The Never - Ending Book: HFVBT Presents Jan Moran's Scent of Triumph Blog Tour - April 1

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

HFVBT Presents Jan Moran's Scent of Triumph Blog Tour - April 1 - 17

Please join author Jan Moran as she tours the blogosphere with HF Virtual Book Tours for Scent of Triumph: A Novel of Perfume and Passion, from April 1-17, and enter to win an autographed copy!

Publication Date: March 31, 2015

St. Martin’s Griffin

Formats: eBook, Paperback

384 Pages

Genre: Historical Fiction/Romance

When French perfumer Danielle Bretancourt steps aboard a luxury ocean liner, leaving her son behind in Poland with his grandmother, she has no idea that her life is about to change forever. The year is 1939, and the declaration of war on the European continent soon threatens her beloved family, scattered across many countries. Traveling through London and Paris into occupied Poland, Danielle searches desperately for her the remains of her family, relying on the strength and support of Jonathan Newell-Grey, a young captain. Finally, she is forced to gather the fragments of her impoverished family and flee to America. There she vows to begin life anew, in 1940s Los Angeles.

Through determination and talent, she rises high from meager jobs in her quest for success as a perfumer and fashion designer to Hollywood elite. Set between privileged lifestyles and gritty realities, Scent of Triumph is one woman’s story of courage, spirit, and resilience.

Praise for Scent of Triumph

“SCENT OF TRIUMPH [is a] World War II epic.” -Los Angeles Times

“Though romance figures importantly in [SCENT OF TRIUMPH], Danielle’s professional life is most appealing, profiting from perfume expert Moran’s (Fabulous Fragrances, 1994, etc.) authentic experience…The casual demeanor with which Danielle always notices scents in her environment helps establish her character and professional credibility in a charming way…Danielle makes for a strong, unusual heroine who doesn’t always make wise decisions, although her resilience, style and knowledge remain admirable…. [A] historical fiction carried by a complex, resourceful heroine with a nose for business.” -Kirkus Reviews

“Warm and well written, with characters who attract the reader’s sympathy and affection. A lovely story well-told, which will appeal to romantics, fashion and perfume devotees, and fans of historical fiction.” -Amy Edelman, founder of IndieReader.com

Scent of Triumph by Jan Moran

Second half of Chapter 1 excerpt

950 words

Passengers jostled past in the crowded corridor and Danielle could feel anxiety rising in the air like a heat wave, smell the sour perspiration—like coddled milk left in the sun—emanating from panicked, angry passengers. Ordinary perspiration smelled different when tainted with fear. “Rotten Krauts,” they heard people say. She saw Max stiffen against the verbal assaults.

When they came to the open-air promenade deck, Danielle glanced out over the sea, but she could see little in the gathering mist.

Jon followed her gaze. “We’ve got a heavy fog rolling in.”

The air held the ozone-scented promise of rain. “It’s so dim,” she said. “Jon, why aren’t the running lights on?”

“We’re blacked out for security.”

There’s more to it, she thought, her neck tightening with trepidation.

They arrived at the first-class lounge, where tense passengers crowded shoulder to shoulder. Jon excused himself to take his place near the front as the owner representative. A hush spread when the grim-faced captain approached the podium.

“Thank you for your attention,” the captain began. “Two days ago, Hitler’s Nazi Germany violated a European peace agreement. Now, on the wireless we have a reply from the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.”

He nodded to a crew member. The loudspeakers crackled to life and a nervous murmur rippled across the room.

England was on the airwaves.

The radio announcer was speaking about Poland. “Blitzkrieg,” he called the German attack on the country.

“Lightning war,” Max translated, shaking his head. He flexed his jaw, and Danielle could see veins bulging from his temples as he sought to control unfamiliar emotions.

“Oh, no.” Danielle turned her face against Max’s chest, the tentacles of terror slithering into her brain. It has begun, she thought, and so horribly. She trembled. My poor Nicky, dear Sofia. Mon Dieu, what’s happening to them? How frightened they must be.

Max slid a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his, wiping tears from her eyes with an awkward gesture. “It’s my fault, I should have already relocated our family. I didn’t realize this would happen so quickly.”

The tortured guilt in his expression tore at her soul. He has failed. All his plans, all his actions, were to protect our family. She averted her eyes from his pain, trying to calm her breathing as people wailed around her.

The radio crackled again. “And now, Prime Minister Chamberlain.”

“This morning the British ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that, unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us.”

Chamberlain’s voice sounded burdened, yet resolute. “I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently, this country is at war with Germany.”

A collective gasp filled the room, and Danielle sank against Max for support. He wrapped his arms around her, murmuring in her ear. “We’ll find them, they’ll soon be safe.” But is he reassuring me or himself?

At the end of the broadcast, the captain stepped aside and Jon strode to the podium. Jon’s baritone voice boomed over the murmuring tide. “Tomorrow, when we arrive, Newell-Grey agents will be available to assist and accommodate you. We shall keep you informed as we receive additional information.”

Danielle pressed a hand to her mouth. Who knew it would come to this? A sudden clamminess overtook her, and her nausea returned with unbridled force. Tearing herself from Max, she bolted through the crowd, bumping against other passengers as she raced to the outer deck. She reached the railing, leaned over, gulped for air. Her stomach convulsed in a dry heave as the wind whipped the celadon scarf from her neck.

“Danielle,” Max called, following her. Jon rushed after them.

I can’t stand this, she thought, anguish ripping through her as images of Nicky and Sofia filled her mind. Max and Jon reached her side, and the three of them stood gazing through the shifting fog into the bleak waters below as Danielle clung to the railing, one arm clutching her abdomen, pressing her fevered cheek against the cold metal railing for relief

Max draped an arm across her shoulders, rubbing her back, and looked across at Jon. “Her morning sickness is much worse with this pregnancy.”

But Jon’s eyes were fixed on the ocean. His face froze.

A sleek, narrow wake rippled the broken surface.

“What the—” began Max.

“Good God, get down,” Jon bellowed. He leapt across Max and Danielle, his powerful body crashing them to the deck.

Danielle hit the wooden boards with such force that her shoulder cracked and her eyes blurred. My baby, she thought frantically, curling instinctively around her midsection, wrapping her arms around her torso and drawing up her knees to shield her unborn child.

In the next instant, a violent impact shot them across the deck. An explosion ripped into the bowels of the great ship. Screams pierced the haze, and the ship’s massive framework buckled with a roar.

“Torpedoes,” Jon shouted. He crushed his hand over Danielle’s head and cursed under his breath. “Stay down.”

An icy burst enveloped them like a sheet and soaked them to the flesh. Danielle gasped in terror. Mon Dieu! She could hear Max scrambling behind her, sliding on the slippery deck. Protect us, she prayed, keeping her head down and pressing her chin against her chest.

Another explosion rocked the ship. Wood and metal twisted with a grating screech as the ship listed to the starboard side, rolling like a wounded whale. The ship groaned and folded under her own weight, frigid salt water pouring into her open wounds.

Buy Scent of Triumph

About the Author

Jan Moran is a Rizzoli bestselling and award winning author. She writes historical women’s fiction for St. Martin’s Press, contemporary women’s fiction, and nonfiction books. Her stories are smart and stylish, and written with emotional depth. Jan often draws on her international travel and business experiences, infusing her books with realistic details. The Midwest Book Review and Kirkus have recommended her books, calling her heroines strong, complex, and resourceful.

Jan has been featured in numerous publications and on television and radio, including CNN, Women’s Wear Daily, Allure, InStyle, and O Magazine. As an editor and writer, she has covered fragrance, beauty, and spa travel for a variety of publications such as Cosmopolitan, Elle, Costco Connection, and Porthole Cruise.

A perfume and beauty industry expert, she is the creator of Scentsa, a touch screen fragrance finder in Sephora stores.

From Jan: “I love smart and fierce female protagonists. I hope you enjoy these books, and if you’d like to Skype me into your book club meeting, simply send me a message!”

For more information and to sign up for Jan Moran’s newsletter visit her official website. Jan blogs at Jan Moran Writes. You can also find her on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Google+, Goodreads, and LinkedIn.

Special Offer from Jan Moran!

Jan Moran is running a special incentive on her website for a free digital ebook of her new non-fiction book, Vintage Perfumes, to everyone who purchases Scent of Triumph from March 31 to April 30! All you have to do is email your receipt to Jan Moran at janmoranbooks@gmail.com, along with a photo of yourself with the Scent of Triumph book, eBook, or your tablet.