Hello again,
Spent the past week fighting a weird summer flu which hasn’t helped my schedule but I’m all better now.
The Huguenot II which is Book 2 of the Huguenot series is what I call “in production” which is to say – the manuscript has been sent to the proof reader and the cover is being designed. Cover design is a cooperative process between me and the expert who has the ‘magic’ technology.
I give the designer ideas for the covers, she tells me whether she thinks they will work. She offers lay-outs, I tweak ideas or suggest alternatives and after a fair amount of back and forth, when I am totally happy, I approve.
I have to say, I couldn’t be more proud of the cover for The Huguenot. In my opinion, it is a brilliant design and an astonishingly dramatic piece of symbolic art all designed by a lady named Christine at The Book Cover Whisperer out of Ohio, who took my idea of the Huguenot cross, and ran with it.
I would love to hear what you the reader think of it.
I must apologize that apparently the website has not been exactly operating as it should be. I hope all the glitches and wrinkles have been ironed out now because I am most looking forward to hearing from you the reader.
Your reactions to the story.
Your level of enjoyment.
Your willingness to recommend this series to others.
And your thoughts on the cover.

Now here is a tiny teaser excerpt from The Huguenot II

“He felt her rejection like a blade cutting across his heart and a wave of hurt washed over him stinging in the wound as alcohol might. He felt his anger growing hot in defense. He had an overwhelming urge to reach over and rip her gown away, exposing her lie for what it was, he knew she wore no clout. In all the years they had been married, he had never known her to lie to him – until now. What had changed? He wanted to shake some reasoning out of her, some logic, some feeling… no, he wanted to shake truth out of her. But he feared where direct confrontation might lead. What if Marie demanded her right to a room of her own? A man could be master of his house but no man was master of a woman’s heart unless she allowed it. And it was not in him to force any woman to share his bed or receive his body against her will. He had noticed the way she had avoided looking at him. There had been a time when she had taken pleasure in looking at his naked body, when she had warmed him with her eyes. Had he now become something loathsome to her? Did she blame him because she had suffered so while carrying Isabelle?
What had happened? Why was he losing her? Why had she become a string of excuses? She was tired, she had a headache, she was indisposed, she was feeling ill, she was in pain. She avoided him, stiffened, and pulled away whenever he touched her, every overture he had made since the baby was born had been solidly rebuffed and yet, when they were around the children, around other people, when he could not in all decency reach out to make love to her, he saw something of love in her eyes when she looked at him. Or at least he thought he did. Or was he crazy? Was he just imagining it because that is what he wanted? What was this torturous game she was playing with him? It was madness. If only she would tell him the truth. The truth!
What does a man do when the woman he loves stops telling him the truth?”

Best regards,
D.C. Force, author