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I have always loved historical fiction. I think I knew I wanted to write historical fiction from the moment I read The Diary of Anne Frank. Long after I read her last diary entry, I was still immersed in her world. The secret to writing is that there is always more than one story floating around most writers’ minds. When I dipped my toe in the writing pool for the first time, I wrote mystery. Then historical fiction. Then romance. The first book I sold to a publisher was a romantic adventure then a romantic suspense and a contemporary romance.
Always at the back of my mind was my fixation with historical fiction. It refused to let me go. For over a decade, I dabbled in the story I knew I wanted to tell but it never seemed to come together like my other books. Mostly because I was afraid I would mess it up. I wanted it to be perfect because I knew that this would be the book of my heart. It was the book I had wanted to write since being introduced to Anne Frank in junior high.
During the pandemic, I started fresh. I was going to tackle this historical fiction novel from a new approach, one I already knew and loved. I decided to write my historical like a suspense novel. From the opening paragraph, I established the backdrop of danger and a ticking clock that didn’t let up until the story’s conclusion. I gave every character a secret that would endanger them if shared with the wrong individual. I used years of research about the spies of World War II to my advantage, stirring intrigue into the pot. Even undercurrents of romance and spice were built in.
Finally, Madame Rebelle came together so fluidly, I knew that it was at last ready for publication. It has truly been a labor of love and I have enjoyed every moment of it. I hope you enjoy this story and these characters as much as I have!
Rebel. Smuggler. Spy.
Champagne, France 1943
Meet Madame Rebelle. Edmee Guillon is a smuggler. She hides people from the German troops surrounding her ancestral home. When a dying man in a German uniform seeks refuge at Maison Boutet, Edmee struggles to believe his claims that he is French. Her life, the maison and the people she loves are already at stake. Can she take the chance that this mysterious spy is who he says he is? And which side of this war is he really on?
Christian Vovk has been betrayed by someone inside his resistance organization. He knows asking the striking young war widow to hide him will put her in certain danger. However, Christian can help Edmee save as many refugees as she can. Falling in love with her will hinder his duty to the operation that brought him to her doorstep in the first place. When love and duty become inevitably tangled, will Christian sacrifice one for the other?
Enjoy an Excerpt
“Go home, Edmée. Do not come back to this part of the woods.”
As the soldier moved away, Edmée couldn’t believe it. They were letting her go?
Just like that?
Her feet tripped over one another as she moved into the trees. That was far easier than it should have been. They hadn’t asked to search her bags. They hadn’t asked what she was doing in the woods in the dark after curfew.
They’d only asked her name.
It made no sense.
She fled, her hands locked around the handles of the suitcases.
She didn’t risk taking her usual path back to Maison Boutet. She weaved and wandered for a while through brambles that caught her clothes and mud that sucked at the bottoms of her boots.
It felt like minutes…or maybe hours before she was back at her uncle’s vineyard.
The cases dangled weightily at the ends of her arms. Her knuckles had been white around them for so long, she could no longer feel them.
The maison was so dark, she failed to distinguish it from the landscape.
She looked at her muddy shoes, her trousers soaked past the ankles. The suitcases would have to be hidden, half of the contents destroyed…
She rushed into the heart of the rows. Her beacon was now the limestone mound with its rough-hewn back to the sky, the entrance to the hidden network of caves underneath the estate.
She wedged past the rocky entrance and stumbled down the steps toward the light.
At the bottom, the barrel of a pistol greeted her.
Her heart slammed into her ribs. Her knees threatened to fold.
She gaped at the man behind the gun.
Christian’s face was red and sweat-sheened. In the lantern’s low throbbing light, his features looked harsh. Moisture cloaked his bare chest like a second skin.
She’d searched him—his clothes, his personal effects… How did he get a gun?
Her lips trembled. She lifted her chin, regardless. The words were rough against her throat. “Are you going to shoot me?”
About the Author: 
Amber Leigh Williams writes pulse-pounding romantic suspense, historical fiction, and contemporary romance. When she’s not writing, she enjoys traveling and being outdoors with her family and dogs. She is fluent in sarcasm and is known to hoard books like the book dragon she is. An advocate for literacy, she is an ardent supporter of libraries and the constitutional right to read.
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