to make everything fit, looking around to see what the best place would be for things. I loved hearing her greet each person to come through the doors in a way that welcomes them into the magic.

It was an exhilarating two and a half hours for me. Not just selling books, but being surrounded by them. Talking about them. Connecting with people over the magic of them, even when we hadn’t read the same books. Several times, people asked me what I liked to read, and I would just answer, “Yes.” Which always earned a laugh. Because I do love to read widely. I love hearing their suggestions for me. I love sharing my own.

There’s magic to books–these words that transport us to different worlds. And there’s magic to bookstores–where all those portals coexist in harmony. There’s magic to a place where everyone who enters knows there’s something in there for them, no matter their race or creed or history or circumstances.

I will admit that I buy most of my books online, since I can’t get most of the ones I want locally. And I’ve been spoiled by lower-than-retail prices. I love a bargain. But as an author, I also recognize that the only way authors really make any money, not to mention publishers and bookstores themselves, is when books are sold for full price. So I’ve made it a point to shake myself out of the “bargain book” mindset as much as possible and support the industry I love so much, as well as the independent shop owners who are big part of what makes it possible. I want to be a part of this magic from both sides–not just adding books into it, but supporting other authors too.

Because part of the magic of these places is that they represent so many viewpoints. So many perspectives. They have books on all different topics, many sides of issues, for all tastes. I love that both I and someone politically and socially opposite me can walk into the same store and recognize that magic. We can smile at each other and talk about how much we love to read (or how we wish we had more time for reading), and know that in that store, we’re on common footing. We’re friends. We’re fellow lovers of those portals-to-other-worlds. Maybe we choose different destinations. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we both recognize the importance of the journey.

Yes, I spent more in the stores I went into on vacation than I would have at Amazon. And left with no regrets at all. Because I left knowing that the magic would keep on going, and that I had a part in it. 

Word of the Week – Stigma

Word of the Week – Stigma

As my husband and I were walking along the beach on vacation and talking about…something or another (mental health, maybe?), he was reaching for the word stigma and instead said stigmata, which proved hilarious for the conversation. And also made us stop and go, “Huh. Those are obviously related,” and I figured they both meant mark. Naturally, I had to look it up to make sure I was right!

So, yes. Stigma dates from 1590s with that spelling (and was spelled stigme as early as 1400) and basically meant a brand–“a mark made on the skin by burning it with a hot iron.” (Youch!) It comes from the Latin stigma, which meant “mark of a pointed instrument, puncture, tattoo, or brand.” The root is steig-, which means “to stick” or “pointed,” and itself comes from the Greek word of the same sound and meaning.

Interesting note–stigma is the singular. Plural? You guessed it! Stigmata.

So let’s move to the figurative sense of “a mark of disgrace or infamy.” That is pretty old too, dating from around 1610. Interestingly, the “marks resembling the wounds on the body of Christ that appear supernaturally,” which we today call stigmata, was originally stigmas and dates from 1630 in that form; as early as the 1300s it was in use, but spelled stigmate. The plural Latin stigmata did also begin to be used at the same time and eventually displaced stigmas for that sense, differentiating it from the other forms of marks or brands that got the word.

 

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