Synopsis

INSPIRED BY TRUE STORIES

Which will you sacrifice—the father that raised you, or the nation you adore?

Acadia, 1755. Jeanne LeJeune has always lived between worlds—the fierce daughter of a French merchant and a Mi’kmaw woman, she is torn between the quiet rhythms of village life and the wild heartbeats of her mother’s people. But when her father is seized by English soldiers, her fragile peace shatters.

To win his freedom, Jeanne agrees to guide an English officer through the wilds of Nova Scotia—a choice that entangles her in the coming storm of war. What begins as a wary alliance soon becomes a journey fraught with danger, betrayal, and passion.

As the drums of conflict echo through the untamed heart of the forest, Jeanne must face an impossible choice: betray her heart to save her father or risk everything for the nation who shaped her soul.

Lush, romantic, and unflinching, Like Snow Before Sun captures a love tested by loyalty, loss, and the devastating cost of survival.

Amazon * B&N * Bookshop

Guest Post

Heart versus Hubris: The Tale of Two Brothers in Like Snow Before Sun

By Marianne Rabalais Sulser

Picture the grand stage of the colonial 1750s—a world of powdered wigs, polished boots, and enough intrigue to fill a thousand history books. Enter Harry and George, brothers born with proverbial silver spoons, silk waistcoats, and enough arrogance to sink a frigate. My novel, Like Snow Before Sun, isn’t about two lads with land; but these characters embody an important subplot. They engender a theme that, at its core, delivers a dynamic duel between empathy and ambition, set against the wild backdrop of 18th century empire building. Strap in, dear reader, because this tale is anything but dull.

First, some context: The brothers start life at the top of society’s heap—white, male, landowners, and, let’s be honest, not short on opinions about who should own what. They see a world ripe for conquest, convinced that colonization must surely be improving the endless wilderness. “What’s a little land grab among gentlemen?” they muse. Other cultures? Indigenous peoples? Not on their radar—until the world starts to change, and the empire offers more than just tea and taxes.

Yet, even in a landscape of privilege, the story asks: What do you do when confronted with new cultures, unfamiliar traditions, and the echoing call of conscience? Harry and George, sharing the same upbringing, don’t quite see eye-to-eye. And that’s where the fun begins.

Harry, the reflective sibling, has a knack for seeing beauty in unexpected places—be it the poetry of new languages or the wisdom in ancient traditions. He’s not just a gentleman; he’s a seeker, a wanderer, someone who finds the error of his ways and decides, “Maybe there’s more to life than medals and mustaches.” Think of him as the empire’s unlikely philosopher, the one who considers instead of conquering.

George, meanwhile, is a master of ambition. Greed? He practically invented it. Selfishness? He’s the poster child. While Harry is busy learning and growing, George is plotting, scheming, and making deals faster than you can say “colonial charter.” To him, the world is a chessboard, and every opponent, every land, every culture is just another piece to be captured. Together, they represent the classic sibling rivalry—the clash between heart and hubris, empathy and ego. Harry and George aren’t just brothers; they’re symbols of the eternal struggle between growth and corruption.

Now, let’s get to the delicious twist: in war, the winner gets forgiveness, medals, and maybe even a statue; the loser gets, well, not much—except blame and infamy. The narrative opens with this unsettling truth, inviting you to chuckle (or grimace) at how history loves the morally wrong “winners.” Harry, who follows his conscience, risks everything; his choices mean he’s viewed as a traitor, even though he’s morally right. If this were the real world, he’d be facing a gallows, not a gala.

George, meanwhile, might be cheered on, showered in medals, and written into history books as a “hero.” It’s the kind of irony that would make Shakespeare weep. This isn’t just a narrative device; it’s a challenge to how we see justice, loyalty, and the slippery slope of rationalizing crime.

Harry’s loyalty is a complicated affair—he’s loyal to truth, honor, and a sense of justice that sometimes conflicts with his country. He’s not afraid to stand up, speak out, and risk it all for what’s right. He’s the kind of guy who’d rather lose with honor than win with disgrace. George, on the other hand, has loyalty in spades—but only when there’s something in it for him. He’s all about the empire, the medals, and the glory, and he’ll throw anyone under the carriage to get ahead.

Their divergent beliefs help to give the story its pulse: Harry’s empathy versus George’s ambition, a battle played out across the fields and untamed forests of the New World. It’s a rivalry for the ages—a struggle between the soul and the sword.

So, what’s the takeaway? My intent is to make you laugh, cry, and maybe even squirm as we watch history reward the morally wrong and punish the right. The brothers inspire questions about power, privilege, and the cost of integrity. Is society ready to honor those who act with conscience, or will it forever elevate those who chase glory, regardless of their methods? Like Snow Before Sun urges you to reconsider the heroes we celebrate, the truths we ignore, and the history we forget.

I hope you see the story’s irony and drama as a wake-up call, an invite to look past the medals and monuments and ask: Who really wins, after all? Is victory worth the price of a soul?

About the Author

Marianne Rabalais Sulser the author of “Like Snow Before Sun, (Atmosphere Press, May 12, 2026), is a Louisiana native transplanted to Colorado, but she still likes to laissez les bon temps rouler with her husband and three occasionally well-behaved children.

Website * Instagram * TikTok