A Season for her Forbidden Earl by Julia Justiss-review

A Season for her Forbidden Earl (Least Likely to Wed 3) by Julia Justiss-review

Amazon.com / Amazon.ca / B&N / KOBO / Google Play /

ABOUT THE BOOK: Release Date April 23 2024

Step into 1830s London as a lady gets her second-chance Season!

Determined to stay a spinster

For her second Season!

When an unexpected windfall gives Lady Margaret the chance for another Season, she relishes the opportunity to see her friends again, including Julian Randall, Earl of Atherton. She has no need to find a husband, and widower Julian has sworn off the marriage mart, so escorting each other is the perfect platonic arrangement. Until a new, exhilarating attraction simmers between them—one this respectable spinster is forbidden from indulging in…isn’t she?

••••••

REVIEW:You can always rely on a good story from this author, her descriptive narrative and characters will have you reading until the last page is read 😊

Lady Margaret d’Aubignon created a scandal when she publicly refused a suitor her father had chosen for her (it was one of his friends!) so she was sent to the countryside. But unbeknownst to her father, her brother had invested her inheritance, and she now had more than enough money to be independently wealthy. Returning back to the city without her fathers support is something Margret is ecstatic about. Catching up with her friends is something she’s looking forward to.

A friends to lovers read that has all the historical information and (Slow burn) romance that I come to expect from the author.

So will this friendship with no “benefits” become more?

Margret has her escort for the correct society requirements, they can laugh and chat without having to worry that it’s a courtship. But doesn’t that negate the society’s reason for being? It’s to find a husband surely? And what if Julian’s needs for a wife? Being around Margret all the time must stifle his chances of a bride? Well actually no, being a widower gives him breathing space, he can use the sadness he still feels about his wife to avoid the marriage trap (for a while at least.)

Julian never felt real emotion for his wife, and that’s something he struggles with, along with his two sons, but feelings for his “friend” Margret has him thinking that marriage the second time around might be easier. But how to broach the subject without frightening his friend away has him in a quandary!

This is the third book in the series, it’s not necessary to read the other two before this one, but there is a series of events that occur in the three books that might be a little confusing.

I liked both Margret and Julian, they had a depth of character that pulls you into the story. The friendship that slowly turns into something else.

There is a little angst and a little betrayal, but I think it adds a little something to the book, otherwise it’s just another historical romance.

If you love your historical romance with marvellous characters and a good storyline, then give this book a look. You won’t be disappointed.

Click HERE for Julie’s review of book one A SEASON OF FLIRTATION

Copy supplied for review

Reviewed by Julie B. 🦋

Award-winning historical romance author Julia Justiss has written more than thirty-five novels and novellas set in the English Regency and the Texas Hill Country.

A voracious reader who began jotting down plot ideas for Nancy Drew novels in her third grade spiral, Julia has published poetry and worked as a business journalist.

She and her husband live in East Texas, where she continues to craft the stories she loves. Check her website for details about her books, chat with her on social media, and follow her on Bookbub and Amazon to receive notices about her latest releases. For special subscriber giveaways, discounted books, character sketches and more, sign up for her newsletter at:

https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h7r3n5

Website: www.juliajustiss.com
Twitterhttps://twitter.com/juliajustiss
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JuliaJustissAuthor
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/juliajustiss/
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-justiss
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/juliajustissauthor/
Amazon Author: https://amzn.to/2RK34RO
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/63842.Julia_Justiss

Share

A SEASON OF FLIRTATION   by Julia Justiss-review and giveaway

A SEASON OF FLIRTATION (Least Likely to Wed 1)  by Julia Justiss-review and giveaway

 

 

Amazon.com / Amazon.ca / B&N / KOBO / Chapters Indigo / Google Play /

ABOUT THE BOOK: Release Date January 24, 2023

Her lessons in flirtation…

Could work too well!

When Lady Laura Pomeroy offers to give her friend lessons on surviving the Season, she doesn’t expect her friend’s brother to join! 

Banker Miles Rochdale is dubious of the aristocracy and clearly thinks Laura is shallow and silly. Frustratingly, mathematical genius Laura finds herself attracted to him, and will enjoy challenging his assumptions! But, as a Marquess’s daughter, there’s no point impressing Miles because she’ll never be allowed to marry trade…

••••••

REVIEW: The first book in a new series, from an author that I really like. She captures historical romance really well. 

A slow burn or sweet romance (not much if any spicy moments) that will have you wishing for gowns and afternoon teas ? 

Lady Laura knows exactly how to behave in society, becoming a lady had been a minefield, if it hadn’t been for her two best friends. Laura would have failed miserably, so she wants to help anyone entering the ‘ton society. 

Miles Rochdale isn’t liking the idea of a socialite educating his naive sister in the ways of flirting and ensnaring a suitor and a marriage proposal. It’s bringing back bad memories of when he was targeted and dumped by a socialite, so he has the notion of interacting with Lady Laura to judge her character. 

But the more they spend time together, the more they come to realise they have so much in common…..

Miles has to accept that Laura only wants the best for his sister. And Laura has to put down her mathematical equations sometimes and interact with more than just her best friends. 

I really like Laura, she was such a sensitive and sensible character. She’s also a math nerd, so that makes her socially awkward. 

Miles is an overprotective big brother, which is a big plus in my book.

And Susanna (Miles’ sister) is such a cute character, she’s an innocent in a bad world and needs protecting. But the more I read of her, the more I think she’s trying to matchmake between her brother and her new friend. 

And we get to meet her best friends, who support and advise her along the way. (And I’m hoping they each get a book) 

So can they buck the rules and be together, or will society break this unconventional couple up? A lady can’t marry beneath her station, can she? And what happens when Laura finds out Miles is promised to someone else? 

If you love sweet romances then this book is a must for you. 

And I can’t wait to read the next one in this series. 

Copy supplied for review

Reviewed by Julie B ?

Award-winning historical romance author Julia Justiss has written more than thirty-five novels and novellas set in the English Regency and the Texas Hill Country.

A voracious reader who began jotting down plot ideas for Nancy Drew novels in her third grade spiral, Julia has published poetry and worked as a business journalist.

She and her husband live in East Texas, where she continues to craft the stories she loves. Check her website for details about her books, chat with her on social media, and follow her on Bookbub and Amazon to receive notices about her latest releases. For special subscriber giveaways, discounted books, character sketches and more, sign up for her newsletter at:

https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h7r3n5

Website: www.juliajustiss.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/juliajustiss
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JuliaJustissAuthor
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/juliajustiss/
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-justiss
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/juliajustissauthor/
Amazon Author: https://amzn.to/2RK34RO
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/63842.Julia_Justiss

Julia Justiss  is graciously offering a paper copy (US/Canada) or ebook (international) of A SEASON OF FLIRTATION to ONE (1) lucky commenter at The Reading Cafe.

1. If you have not previously registered at The Reading Cafe, please register by using the log-in at the top of the page (side bar) or by using one of the social log-ins.

NOTE: If you are having difficulty commenting after logging onto the site, please refresh the page (at the top of your computer).

2. If you are using a social log-in, please post your email address with your comment.

3. Please LIKE & follow Julia Justiss on Facebook

4. Please Follow Julia Justiss on Goodreads

5. Please LIKE / FOLLOW The Reading Cafe on FACEBOOK

6. LIKE / follow The Reading Cafe on Twitter for an additional entry.

7. Please FOLLOW The Reading Cafe on GOODREADS for an additional entry.

8. Please follow The Reading Cafe on Tumblr

9. Giveaway  paper (US/Canada) or ebook  (internationally)

10. Giveaway runs from February 11-15, 2023

Share

The Explorer Baroness by Julia Justiss-Review & Giveaway

The Explorer Baroness by Julia Justiss-Review & Giveaway

 

 

Amazon.com / Amazon.ca / B&N / KOBO / Chapters Indigo / Google Play /

ABOUT THE BOOK: Release Date October 26, 2021

He’s the wealthiest nobleman

She’s a risk to his reputation!

Gregory Lattimer is well aware Charis Dunnfield is not the Society bride this Baron’s son needs to restore his family’s tarnished reputation. She is scandalising the ton – living mostly in Constantinople and running her father’s antiquities business! Gregory must settle for her friendship instead – and her help vetting other potential brides for him – until she voyages East again. But will any deb match up to Charis?

••••••••••

REVIEW:  Gregory Lattimer is eldest son of Baron Vraux, and he’s taken of the family reigns as Baron. His father is still very much alive, but has given up the Barony to pursue his love of artefacts.

Meeting the lovely Charis Dunnfield whilst clearing debts run up by his father, has Gregory at somewhat of a quandary! He’s totally enamoured with the miss, but she’s not the right kind of lady this Baron needs to socialize with, let alone think of courting!

Charis doesn’t worry what the social gossips thinks of her. She happier helping her father run his antiques business anyway! But meeting Gregory has her thinking she could be a little more lady like! But it’s too late anyway.

Friendship is better than nothing right? Well Gregory is totally in the “friend zone” and has to endure as more “suitable” ladies are sent his way to be vetted as the next Baroness!

Third book in this historical romance series, and I like this one the best. It’s easily read without the other two. Nicely written, plot easy to follow, low on angst and two characters you wanted to like and you do. Gregory is not a rake or a rogue, and hard working chap who has taken on the family name and mantle to give his father the chance to enjoy his “hobby”. Charis although a little self centred is a pretty decent young lady. There is a slow-slow-slow burn to this romance, but the plot carries it along quiet nicely, and as I’ve read this author a few time now, I wasn’t expecting fireworks.

So will Gregory and Charis remain friends? Will he watch as she sails away? Or will he grab what he so desperately desires?

Copy supplied for review

? Reviewed by Julie B

Award-winning historical romance author Julia Justiss has written more than thirty-five novels and novellas set in the English Regency and the Texas Hill Country.

A voracious reader who began jotting down plot ideas for Nancy Drew novels in her third grade spiral, Julia has published poetry and worked as a business journalist.

She and her husband live in East Texas, where she continues to craft the stories she loves. Check her website for details about her books, chat with her on social media, and follow her on Bookbub and Amazon to receive notices about her latest releases. For special subscriber giveaways, discounted books, character sketches and more, sign up for her newsletter at:

https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h7r3n5

Websitewww.juliajustiss.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/juliajustiss
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JuliaJustissAuthor
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/juliajustiss/
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-justiss
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/juliajustissauthor/
Amazon Author: https://amzn.to/2RK34RO
Goodreadshttps://www.goodreads.com/author/show/63842.Julia_Justiss

Julia Justiss  is graciously offering an ecopy of THE EXPLORER BARONESS to TWO lucky commenters at The Reading Cafe.

1. If you have not previously registered at The Reading Cafe, please register by using the log-in at the top of the page (side bar) or by using one of the social log-ins.

NOTE: If you are having difficulty commenting after logging onto the site, please refresh the page (at the top of your computer).

2. If you are using a social log-in, please post your email address with your comment.

3. Please LIKE & follow Julia Justiss on Facebook

4. Please Follow Julia Justiss on Goodreads

5. Please LIKE / FOLLOW The Reading Cafe on FACEBOOK

6. LIKE The Reading Cafe on Twitter for an additional entry.

7. Please FOLLOW The Reading Cafe on GOODREADS for an additional entry.

8. Please follow The Reading Cafe on Tumblr

9. Giveaway is open internationally

10. Giveaway runs from November 5-10, 2021

Share

THE RANGER by Julia Justiss -Review, Excerpt & Giveaway

THE RANGER (The McAllister Brothers 3) by Julia Justiss-Review, Excerpt & Giveaway

 

Amazon.com / Amazon.ca / B&N / KOBO / Chapters Indigo / Google Play /

ABOUT THE BOOK: Release Date July 27, 2021

He can’t resist a puzzle…

When Texas Ranger Brice McAllister spies a sexy woman in short shorts gardening in her backyard, he can’t help but flirt. She shuts him down hard, and Brice is astonished when he realizes this alluring woman is also the aloof and dowdy librarian—complete with thick-framed glasses and a shapeless dress—who helped him research land deeds earlier that day. He’s instantly intrigued and sets to discover more—namely, why she’s clearly hiding herself.

She can’t attract attention…

After one side of her crime family is involved in her fiancé’s death, Maria Giordano puts half a continent between herself and her L.A. home and family. She moves to Whiskey River and reinvents herself as “Mary,” a serious and plain librarian. Her only indulgence is her garden and cooking with her neighbor’s young daughter. And then she meets Brice.

Maria has every reason to avoid and resent a man with a badge, but when she needs protection, the last man she thinks she can trust is the first one she turns to.

••••••••••

REVIEW: Book three in this series. You don’t need to read the previous two stories, they all stand on their own. But we do have an ongoing story from the previous books (but not really necessary to read them as we are given a brief summary of what went on)

Brice is the youngest and the last single McAllister brother.Home whilst he waits to testify in a case he was working, he’s a Texas Ranger, and loves the job.And while Brice is visiting his brothers he’s going to look into a few things for his brothers.He has no intention of settling down on the ranch with his brothers, well that is until he meets a frosty young librarian…..

Maria now goes by the name of Mary. She’s keeping a low profile. She’s hiding from her family! Why? Well it’s a long story, and it’s one she’s not willing to share.

Brice has to try hard to win her trust, and it’s not easy, there are many times she’s wants to bolt. But when danger comes knocking on her door, Brice is the only one she thinks to turn too!

I have to admit, I probably liked this one better than the last two.Brice was just so patient with her.I also liked how Mary was around her neighbour and young daughter.The suspense was pretty good too, you know someone or something is going to happen to Mary.It was great catching up with his brothers and their lives.

Slow burn romance that focuses on the interaction of two people, rather than the physical side of this relationship. And the story holds up pretty well without too much smut coming into play.

Can Mary trust Brice enough to tell him of her past?

Your going to have to read the book to find out?

Reading Order and Previous Reviews
The Rancher
The Cowboy

Copy supplied for review

? Reviewed by Julie B

 

With a satisfied sigh, Brice McAllister finished the last of his take-out burger and leaned back in the Adirondack chair on the deck of his brother Grant’s newly refurbished cabin, sipping a soda water and admiring the view across the Balcones hills and down to the narrow valley through which the creek ran.
“Got to admit, Great Grandad chose a prime site to build his cabin,” he said to his brother Duncan, who dropped his lean frame into a chair beside him. “Can see practically to three counties from here.”
“Course, when he built it, there were still Comanche raids in the area as well as marauding outlaw bands,” Duncan said. “He needed to be able to see to three counties to protect his family.”
“I’m just glad Grant decided to redo the place. It’s a showpiece.”
“Credit my lovely wife,” Grant said, coming out to join them. “The grunt labor of ripping out floors and walls, drywall, painting and finishing was mine, but the touches that make it so special are all her.”
“She’s a terrific designer,” Duncan said. “The place is modern and comfortable, but it’s still a cabin. Nothing frou-frou or cutesy, despite being furnished by a girl.”
“Speaking of wives, did you married guys get a special dispensation from your better halves to allow you meet for lunch here today? I mean, now that you can’t come and go when you please,” Brice said, adding a “bauk-bauk-bauk” chicken sound imitation.
“He’s inferring we’re hen-pecked,” Duncan said to Grant.
“Nah, he’s just jealous. Because we go home to two beautiful, hot, talented babes at night and he just has an empty condo in Austin,” Grant replied. “So sad. Not even a dog to keep him company.”
“Well, he’s the youngest. He always was a little slow,” Duncan said, grinning.
“If I weren’t so comfortable in this chair, I’d get up and whup you,” Brice said.
“You could try, but I wouldn’t advise it,” Grant said.
“Hmm… Recon Marine or Texas Ranger…which one would I put my money on?” Duncan mused.
“Enough brotherly mutual admiration,” Brice said dryly. “I’ve just finished up a case and am cooling my heels, waiting to be summoned to testify at the trial, so I thought I’d rummage around and see if I can turn up anything on those harassment incidents you’ve told me about.”
“I’d bet you anything Marshall Thomason is behind them,” Duncan said.
“Just because the two of you have detested each other since high school isn’t enough reason to put him under surveillance,” Brice said.
“Maybe not, but something isn’t right there,” Duncan said. “Is it only coincidence that Harrison started having all sorts of problems—fence lines cut, brush damning up creeks—after she inherited the Triple A? With Thomason approaching her in his slick rich-boy way, commiserating on how hard it was for a city girl with no experience to try to carry on her Daddy’s ranch, and how he’d be happy to take it off her hands for a good price if she decided to go back to her accountant’s job in Dallas?”
“And there have been more incidents since you two got hitched and reunited the two parts of the Triple A,” Grant said. “Worst of which was losing Halsey.”
Duncan shook his head. “Her father’s prize herd bull, who was almost like a pet. She still hasn’t gotten over the shock of finding him dead on the road after a gate was “somehow” left open. Brice, you know none of us would leave a gate open, ever, especially not one near a road with blind curves and 18-wheeler traffic. We’re just lucky the truck driver wasn’t killed too.”
“If it weren’t for Grant’s wife’s great ideas about using the Scott Ranch house as a conference center, bringing in some additional income, we would be in a pretty difficult situation, losing Halsey’s stud fees. We were counting on them for a lot of our operating cash over the next several years,” Duncan said.
“Thomason’s been nosing around all the ranchers, trying to get ones teetering on the brink of solvency to sell out,” Grant added.
“Maybe so,” Brice allowed. “That still doesn’t provide proof that he’s guilty of anything except wanting to build condos on every piece of land in the Hill Country that boasts a fine view.”
A chorus of disgusted groans met that observation. “So far only some of the low-landers have sold out. Good ranch land, but not the vistas like this one that would inspire the moneybag lawyers and doctors from Austin and San Antonio to buy the property for their weekend getaway houses,” Grant said.
“True,” Brice said. “So why would he want that land? It’s not like he can build some big housing development out in the middle of nowhere. The roads from Whiskey River aren’t wide enough and the speed limits are too low for people to want to live here and commute into San Antonio or Austin.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him to do it out of sheer meanness,” Duncan said. “And the satisfaction of thinking he can get away with it.”
“Maybe,” Brice said. “But I’m thinking something about land must be the key, if he is behind it. I thought I’d stop by the Whiskey River library later and look at the maps and property records. They have copies of some of the deed books from the county records office in Johnson City.”
“Go for it, little brother,” Grant said. “I should finish stringing the rest of the electric wire on the road-side boundary fences this week, so at least we’ll know immediately if we have any more breaks. I’ve been thinking about installing some security cameras pointed at the gates, too. Although someone bent on mischief could just cut the fences; they wouldn’t need to open a gate.”
“It might be worth it. Sometimes just having the bad guys know you’ve added surveillance is enough to convince them to attack someone else,” Brice said.
Finishing up his water, Grant said, “Speaking of fencing, I’d better get back to work. Unlike you law enforcement wusses, who can lounge around waiting on court dates, we ranchers have to work every day.”
“Why do you think he went into law enforcement?” Duncan said, grinning.
Brice gave him a narrow look. “Maybe I need to whup you instead of Grant. Yeah, we’re wusses alright. Only have to get up before dawn and stay out all hours on a stake out, tracking the bad guys through pouring rain or in the icy darkness, and getting shot at by hostage-taking crazies.”
Duncan and Grant sobered, exchanging looks. “We were sorry to hear about Tad. Seriously, we appreciate what you do, protecting us. And the dangers you face. Take care of yourself, won’t you?”
“Always. Sorry to be touchy. It’s only been a week since the funeral, though.”
He’d lost one of his best friends from police academy days ten days ago—shot in the face while doing a routine traffic stop for a burned-out tail light. But the driver had been a mule for a drug dealer, and panicking about being pulled over, had opened fire as soon as Tad tapped on his window.
The cost of the game. All the brothers knew that Brice, detailed out of the Texas Ranger Special Operations Division in Austin and a sharpshooter when a SWAT squad was called out, could be the one in the sights of a gun-toting criminal some day.
“Well, thanks for meeting me for lunch,” Brice said, trying to return to a more up-beat mood.
“Will you be around Whiskey River for awhile?” Duncan asked.
“A few days, probably. Might as well stay here rather than go back to Austin. It’s a shorter drive to the courthouse in Johnson City.”
“You’re welcome to bunk in at the house,” Duncan offered.
“Or stay here at the cabin,” Grant said.
“Hmm… take up residence with one of my newlywed brothers? Probably not. I might camp up at our old site on the ridge. Or I could get a room at Hell’s Half Acre B&B downtown, where I could walk to the diner or Booze’s or the steak house if I’m wanting something fancy.”
Grant grinned. “That might be fitting. The swinging single dude staying in a former bordello.”
Duncan shook his head. “You might not want to stay with us, but you know our lovely wives are at least going to want to feed you if you stay in the area.”
“Well, I might not turn down an invite to some meals.”
“I should think not,” Duncan said. “I do a better steak than Barron’s and Grant makes some mean tacos and enchiladas.”
“Dinners for sure, then, “ Brice said. “I’ll text you and let you know my plans.”
The threesome rose and carried their drinks and takeout bags back into the cabin. “We’ll look to see you again soon, then, little brother,” Duncan said.
“Thanks for hosting us for lunch at the cabin,” Brice said. “It’s still the best view in three counties.”
“Anytime,” Grant said. “With you chasing the bad guys all over central Texas, we don’t get to see you all that often.”
“Well, I’ll try not to hang around long enough for you to tire of my company,” Brice said.
“Good luck at the library,” Duncan said. “I hope you turn up something useful.”An hour later, after checking into a room at the B&B and parking his truck in the lot, Brice blew out a breath of relief as he walked into the cool air-conditioned dimness of the Whiskey River library. Even at midday, the high ridge on which Grant’s cabin was located got a good breeze, and sitting in the shade on the deck, being outdoors was still pleasant. After walking two blocks in town from the B&B, with no breeze and heat rising in waves off the roads and sidewalks, the air conditioning felt great.
Not that he’d ever admit it to his brothers, he thought, smiling, unless he wanted to get ribbed about going soft. They’d all grown up cutting hay, chasing down stray cows, and mending fencing all through the year. Ranch work didn’t stop for weather, whether the stifling heat of late summer or the cold driving rain of January. His boyhood spent in the open had prepared him well for August two-a-day football practices in high school, too.
But being able to tolerate the heat and enjoying it were two different things.
Though, being off duty, he wasn’t wearing a badge, most of the patrons in the reading room still looked up as he walked over to the librarian’s desk. A broad-shouldered former offensive lineman who stood six foot, six, in jeans, boots, western shirt and signature white Stetson, tended to attract attention even without the Ranger star on his chest.
Most of patrons here, though, were long-time residents he knew well, who, respecting the library silence rules, threw him a wave or a nodded rather than calling out a greeting. Walking up to he desk, he doffed his hat and smiled at Shirley Lane, who’d been the head librarian as long as he could remember.
“Hi, Miss Shirley. How are you?” he said in a low voice.
“Why Brice McAllister, as I live and breathe! My, you’re looking good—all grown up and a Texas Ranger!” She shook her head.
“Yeah, I expect you thought I would end up behind bars rather than holding the keys,” he teased.
“Now you three boys kicked up some larks growing up, but I always knew you were good kids. How have you been?”
“Doing fine. And you?”
“Well, it’s been a bit lonely since I lost Warren, but I’m managing. What brings you in?”
“I want to look at the old and current county maps. Then match them up to the deeds of ownership and maybe tax records of income tax paid on mineral rights. Where would I find those?”
“The maps are all kept in the reference room. Some of them are fragile, so I’m afraid you can’t borrow them. But you’re welcome to look at them and take any notes you want. The original deeds and tax records are at the County Courthouse in Johnson City, but for a small fee, you can access them online.”
“Great. Let me pay you the fee, and then I’ll go look at the maps. In the reference room, you said?”
“Yes. Mary Williams is the reference librarian. Tell her what you need and she’ll pull out the maps for you.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat.
“You need anything else, just let me know.”
After paying his fee and thanking Shirley for her help, he walked down a short hallway to the reference room, where rare or fragile or historic books and records were kept. In addition to walls of bookshelves and cabinets with wide, shallow drawers that held the maps, the room contained tables and chairs where patrons could sit while they viewed the materials, several of them also holding desktop computers linked into the library internet system.
The room was empty except for a dark-haired woman who was facing way from him, replacing some books onto a shelf. “Hello, ma’am,” Brice called out when he walked in, not wanting to startle her. “Miss Shirley said you’d help me find some maps.”
The woman turned toward him. “Certainly, sir. Which maps do you need?”
Her name hadn’t rung a bell, and when she turned to face him, he confirmed that he had never met her. Tall for a woman, which made the top of her head reach about to his chin. Lustrous dark hair pulled back severely into a bun. Dark eyes that might be pretty, although the heavy dark-rimmed glasses she wore made it difficult to tell. Skin with a slight olive tint said she might be Hispanic, despite the bland Anglo name. Which might have been a married name, except Brice noted she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
She was, however, wearing a dark, shapeless, long-sleeved dress out of some sort of material that looked like burlap that might just be the ugliest thing he’d ever seen on a woman. Though by her unlined face and air of vitality, he’d estimate her to be about his own age–late-twenties, maybe, the granny-hairdo and unattractive clothing made her seem older.
Smiling, he held out his hand. “Brice McAllister, Miss Williams. I grew up around here—you may know my brothers, Duncan and Grant, who run our family place, the Triple A ranch. I don’t recall seeing you around town before, so you must be new here.”
She gave him a brief smile, but didn’t shake his hand. “I’ve worked at the library for about a year. Now, what was it you wanted me to find for you, Mr. McAllister?”
He didn’t consider himself irresistible to women, but Brice usually got a warmer response to an introduction and a smile than that.
O-kay, so she didn’t do friendly. Must be from a big city somewhere. Taking the time to say hello and chat briefly when you encountered someone was pretty much the minimum standard of politeness in a small town like Whiskey River.
But he could do all-business, too, if that was what she preferred.
“I’d like to look at all the city and county maps, from the first surveys to the last. Also access deed records and property taxes, which Miss Shirley told me I could do online. I paid her the fee.”
She nodded. “If you’ll have a seat at one of the tables, I’ll locate the maps and bring them over, along with the network password and the internet address for the county deeds and records office.”
He did as instructed, choosing a table near the window where the light would be good. Once he had the map location and owners pinned down, he could check to see whether taxes had ever been paid for mineral rights on any of the properties. There were lucrative deposits of oil and gas all over Texas, the nearby Permian Basin containing one of the largest.
He could understand Marshall Thomason wanting to buy out ranchers who might be sitting on valuable oil reserves, but as far as he knew, there was no guarantee the Triple A had any. They had certainly never authorized any company to explore and find out. So why would Thomason want their land?
Maybe he didn’t. Maybe, if he was in fact behind the incidents, it was just pure meanness, trying to aggravate a man his name and status didn’t impress, who’d never shown him the deference Thomason felt his wealth and his important family connections deserved.
With nothing to do but wait, Brice found himself watching Miss No Nonsense Librarian. With her severe hairdo, glasses and ugly dress, she could be a caricature of the Old Maid Librarian. What had soured her on life? he wondered.
Her demeanor might shout “old maid—men stay away” but her movements were graceful, almost athletic. Brice wondered if she’d been a gymnast or a dancer. Certainly she balanced the wide, unwieldy maps she was extracting from the map case with ease. He caught himself before he invited a snub by asking if he could give her a hand.
Miss Williams would probably tell him, with a disapproving stare, that she was fully capable of Doing It All Herself.
The occupational hazard of law enforcement—meeting someone, he instinctively began to evaluate them, figure out their background, decide whether the way they presented themselves matched their appearance. Miss Mary Williams was something of a puzzle. But he figured if the woman had had a bad experience with men and wanted to avoid them, becoming a reference librarian where she dealt mostly with dusty maps and moldy papers was probably an excellent occupation.
Dressing like she did, too, would eliminate any second looks that might notice the pretty eyes and dark hair and prompt a man to try to get to know her better.
A few minutes later, after extracting a card from her desk drawer and scrawling a note on it, she brought the maps over and spread them carefully on a table adjacent to the one he’d chosen with the computer.
“Some of the maps are too large to fit on the computer table, so I’ll leave them here. You can review them and move over to do your online search. Here’s the password and IP address.” She handed him the card. “You may view the maps for as long as you like, or until the library closes. As I’m sure Miss Shirley told you, reference materials can’t be checked out. Just leave them on the table when you are finished. I’ll put them away later.”
“Thank you, Miss Williams,” he said, trying another smile.
Which received no more response than the first. Returning a short nod, Mary Williams walked back to her desk and back to her work, doing an excellent job of ignoring him.

For next few hours, Brice looked over maps, checked the deed and tax records online and made some notes. Only a few of the farms and ranches on the back road along which Duncan told him Thomason had purchased properties had ever recorded paying taxes on mineral rights or royalties. Even on those, the amounts paid were low, indicating that the area probably wasn’t rich with easily obtainable oil and gas. If the reserves on the ranches that had been tapped were modest, there was less likelihood that a neighboring property would contain a big enough bonanza of oil, gas, onyx or gypsum to make it worthwhile for Thomason to purchase it.
Of course, he’d only done a cursory search. Warranty deeds for property that didn’t specifically mention the mineral rights supposedly indicated those rights belonged to the property owners. But sometimes, previous owners leased or sold mineral rights without filing a separate mineral rights deed, leaving the status of the mineral rights cloudy, even if the new owner had a valid warranty deed. New landowners in Texas were always advised to have a detailed title search done before they tried to exploit any mineral assets on their property, a laborious and often expensive proposition.
Given the little he’d uncovered, he didn’t think it probable that Thomason, more concerned about his own profits than enriching anyone else, would have wanted to hire the expensive expertise of a “landman,” a specialist whose sole job was to trace out mineral rights from surface property rights, usually on behalf of an oil or gas company interested in drilling on the property.
The only thing the properties possessed in common was a border along the county road that formed the western barrier of the Triple A. Which, his instincts told him, if Thomason were trying to sabotage operations and make the Triple A so unprofitable that Duncan and Grant were forced to sell off part of the land, it didn’t appear to have anything to do with mineral rights.
Still, the fact that the property bordered the Triple A made him suspect that, if there were in fact harassment and Thomason was behind it, the reason still had to be something about the land. Though he had no idea what.
Standing, he stretched out his back, stiff from bending over the maps, and walked over to the reference desk, where Miss Williams sat working on a desktop computer. “I’m finished with them, ma’am,” he said. “Sure I can’t bring them over to the desk for you?”
“No, thank you, I’d prefer to handle them myself.”
Miss Shirley would have asked him if he’d found what he needed, or whether she could get him something else, or at least bid him goodbye. Mary Williams, after giving him another short nod he took as a dismissal, returned her attention to her computer and went back to ignoring him.
It shouldn’t have annoyed him—what did it matter whether Whiskey River’s reference librarian liked him or not? But her barely polite demeanor and extreme disinterest seemed…deliberate, somehow. Not antagonistic, exactly, but…wary.
Why should a woman he’d never met before be wary of him?
The question tweaking his lawman’s curiosity even further, with a frown, he walked out.

 


 

Award-winning historical romance author Julia Justiss has written more than thirty-five novels and novellas set in the English Regency and the Texas Hill Country.

A voracious reader who began jotting down plot ideas for Nancy Drew novels in her third grade spiral, Julia has published poetry and worked as a business journalist.

She and her husband live in East Texas, where she continues to craft the stories she loves. Check her website for details about her books, chat with her on social media, and follow her on Bookbub and Amazon to receive notices about her latest releases. For special subscriber giveaways, discounted books, character sketches and more, sign up for her newsletter at:

https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h7r3n5

Websitewww.juliajustiss.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/juliajustiss
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JuliaJustissAuthor
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/juliajustiss/
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-justiss
Instagramhttps://www.instagram.com/juliajustissauthor/
Amazon Author: https://amzn.to/2RK34RO
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/63842.Julia_Justiss

 

Julia Justiss  is graciously offering an ecopy of THE RANGER  to TWO lucky commenters at The Reading Cafe.

1. If you have not previously registered at The Reading Cafe, please register by using the log-in at the top of the page (side bar) or by using one of the social log-ins.

NOTE: If you are having difficulty commenting after logging onto the site, please refresh the page (at the top of your computer).

2. If you are using a social log-in, please post your email address with your comment.

3. Please LIKE & follow Julia Justiss on Facebook

4. Please Follow Julia Justiss on Goodreads

5. Please LIKE / FOLLOW The Reading Cafe on FACEBOOK

6. LIKE The Reading Cafe on Twitter for an additional entry.

7. Please FOLLOW The Reading Cafe on GOODREADS for an additional entry.

8. Please follow The Reading Cafe on Tumblr

9. Giveaway is open internationally

10. Giveaway runs from  August 7-11, 2021

Share

The Railway Countess by Julia Justiss-Review, Excerpt & Giveaway

The Railway Countess (Heirs in Waiting 2) by Julia Justiss-Review, Excerpt & Giveaway

Amazon.com / Amazon.ca / B&N / KOBO / Chapters Indigo / Google Play /

ABOUT THE BOOK:Release Date June

She didn’t want to marry

Least of all a Viscount!

Marcella Cranmore wants to avoid marriage and continue using her mathematical expertise to help her railway engineer father—but her mother insists on her having a season. At her first ball, Marcella’s relieved to see someone she knows, railway investor Crispin D’Aubignon. Conversing with the viscount is safe, for she’s as off-limits to him as he is to her…except that is only increasing the fascination!

Heirs in Waiting

One day these Oxford gentlemen will inherit estates, titles and wealth.

But for now, they’re forging their own paths in life…and love!

•••••••

REVIEW: Marcella doesn’t want, or need a husband thank you! Marriage will put an end to her passion of helping her father build and design trains. But promising her mother and grandfather to attend a season in London, is becoming a frightful bore! Why can’t she allowed to work in the field she loves? Oh yes, that’s right, she’s a woman! And women were for decoration and procreation only! To be seen and not heard! Not for Marcella, she wants a partnership or nothing.

Crispin is sick of his father wanting him to marry for money! Avoiding him at all costs is becoming rather tiresome! But if he doesn’t then his poor mother has to face her husband’s wrath! He likes to earn his money the honest way, to work for it! Whereas his father wants to inherit or for his son to get a dowry for his new wife!

So when they meet each other, an alliance is formed, a front will be provided for both parties. And when it’s all done, no one will be hurt, and everyone else will be none the wiser…..

In theory it sounds like a great plan, but neither expect to grow fond of one another. Neither expected more from this arrangement, but it does. So can Crispin woo the lovely young Marcella? And will she believe he wants her for her brain and not the dowry that comes with marriage? And if this other suitor puts his claim out there, who will Marcella choose?

I’ve read book one in this series. But it’s not necessary to read in order.

It’s a sweet romance, so if your looking for smut, you won’t find it here. What you will find is a beautifully written story. With a strong female character and a hero who is willing to listen and be a modern man, rather than a chest thumping Neanderthal!

There is humour and quick wit. A rival for the fair Marcella’s hand, and parents that want what’s best for their children (even if the children don’t want it!)

I did like the scene where Marcella dresses as a man (unheard of in those days) but Crispin is having a hard time focusing on the task at hand ?

I also liked that Marcella had a brain and it was being utilised by her father. He saw her potential and nurtured it.

Click HERE for Julie’s review of book one THE BLUESTOCKING DUCHESS

?Reviewed by Julie B

Copy supplied for review

Bristol, England, March 1834

“If it can be done, it will certainly be a magnificent achievement,” Crispin D’Aubignon, Viscount Dellamont, murmured to himself as he stood reviewing his notes outside the office of Richard Cranmore, the engineer surveying the final leg of the proposed Great Western Railway.
With the substantial return he’d earned on his investment in the Liverpool & Manchester, he was always looking for other promising railway ventures. If he received the answers he anticipated from the engineering assistant he would be consulting in just a few moments, he’d be ready to sink some money into this new scheme.
Review completed, he walked in to find the bare outer office deserted. Not surprising, since the firm’s main headquarters was back in London and this suite of rooms had been rented only for the duration of the local survey. But the front door had been left unlocked, which indicated there should be someone on the premises.
Proceeding toward the inner office, he called out, “Hello! Is anyone here?”
He’d been about to add his name and the reason for his visit when he reached the doorway and stopped short.
Seated behind the desk of the inner office was a woman. Not just a woman, he realized as she looked up at him inquiringly, but a young and very attractive one.
Though her gown wasn’t as outlandishly elaborate as those in the first stare of fashion, he recognized the material as expensive and the cut and fit as expert. Glossy dark hair with glimmers of auburn glistened from the elaborate arrangement of curls pinned to her head, and the eyes turned up to him were a beautiful green, framed by long dark lashes. The pale skin of her face looked petal-soft, her nose aquiline and lovely. Lush lips and a temptingly curved figure produced an immediate jump in his pulse and a prickling awareness in the rest of his body.
No gently-born woman worked, and offices employed only male clerks. So what sort of woman could she be? The chere-amie of one of the engineers?
Before he could settle his rattled brain and produce speech, she said, “Can I help you?”
A little embarrassed to have been caught frankly staring at her, Crispin stammered, “V-viscount Dellamont. I’m here to consult with a Mr. Gilling?”
Surprise widened her eyes. “Lord Dellamont? Excuse me, but I was expecting someone…older. Most potential investors are,” she explained. “Austin—Mr. Gilling—should arrive shortly. Indeed, when I heard someone walk in, I thought it was him.”
She rose from behind the desk, her tiny waist emphasized by the wideness of her skirts. Though she was rather tall for a woman, the top of her head should just about reach his chin, Crispin thought. He could wrap both arms almost completely around that small frame, if he were to embrace her.
And ah, would he like to embrace her! Just who was this enticingly lovely woman?
“If you’d step back into the front room, you can wait there,” she was saying. “I apologize that our reception area is so…bare. Not expecting to be in Bristol long or to be receiving investors or clients here, my father didn’t consider it worth renting the quantity of furniture and comforts we have at the London office. Would you like a cup of tea? I can send Father’s assistant to the shop at the corner.”
“No, thank you.” Though the girl made a “shooing” motion, directing him toward the outer room, Crispin lingered, compelled to find out more about this lovely creature.
Then the significance of what she’d just said registered. “Your father?” he repeated. “You are…Richard Cranmore’s daughter?”
“Yes. Since there is no one to perform proper introductions, I’ll introduce myself. Marcella Cranmore, my lord.” She gave him a curtsey that was long on grace and exaggerated deference.
If she were truly the respected engineer’s unmarried daughter, that would make her a member of the rising merchant elite—who were known for their straight-laced morals. No chance of a casual, pleasurable encounter with a woman of that background, regrettably. The price of getting to know this young woman better would be marriage—which should prompt him to terminate the conversation immediately.
Just then, the outer door opened and a young man of about his own age bustled in. “Ah, Austin, there you are,” the young woman said, gifting the newcomer with a dazzling smile.
The engineer returned a fond one of his own. After sparing Crispin only a cursory glance, he said, “Sorry I’m late, Marcella. Some problems with the equipment at the site—it’s rather hard to access. But your father was insistent that I return as soon as possible, since he was expecting a visit by some fancy nob who’s already dropped a pile of blunt buying shares in other railroad ventures.”
The lady’s smile wavered. “Viscount Dellamont?”
“Yes, that was the name.”
She inclined her head toward Crispin. “He’s already arrived.”
Gilling turned toward him, as if seeing him for the first time. “Lord Dellamont?”
“I have that honor,” Crispin said drily.
Though the young man’s face colored, he gave Crispin a quick bow. “Pleased to meet you, my lord. Austin Gilling, Mr. Cranmore’s assistant chief engineer. No offense meant, I assure you.”
“None taken.”
“If you would be gracious enough to wait a few minutes longer, I need to have Miss Cranmore record some of the measurements we’ve just taken. After that, I will be happy to answer any questions you might have.”
“Let me send for that tea, my lord. We’ll make you as comfortable as possible while you wait, and then Mr. Gilling will give you his full attention,” Miss Cranmore said, giving him a placating smile—as if he were a querulous child who needed soothing.
“If Mr. Gilling is going to be giving you pertinent figures about the approach slope, I’d like to sit in on the discussion.”
“The figures are of a highly technical nature. We wouldn’t want to waste your valuable time, boring you with mathematical details,” she replied.
“Whose significance I couldn’t possibly comprehend?” he suggested, not sure whether he was more amused or offended by her treating him like a rich, self-important, clueless dolt.
Her overly-gracious demeanor slipped a bit. “Are you a trained engineer then, my lord?” she asked with some asperity.
“No. But since I have, er, ‘dropped a good deal of blunt’ in several other railway ventures, I’ve made it my business to become more acquainted with some of the technical issues involved with constructing them.”
“I really can’t see why—“ Gilling began, but Miss Cranmore waved a hand, motioning him to silence.
“If it would please you to know the figures, you are certainly quite welcome to listen. We have no objection to our investors becoming more knowledgeable about the technical aspects of our engineering projects. It can only increase their appreciation and admiration for the work my father’s engineers accomplish.”
Giving Gilling a warning look, as if to remind him he was dealing with an investor whose plump pockets they needed to fund the project that would pay his salary, she said, “Do step back into the office, then. Mr. Gilling, will you bring another chair? And please let me send Timmons for that tea, my lord.”
“If you wish to have some,” Crispin said, curious about what was going to happen next.
And even more curious about why the daughter of a successful, well-known engineer would be sitting at a desk in his temporary office. Her father, he knew, had made a comfortable fortune building railroads and bridges. Even were it not highly unusual to have a female clerk in their office, the family was certainly well enough off that his daughter need do nothing more taxing than help her mother run the household, visit friends, and spend her father’s blunt on clothes and fripperies while her parents lined up prospective suitors.
The tea order dispatched to the assistant who ducked in when Miss Cranmore called him and an extra chair brought by Gilling to the desk, Miss Cranmore resumed her seat behind it, Gilling taking the one he pulled up beside her. While she extracted a notebook from the desk drawer, the engineer pulled a pad from his waistcoat pocket. Once she had taken out her nib pen and opened the inkwell lid, she nodded to Gilling.
“Have you and Father finished all the measurements of the slope leading up from the river?” she asked.
“We have one more section to complete—the slope is rather steep there, so the work goes slowly. We’re having to break the hundred-foot segments into many smaller increments for the forward tape man to be able to keep it level at his chest. Are you ready for the numbers?”
She dipped her nib in the ink. “Ready.”
For the next few minutes, Gilling read off a list of lengths while Miss Cranmore copied them into her log book.
“That’s all I have for now,” Gilling said. “After I speak with Lord Dellamont, I’ll head back out to rejoin Mr. Cranmore. We hope to finish the rest of the measurements today and then can begin figuring the angles necessary to construct the grade.”
The assistant arrived with tea, Miss Cranmore pouring while Gilling put away his notebook. “So, my lord, what would you like to know?” he asked.
“The countryside immediately outside London is flat enough, but as one journeys westward, especially after Chippenham, the land becomes increasingly hilly, with several rivers and a canal to cross. How do the engineers propose to deal with these?”
Gilling angled a look at him. “You are familiar with the terrain?”
“I’m not a professional surveyor, of course, but before investing in any venture, I prefer to ride the route myself. Evaluating the difficulties it may pose and therefore the chances of it being successfully completed. I have to admit, when I first looked it over, I was rather skeptical.”
“And are you still skeptical?” Miss Cranmore asked.
“That’s why I wanted to talk with Mr. Gilling.”
“The route is challenging,” Gilling admitted. “The stations at both Temple Meads and Bath will be elevated and require the construction of viaducts. In addition to bridges crossing smaller waterways, there will be a major bridge to carry the track over the River Avon. The Kennet and Avon canal will have to be diverted, and one major tunnel constructed through Box Hill outside Corsham, on the highest point of the route.”
“Which, I understand, will be the longest tunnel ever attempted?” Crispin said.
“True. But the engineer in overall charge of the project, Mr. Brunel, worked on tunnels with his father, also a superior engineer. No one in England has more experience.”
“How steep will the gradient be?”
“For the majority of the line, no more than 1 in 1000. The Box Hill tunnel will be steeper, of course, but manageable.”
“What about the stone underlying the tunnel? Will it be able to support having so long a cavern carved out of it?”
“Mr. Brunel believes so. He intends to sink shafts along the route to examine the geology of the rock, of course, before the construction begins.”
“How about curves going up and down the grades?”
“No angles more acute than ten degrees, except perhaps in steeper areas where switchbacks will be necessary. But the engine’s speed will be slow enough in those instances not to pose a danger.”
Crispin nodded, the majority of his concerns alleviated. “I think that answers most of my questions.” He ought to head out himself, but he couldn’t quite master his desire to chat further with the intriguingly accomplished Miss Cranmore.
Giving in to that impulse, he said, “I know you’re anxious to get back and complete your work, Mr. Gilling, so don’t let me keep you any longer.”
Gilling nodded back. “The Great Western will be a boon for its investors, I assure you, Lord Dellamont. Mr. Brunel intends to create not only a direct link between London and Bristol, but by constructing of a fleet of fast, transatlantic iron ships, to New York as well.”
If Brunel were successful in doing all of that, an investor’s return on this venture could be huge, Crispin thought. “Thank you, Mr. Gilling. I shall keep it all in mind.”
“Will you be back in the office later, Mr. Gilling?” Miss Cranmore asked as the engineer put his tea cup back on the tray and then rose from his chair.
“I don’t know. It depends on how long the final measurements take.” Dragging his chair back against the wall, he added, “Your father said not to wait here for him, that he’d meet you back at your lodgings.”
“Perhaps you will join us for dinner, then?” she suggested, giving the engineer another of her lovely smiles.
“I would like that,” he replied, returning another smile of his own. “But I’ll need to make calculations on the data we collected today so I can recommend to your father the best way to proceed along the final approach while keeping the angle of rise within acceptable limits.”
“Father and I will be working on the figures as well. We could compare notes,” Miss Cranmore said.
He nodded—as if it were a common occurrence to have a lady figuring angles and slopes. “Thank you for the invitation. I shall certainly join you if I can.” Turning to Crispin with a bow, he said, “Thank you for coming by, Lord Dellamont. Mr. Cranmore is gratified by your interest in our project, as I’m sure Mr. Brunel will be also. My lord, Miss Cranmore.”
Giving them another bow, the engineer walked out. Miss Cranmore, Crispin noted, followed the engineer’s progress out of the office with a wistful look on her face.
Crispin found himself unaccountably annoyed—and a little bit jealous—of the engineer for the favor with which he was treated by this lovely young woman. Which made no sense. They were in no way competing for Miss Cranmore’s attentions. After this one meeting, he would never see her again.
But because of that fact, he meant to take advantage of this opportunity to find out what inspired a girl of her beauty to spend her evening solving geometric equations with her father.
“You needn’t rush, my lord,” she said, at last turning her attention back to him. “Please, finish your tea.”
“Thank you, I shall.”
“You seem…rather well versed in angles and gradients. Have you studied them?”
Crispin smiled. “My classics education at Oxford didn’t prepare me to evaluate the nuts and bolts of technological advances like railway engines—but they fascinate me. I’m convinced the new industrial age represents the future of wealth and economic expansion, and railways the future of transportation.”
“And so you are eager to invest in them.”
“I was fortunate enough to have a great aunt who left me a small bequest. After I left university, I travelled to the north to investigate the companies beginning the transition from using horse-drawn vehicles on rails to harnessing the new steam engines designed by Mr. Stephenson for the Stockton and Darlington. My modest investments in that and several similar ventures were rewarded. So I now follow rather closely the bills introduced into Parliament for the construction of new lines, riding the countryside myself to evaluate the proposed routes.”
“I have to admit, you seem much more knowledgeable than most of our aristocratic investors.” Her face coloring a little, she added, “I’m afraid I may have been…rather too dismissive upon first meeting you.”
“Thinking I was a useless fribble with more money than comprehension?”
“A dandy, anyway,” she added, her flush deepening. “If I gave the impression that my opinion of you was derogatory, I do apologize.”
Crispin suppressed a smile. She’d made it rather obvious that was indeed her opinion of him, but he wouldn’t embarrass her further by pointing that out—and risk having her speedily dismiss him. Because he was even more curious about her now than he’d been upon first meeting her, and wanted to know more.
For how long would he be able to lure her into talking with him?

 

Award-winning historical romance author Julia Justiss has written more than thirty-five novels and novellas set in the English Regency and the Texas Hill Country.

A voracious reader who began jotting down plot ideas for Nancy Drew novels in her third grade spiral, Julia has published poetry and worked as a business journalist.

She and her husband live in East Texas, where she continues to craft the stories she loves. Check her website for details about her books, chat with her on social media, and follow her on Bookbub and Amazon to receive notices about her latest releases. For special subscriber giveaways, discounted books, character sketches and more, sign up for her newsletter at:

https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h7r3n5

Website: www.juliajustiss.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/juliajustiss
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JuliaJustissAuthor
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/juliajustiss/
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-justiss
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/juliajustissauthor/
Amazon Author: https://amzn.to/2RK34RO
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/63842.Julia_Justiss

Julia Justiss  is graciously offering an ecopy of THE RAILWAY COUNTESS  to TWO lucky commenters at The Reading Cafe.

1. If you have not previously registered at The Reading Cafe, please register by using the log-in at the top of the page (side bar) or by using one of the social log-ins.

NOTE: If you are having difficulty commenting after logging onto the site, please refresh the page (at the top of your computer).

2. If you are using a social log-in, please post your email address with your comment.

3. Please LIKE & follow Julia Justiss on Facebook

4. Please Follow Julia Justiss on Goodreads

5. Please LIKE / FOLLOW The Reading Cafe on FACEBOOK

6. LIKE The Reading Cafe on Twitter for an additional entry.

7. Please FOLLOW The Reading Cafe on GOODREADS for an additional entry.

8. Please follow The Reading Cafe on Tumblr

9. Giveaway is open internationally

10. Giveaway runs from July 31 to August  5, 2021

Share

The Cowboy by Julia Justiss-Review & Giveaway

The Cowboy (The McAllister Brothers 2) by Julia Justiss-Review and Giveaway

THE COWBOY
The McAllister Brothers 2
by Julia Justiss
Genre: adult, contemporary, romance

Amazon.com / Amazon.ca / B&N / KOBO / Chapters Indigo / Google Play

ABOUT THE BOOK: Release Date May 11, 2021.

He’s not looking for anything serious…

When his older brother asks him to move back to Whiskey River to help run the family ranch, former Marine Grant McAllister feels obligated to agree. After spending two years recovering from battle injuries, coming home finally feels right. Relishing being back on the land, Grant decides to refurbish the family’s old hunting cabin as his new home. When the artisan designer he hires turns out to be a beautiful, intriguing woman, he hopes to mix business with a little pleasure.

She needs to remain uninvolved…

After the death of her Marine husband, a pregnant Abby Rogers moved to Whiskey River to be closer to her husband’s family and escape her controlling mother. Reinventing herself as a designer, she now focuses on her business and mothering her young daughter. She has no time for relationships—no matter how tempting she finds her handsome new client. But when her wealthy mother threatens to sue for custody of her daughter, Grant’s shocking offer forces her to listen to her heart.

••••••

REVIEW:We meet Grant in the previous book, and his witty banter had me smiling.

I think the McAllister brothers are going to be a lot of trouble, even though one is now happily married (The Rancher). He’s ready to help his brother run the ranch. He was a marine, but after leaving the service, he battled with guilt and anxiety after surviving whilst service buddies didn’t come hone!

So an idea to rebuild and refurbish their grandfathers cabin seems like a good idea.Enlisting the help of a young widow seemed like a good idea at the time.But spending time with her has Grant wanting more than just her ideas for his home.

Abby is a widow with a little girl, her husband had been a marine before he died. Missing him even now had Abby wanting just to concentrate on raising her daughter and making furniture.She certainly doesn’t need her head turning by a handsome cowboy.She’s here to a job and that’s all she’s interested in.

Both Grant and Abby are aware of one another.But Abby doesn’t want to get involved with another service man (even though he’s no longer serving) she needs to concentrate on her daughter. She’s also got issues with her mother (she’s quite a controlling woman)

Grant falls first, and it takes all his skills and patience to woo the lovely Abby. He can’t rush or force the attraction between them. But it does take all his skills.

It’s friends who eventually become lovers.It’s a slow burn with action happening behind closed doors!

There is a lot of overanalysing situations, there is a lot of almost kisses.

So if you like your romance clean, then this one is definitely for you.

Click HERE for Julie’s review of THE RANCHER

Copy supplied for review

? Reviewed by Julie B

Award-winning historical romance author Julia Justiss has written more than thirty-five novels and novellas set in the English Regency and the Texas Hill Country.

A voracious reader who began jotting down plot ideas for Nancy Drew novels in her third grade spiral, Julia has published poetry and worked as a business journalist.

She and her husband live in East Texas, where she continues to craft the stories she loves. Check her website for details about her books, chat with her on social media, and follow her on Bookbub and Amazon to receive notices about her latest releases. For special subscriber giveaways, discounted books, character sketches and more, sign up for her newsletter at:

https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h7r3n5

Website: www.juliajustiss.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/juliajustiss
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JuliaJustissAuthor
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/juliajustiss/
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-justiss
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/juliajustissauthor/
Amazon Author: https://amzn.to/2RK34RO
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/63842.Julia_Justiss

Julia Justiss  is graciously offering an ecopy  of THE COWBOY  to ONE lucky commenters at The Reading Cafe.

1. If you have not previously registered at The Reading Cafe, please register by using the log-in at the top of the page (side bar) or by using one of the social log-ins.

NOTE: If you are having difficulty commenting after logging onto the site, please refresh the page (at the top of your computer).

2. If you are using a social log-in, please post your email address with your comment.

3. Please LIKE & follow Julia Justiss on Facebook

4. Please Follow Julia Justiss on Goodreads

5. Please LIKE The Reading Cafe on FACEBOOK and then click GET NOTIFICATION under ‘liked’ for an additional entry.

6. LIKE The Reading Cafe on Twitter for an additional entry.

7. Please FOLLOW The Reading Cafe on GOODREADS for an additional entry.

8. Please follow The Reading Cafe on Tumblr

9. Giveaway is  international

10. Giveaway runs from May 15-20, 2021

Share

The Bluestocking Duchess by Julia Justiss- Review & Giveaway

The Bluestocking Duchess (Heirs in Waiting 1) by Julia Justiss- Review, Excerpt & Giveaway

The Bluestocking Duchess
Heirs in Waiting #1
by Julia Justiss
Release Date: February 23, 2021
Genre: adult, historical, romance

Amazon.com / Amazon.ca / B&N / KOBO / Chapters Indigo / Google Play

ABOUT THE BOOK:Release Date February 23, 2021

Her good friend…

Is suddenly a duke’s heir!

Miss Jocelyn Sudderfeld is working at Edge Hall, indulging her love of translating ancient texts with her librarian father—and evading the need to marry! She’s always enjoyed a teasing friendship with estate manager Mr. Alex Cheverton. Until he unexpectedly becomes the duke’s heir. Now his first duty is to marry a suitable debutante, not consort with an earnest bluestocking like her… So where does that leave their friendship?

•••••••••

REVIEW: Jocelyn and Alex have been friends for what seems like forever, and Jocelyn has had a crush on Alex for just as long, but all that is coming to an end!!

Alex is about to become heir to Edge Hall and become Duke of Farisdeen. Well, he’s being groomed to take that position, being estate manager for his cousin the Duke was enough for Alex, and getting to tease Jocelyn is a bonus. But being asked (well commanded) to become the heir to the Farisdeen estate and title is a great honour. So why isn’t Alex happier?

Jocelyn translates manuscripts from Ancient Greek into English. That makes her too smart for this period of time (ladies should be doing needlepoint and taking tea with other ladies) she loves working with her father and brother, but the most frustrating thing about working with her family, is that her brother is being credited with her work! But it’s a work of love for Jocelyn, so she just has to put up with it!

Sharing a chaste kiss changed their friendship, both have agreed that nothing would change, and how can it when Jocelyn is promised to another (a friend of her brother) it’s not a love match, but he’s promised Jocelyn she can continue her “work” of helping her father and brother with the Greek manuscripts. So she is spoken for, and he is in line to become the next Duke of Farisdeen, but neither can forget the kiss…..And when his uncle finds out!! Then that’s where the trouble begins, Alex is threatened with being disinherited, and Jocelyn is harassed to give up both her work and her friendship with Alex!!

Can Alex and Jocelyn really be together? Or will the duties that have been pushed upon Alex break this couple up?

It’s hard for us to imagine not being able to chose our own life, to find our own path, but women of that era had no such liberties, married off usually not for love, but for political gain! And for a woman to hold an intellectual conversation just wasn’t done!! And sometimes the men of title didn’t have it much better either! Finding the right wife didn’t necessarily mean the best for you, it meant continuing the line with people of the same standing!

Lots of rules, and tons of etiquette to learn!!

It’s a lovely book to read if your looking for a gentle romance, a small amount of angst and chaste kisses and smouldering looks.

Copy supplied for review

?Reviewed by Julie

 

West Sussex, late February 1834If his Oxford friends could see him now…they might not think so highly of his choice of profession. Not that he’d really had one.
With a sigh of annoyance, Alex Cheverton, estate manager of Edge Hall, the Duke of Farisdeen’s principal country property, got down on hands and knees and crawled under his desk to retrieve his waistcoat button. Castigating himself for putting off the task of repairing it, he backed out carefully, not wanting to compound his annoyance by banging his head on the desk.
Rising back to his feet, he stared at the offending button. Might as well leave the correspondence on his desk and tend to it now. Besides, he’d been craving a hot cup of tea since returning to his office after the chill of inspecting the stable block and the State Rooms the staff had just finished cleaning.
Button in hand, he walked out of his office and headed down the corridor to another of the smaller, private family rooms located, like his office, in a separate wing that backed onto and mirrored the U-shaped formal entry wing of Edge Hall. A moment later, he reached the sitting room, appreciating as he entered the warmth emanating from the fire on the hearth and the sunlight streaming through the window.
He shared this pleasant space with a handful of staff whose birth, like his, elevated them above congregating in the servant’s hall, yet was not sufficiently grand to entitle them to use the State Apartments or the sumptuous salons, bedchambers and anterooms reserved for the Duke. Soon after taking up his post, he’d had a small stove added to the fireplace in the room so that he could prepare tea for himself whenever he wished, without having to send to the kitchen. With wine in the decanter on the sideboard, a tin beside it containing the bread and cheese Cook sent up daily with his breakfast, he had sustenance to keep him going throughout the day.
The sideboard also contained an assortment of everyday necessities like needles, thread, scissors and thimbles.
He’d fixed the tea, taken a seat at the long table before the hearth, threaded a needle and bent over to begin his chore when a disturbance in the air of the room, followed by the wafting of rose perfume, announced a new arrival. Jocelyn, he thought, his senses stirring.
“Ah, you’ve heated the kettle, I see,” the newcomer said.
“Yes. There should be enough hot water left to make tea for you and your brother, if you’d like.” Distracted by her presence, he looked up to smile at her—and jabbed himself in the thumb.
Giving an undignified yelp, he rubbed at the spot of blood on his finger, not wanting to drip it onto the waistcoat.
“What’s this? Have you injured yourself?” she asked, walking over to the table. “Let me see.”
“I think I’ll live,” he said, holding up the finger for her inspection.
She took a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped off his finger.
The pain of the pinprick forgotten, he savored the touch of her hands, acutely sensitive to the brush of fabric over his finger, the subtle scent of roses that clung to her. Guiltily aware that he shouldn’t be noticing it.
“Yes, you’ll do,” she said, releasing his hand. “Speaking of ‘do,’ whatever were you attempting here? “ She peered down at the thread, scissors, and waistcoat laid before him on the table. “Sewing on a button?”
“How very acute you are.”
“It’s my superior education. It allows me to rapidly evaluate a situation and discern the most salient points,” she tossed back, her beautiful dark eyes dancing.
He could stare into them forever, Alex thought. But of course, he wouldn’t. Trading barbs with Jocelyn Sudderfeld, the lovely, intelligent sister of the Duke’s librarian, who over the six years he’d worked here had grown from exuberant youngster into desirable young lady almost before he noticed it, was all he would allow himself. Especially now that he could no longer ignore how attractive her tall, graceful figure, gamin face, and fascinating eyes had become.
Fortunately, even if she didn’t view him merely as another pesky older brother, she was promised to another—or as close to promised as made no difference.
“Which begs the point,” she was saying, “of why the lofty estate manager of Edge Hall, cousin to the Duke of Farisdeen himself, is lowering himself to perform such a mundane task. Any number of housemaids could do it for you. Mary, in particular, would be delighted to be of assistance.”
“Which, if your understanding were as acute as you seem to think it, you would realize is exactly why I did not ask her—or any of the others.”
“Oh, my—has she turned love-sick, too? Well, what can a gentleman like you expect, when he is handsome, charming, intelligent—and cousin to a duke?”
“He expects to tread a very careful path away from love-sick housemaids,” Alex said with asperity, drawing a laugh from Jocelyn. “Although a little more respect from the sister of His Grace’s librarian wouldn’t come amiss.”
“Ah, but I’m not a lovesick housemaid.”
“No, you’re just an outspoken bluestocking whom I vainly hoped would have matured from the mannerless brat I encountered when I arrived six years ago”
“Perhaps, but a talented, outspoken mannerless brat,” she returned. “In fact, despite your cruel aspersions, which would have me bursting into tears, had I any sensibility, which fortunately I do not, I am still magnanimous enough to sew on that button for you. Can’t have you bleeding all over the parlor. If you’ll hand me the waistcoat and thread?”
Saying that, she seated herself at the table and held out her hand.
Quite happy to turn the task over to someone whom he didn’t have to worry about trying to sneak into his bed—much as he might welcome such a shocking but highly unlikely invasion from her—he offered her the threaded needle and handed over the waistcoat. “Are you sure you are able to sew on a button? Writing down your brother’s Greek translations all day doesn’t exactly qualify you as a seamstress.”
“Perhaps not, but since both he and Papa seem to shed buttons as freely as dogs do their winter coats in spring, I’ve plenty of practice doing that, too. You might cease insulting me and make me a cup of tea instead, while I mend your button. Preparing tea, I know you are competent to handle. Despite your lack of expertise with needle and thread, you’re not entirely the useless, idle cousin-of-the-Duke you were when you first arrived.”
“I’ll be happy to fix you’re a cup, if you will cease the cousin-of-the-Duke harassment. Since I am, as you very well know, merely the son of a country gentleman, just as you are. Only my father was content to occupy himself on his modest estate, rather than embrace scholarship, as your father and brother have.”
“If it earns me a hot cup of tea, I suppose I can desist.” Abandoning her teasing for a more normal tone, she asked, “How are the repairs going on the stable block?”
“Slowly,” he replied as he extracted tea leaves from the tin, put them into a pot and poured simmering water over them. “Although the local stone used in the original construction is a beautiful color, it doesn’t last well. There is chipping and cracking on almost every one of the carved cornices. Now that we’re reasonably sure there will be no further frost to exacerbate the cracks, the mason thinks he can start on it. But he expects it will be a lengthy and extensive project.”
“No riding with the hunt for you, then,” she said, pausing to accept a steaming cup.
“No, alas. Not that I ride with them often, anyway.”
“I know they are always pleased to welcome you when you do. And the Duke’s hunters do require exercise.”
“They do indeed. In fact, I’m planning to make a circuit of the tenant farms on the west side of the estate tomorrow, to inspect for any winter damage to cottages and barns and make sure the farmers have sufficient equipment and seed. All the weather indications promise it will be a fine, sunny day. Would you and Miss Morrison like to ride with me?”
“Emily is still tending her Papa as he recovers from a putrid cold, but I’ll send a note and ask her. Speaking for myself, I’d be delighted to ride. As long as I can choose which of the Duke’s hunters I get to exercise.”
“Knowing you, it will be the most skittish and ungovernable one in the stable,” Alex said.
“No, just the fastest. After all, the hunters do need to be galloped to keep up their stamina. So they can give the Duke and his guests a good run, if he should bring a party down to hunt. Do you think he will?”
“Since he’s waited this late, I doubt he’ll come now. He’s been attending a house party in the north with some political associates, and with Parliament to reconvene soon, I don’t think he’ll come all the way to Sussex before heading back to London. All is in readiness, of course, if he should turn up. I just looked through the State Rooms, and they are immaculate—not that I expected anything less. Still, I told Simons to pass my compliments on to the staff.”
“They have all been working like Trojans, getting the house ready. Farisdeen usually does come to Edge Hall to hunt before Parliament reconvenes. I imagine some will be disappointed to miss having the excitement of a grand party visit the house. You, I expect, will not.”
Alex laughed. “Disappointed not to add the work of housing, feeding and entertaining the Duke and a hunting party of anywhere from ten to fifty guests for several weeks, while at the same time helping the tenants prepare for spring planting and supervising the never-ending task of repairs and upkeep on the Hall, the stables, all the other outbuildings, and the tenant cottages? Not one bit. Though I expect that means I shall receive instructions shortly to meet the Duke in London and give him my spring report there.”
“Papa will be disappointed. He’d hoped to show His Grace all the progress Virgil and I—well, Virgil–has made on the translation of the Euripides tragedies. With the Duke of Portland having commissioned a new set of Aristotle translations from his chaplain, Reverend Owen, Papa knew Farisdeen hoped to have Virgil complete his work first.”
“Winning the first-to-the-finish competition among patrons sponsoring the translation of Greek classics into English?”
“Something like that. Just as well that His Grace won’t descend on us. Virgil is much happier with his nose buried in Greek text than he is presenting a report to the Duke–a prospect which always sends him into a state of high anxiety.”
“Speaking with Farisdeen often has that effect on people,” Alex said drily. “If Virgil is in such a hurry to finish, will he allow you to ride tomorrow?”
Jocelyn laughed, a delightful tinkling sound that always made Alex smile. “You must realize that ‘finish’ is a relative term. I doubt either Virgil—or the Duke of Portland’s chaplain—have any expectation of completing their projects for years yet. I think my brother can spare having me here to record his pristine words for an afternoon. Besides, I can tell him I’ll be helping Reverend Morrison by checking on his parishioners while he is laid up. ” She angled her head up at him, her dark eyes dancing. “Despite being mounted on the Duke’s fastest hunter, I promise not to outrace you…too often.”
“Only if you also promise not to sulk if I outrace you.”
“Easily done—since there’s little chance of that happening.”
Alex laughed, as she meant him to. Sometimes, when she challenged him to a gallop or to a game of chess, she seemed once again the vibrant, saucy girl who’d shocked him when he first arrived by riding the feistiest horse in the Duke’s stables—clad in her brother’s breeches. Unconventional, outspoken, endlessly curious about everything around her.
Her manners had improved—and she no longer rode about in breeches. But sometimes he’d catch a whiff of her rose perfume…or a glimpse of her in profile, her lushly rounded figure definitely no longer that of a child.
It had certainly been easier when he could think of her only as an engaging brat. But despite the temptation she presented, even if it were possible, he wasn’t sure he’d opt to return her to her girlish state of six years ago–and thereby forfeit the pleasure of appreciating the beauty and allure that both enticed and bedeviled him.
Fortunately for the maintenance of his control and good character, she lived with her little family in the Dower House. No chance of running into her in her night rail as she came down to the kitchen to prepare her wakeful father a glass of warm milk. He saw her only in the public rooms at Edge Hall, or out riding and walking the fields and farms, often with her friend Miss Morrison, the vicar’s daughter, accompanying them.
Tomorrow, he could rely on her desire to outrace him and her delight in meeting with the tenants, as well as the presence of Miss Morrison, to reinforce his control over the annoying amorous impulses she seemed to inspire in him of late.
Not that he really needed any help to avoid crossing the lines of propriety. After the searing experience in his late teens that had seen him secretly engaged and then summarily rejected by the young lady’s father, he’d become very good at reining in both unruly emotions and amorous impulses.
Besides which, though they might both be offspring of obscure country gentlemen, lowly members of the gentry whom the ton in London might consider beneath notice, he was a gentleman, and she was a lady. He liked and respected her too much to abuse her trust.
No matter how much her beauty and spirit might speak to him.
“There!” she said, pulling him from his thoughts as she held up his waistcoat. “Button firmly reattached. With, I’ll have you note, perfect, fine, even stitches of which even your Mama would approve.”
He took the garment, a shock of awareness zinging through him as, for a moment, their fingers touched.
Maybe it would be better if she were to regress to being a saucy sixteen-year old, he thought with a sigh.
“Very fine stitchery,” he said, recovering his wits. “My Mama, a notable needlewoman, would approve.”
“Mine was, too,” Jocelyn said, her teasing look fading and a distant expression coming over her face. “She was so patient, teaching me, restless and irritated as I often was with the lessons. She knew I’d far rather be with Papa in his study, learning Greek and Latin and French and Italian, than sewing samplers and practicing embroidery.”
“She despaired of having so unnatural a daughter?” he teased.
“No, she was proud of Papa’s scholarship, proud enough to defy her family and marry him in the teeth of their disapproval. A Randall of Innisbrook should have done much better for herself than to wed a former Oxford don whose chief goal in life was finding a patron to support his translation projects. She was pleased that I shared his interests, pleased that my aptitude for languages allowed me to assist him.”
“You copied out the translations for him, even before you began doing it for your brother, didn’t you?”
“Yes. It began as an exercise, when he was teaching me Greek. Then, when he developed rheumatism in his hands and writing became difficult, he found that I was able to take down his words as quickly and accurately as he could dictate them. So I was already quite accomplished by the time he passed the work on to my brother.”
“Still an unusual occupation for a female.”
She grinned. “Ah, but I am a very unusual female. Now, if I am to go riding tomorrow, I’d better get that tea for my brother and get back to work. Shall we meet at the stables around one? Emily can meet us there.”
“One would be fine. I need to work on the ledgers in the morning.”
“I’ll have the Dower House Cook make us up some provisions,” she said as she added more tea leaves to the pot and poured in some additional hot water. “If the tenants don’t press too much food and drink upon us, we can picnic on top of Trethfort Hill. If it is as fine and sunny as you claim it will be, we’ll get a wonderful view over the South Downs, from Edge Hall village all the way to Charleton.”
Extracting a tray from a drawer in the sideboard, she put her cup and saucer on it, added another set and the teapot, then poured a bit of milk into the cups. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Shall I carry the tray to the library for you?”
“Thank you, but I can manage. You’d better get back to your reports. Besides, it wouldn’t do to have His Magnificence, the Duke’s cousin, carrying a tea tray like a lackey.”
“Minx!” he threw at her as, laughing, she hefted the tray and walked out of the room.
She was set to marry a curate, a friend of her brother’s from university, once the young man secured a living sufficient to support her, he knew. Alex wondered how this lively, intelligent, unusual lady who loved galloping hunters and spending her days transcribing ancient Greek would fare as a vicar’s wife serving a small rural parish. Where hunters, and scholarship, were likely to be thin on the ground.
He would certainly miss her when she did marry. That liveliness and intelligence and her always-unexpected view of the world brightened his days as much as her beauty attracted him. Her brother was polite enough, but not even his doting sister would describe him as “lively,” and her father, though a fine gentleman, was rather garrulous, with a tendency to ramble on and on about his work. Except when the Duke was in residence, bringing along his secretary, like Alex a gentleman from a modest but respected family, Alex had no other company of his station.
He knew he was welcome to visit the Squire and the handful of gentry families who lived in the area. But as a bachelor—the Duke had made his remaining unmarried for at least ten years a condition of his employment, a restriction, after his previous unpleasant experience, Alex had embraced–he couldn’t return the hospitality. And since that stricture was not generally known, neither did he wish to visit any of the local families with marriageable daughters with enough frequency as to give rise to any marital expectations.
Should he be foolish enough to wed, thereby forfeiting his position, the small competence he thus far managed to save from the salary the Duke paid him wouldn’t allow him to support an independent household. While he knew his father would receive him and his bride back at Wynborne, he’d witnessed first-hand with his younger sister’s marriage how unpleasant it could be to have a wife and a mother-in-law under the same roof. Nor did he want to add to his father’s burdens the necessity of supporting both him and a wife. Removing the drain of his expenses from the family purse had been the main reason he’d accepted the estate manager’s job to begin with.
All of which meant he attended only the celebratory events or holidays for which the whole neighborhood was invited. Dinner or cards with the Sudderfelds provided the majority of his evening entertainment, and with Jocelyn the most dynamic member of her family, life after she married and left Edge Hall would lose much of its sparkle.
For now, he thought as he doffed his coat, shrugged on his repaired waistcoat, then replaced the outer garment, he would continue to enjoy her company—and hope that her vicar took his time finding a living.

 


 

Award-winning historical romance author Julia Justiss has written more than thirty-five novels and novellas set in the English Regency and the Texas Hill Country.

A voracious reader who began jotting down plot ideas for Nancy Drew novels in her third grade spiral, Julia has published poetry and worked as a business journalist.

She and her husband live in East Texas, where she continues to craft the stories she loves. Check her website for details about her books, chat with her on social media, and follow her on Bookbub and Amazon to receive notices about her latest releases. For special subscriber giveaways, discounted books, character sketches and more, sign up for her newsletter at:

https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h7r3n5

Website: www.juliajustiss.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/juliajustiss
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JuliaJustissAuthor
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/juliajustiss/
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-justiss
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/juliajustissauthor/
Amazon Author: https://amzn.to/2RK34RO
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/63842.Julia_Justiss

Julia Justiss  is graciously offering an ecopy / paper copy (US only) of THE BLUESTOCKING DUCHESS  to TWO lucky commenters at The Reading Cafe.

1. If you have not previously registered at The Reading Cafe, please register by using the log-in at the top of the page (side bar) or by using one of the social log-ins.

NOTE: If you are having difficulty commenting after logging onto the site, please refresh the page (at the top of your computer).

2. If you are using a social log-in, please post your email address with your comment.

3. Please LIKE & follow Julia Justiss on Facebook

4. Please Follow Julia Justiss on Goodreads

5. Please LIKE The Reading Cafe on FACEBOOK and then click GET NOTIFICATION under ‘liked’ for an additional entry.

6. LIKE The Reading Cafe on Twitter for an additional entry.

7. Please FOLLOW The Reading Cafe on GOODREADS for an additional entry.

8. Please follow The Reading Cafe on Tumblr

9. Giveaway -> ebook is  international: ebook or hard copy for US only.

10. Giveaway runs from March 6-11, 2021

Share

The Enticing of Miss Standish by Julia Justiss-Review & Giveaway

The Enticing of Miss Standish (The Cinderella Spinsters #3) by Julia Justiss-Review, Excerpt & Giveaway

 

Amazon.com / Amazon.ca / B&N / KOBO / Chapters Indigo / Google Play

ABOUT THE BOOK: Release Date August 1, 2020

A meeting of minds…

But a most unsuitable match!

When lady’s companion Sara Standish meets Cameron Fitzallen, he has his jacket off and he’s mending mill machinery. He is manly, capable—though it’s most improper for him to set her heart aflutter! He is a mill owner—trade—after all. They share the same aim to help impoverished children, but in the eyes of the ton, she must not mix with him. That doesn’t stop her craving his company, or his touch…

•••••••••

REVIEW:This marvelous historical romance takes place in London – summer of 1834. The setting for this adventure and love story is perfect. Progress, by way of machines, is taking hold and the world is changing. However, for women, it’s hard to do more than the expected and still marry well.

This is the delightful story of Miss Sara Standish and industrialist Cameron Fitzallen.

Sara is from a wealthy and titled family. Sara considers herself plain and ordinary. Ordinary is not the word for a lovely and intelligent woman like Sara. However, among the gentry, such intelligence and desire to improve the position of all the poor in England is not among the desired qualities of a wife.

Cameron Fitzallen was a poor orphan who rose in position to learn and work in a mill. He was mechanically inclined and driven to succeed. With a little help from the mill owner, Cameron went to school and learned to design and improve the machines in the mill. Making it more profitable and earning his promotions. Due to some patents, he now owns the mill and is still improving both the machines and the work conditions of his employees. He’s an honorable man but will never be accepted into society.

Happening in the background of the railroad expansion and the beginning of the industrial revolution, this marvelous love story is exciting and well-written. The characters are well-developed, and the conversations are realistic, but stilted in the times. Author Julia Justiss does a professional job of presenting various types of people while connecting them to the times they are living in.

This is a thoroughly entertaining story you won’t want to miss.

Copy supplied for review

Reviewed by Georgianna S

Excerpt courtesy of the author

London—summer 1834
‘Act as a companion?’ Sara’s aunt echoed, her horrified voice rising. ‘Do you want to send me into a decline and be the death of your poor invalid mother? Why, society would think the Standish family had become indigent, like your poor friend Miss Overton!’
Sighing, Sara Standish gazed over at Lady Patterson, who occupied the other end of the sofa in the small back salon at Standish House where they were taking tea, Sara’s mother, as usual, being laid down upon her couch.
Sara supposed it wasn’t worth mentioning that her friend’s sudden loss of fortune had turned out to be a blessing, since it had led her to find the man she would fall in love with and marry. ‘Assisting a marchioness by accompanying her to meetings and society events would hardly suggest a sudden lack of funds.’
‘Perhaps not,’ Lady Patterson allowed. ‘But you might as well put on a cap and announce yourself a spinster, beyond all hope of marriage!’
‘Since I’m about to complete my fifth Season and have reached the advanced age of three-and-twenty, I expect society already considers me one.’
‘You needn’t have been. If you’d made just a little more push to engage one of the gentlemen who have shown interest in you,’ Lady Patterson argued. ‘Mr Ersby or Mr Berwicke. Or that charming baronet’s son, Mr Harlande.’
‘Mr Ersby, who talks of nothing but hounds and hunters. Mr Berwicke, who merely wanted some gently born female who wouldn’t baulk at residing year-round in the depths of Yorkshire and married Miss Woodward within a month after I politely refused him. And that charming baronet’s son lives with his mother and intends on remaining with her, even if he weds.’ Sweeping her hand down to indicate her plump, rounded figure, she said wryly, ‘He probably thought I resembled his mama.’
‘Not every man wants a tall, sylph-like beauty,’ her aunt retorted. ‘Some prefer a lady with a bit of flesh on her bones. True, you’d never be taken for an Incomparable, but your figure is elegant, your pale blonde hair is lovely and I’ve overheard several gentlemen describe your blues eyes as “very fine”.’
‘Be that as it may, I prefer a gentleman with a bit of sense in his head and a great deal of purpose in his heart!’
‘Then why haven’t you endeared yourself to one of those politicians you’re always talking about? It’s not as if you don’t spend the vast majority of your time working with Lady Lyndlington’s Ladies’ Committee, writing letters in support of Parliamentary bills, or some such vulgar thing.’
A politician she could admire.
Sara pressed her lips together, trying to keep her countenance from betraying her as the unhappy memories escaped. After heady weeks of having consulted and encouraged her, handsome, dashing Member of Parliament Lucius Draycott asking her for a private interview. Her nervous jubilation, her certainty he meant to offer for her. The humiliation of discovering that all he wanted was her opinion on which of two well-dowered, crushingly conventional young ladies he should court.
She’d never shared that pain and didn’t intend to divulge it now, since the resolution it produced—that she would never marry—would only prolong the argument with her aunt.
‘No activity sponsored by a viscountess could be considered “vulgar”,’ Sara countered after a moment, keeping her tone light. ‘I suppose you’d prefer me to devote myself solely to afternoon calls and shopping trips, and my evenings to soirées, routs and balls, meeting and talking with the same people about the same things I have for the last five years.’
‘Of course I would. They are your peers, the elite of England, society’s leaders.’
‘Most of them lead rather pointless lives,’ Sara retorted. ‘I prefer to spend my time among the small segment of that elite who are working to change the nation and make life better for all England’s inhabitants.’
‘But to bury yourself away as a companion? After all the time and effort I’ve expended, trying to get you respectably s-settled!’ Her aunt’s voice breaking, she drew a handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at her eyes.
‘I know,’ Sara said quietly, putting a placating hand on her aunt’s arm. ‘I’m grateful that you were willing to take over sponsoring me after Mama decided that going about in society was too…taxing for her delicate health. And I do appreciate all the opportunities you have tried to create for me—even if it appears as if I don’t. I know you want the best for me. It’s just—your view of what that is, and mine, are so very different.’
‘You truly think you’d be happy living the rest of your days as a spinster, assisting some high-born lady to work on behalf of that orphan school and those legislative committees?’ her aunt asked. ‘Left behind, while your peers are raising their offspring, and left alone, with no child to comfort you, when your mother and I and the Marchioness pass? For I can’t imagine you could abide living with your brother and that silly featherhead he married!’
Perhaps she was making progress, Sara thought. Her aunt’s usual refrain was to recommend marriage—any marriage. Perhaps Lady Patterson was finally coming to see that wedding a typical society gentleman—a man with whom she had nothing in common—just wasn’t right for Sara. Such a man would almost certainly disapprove of her opinions, try to limit or forbid her political activities and probably leave his modestly attractive, quiet wife to run his home while he took his pleasure with a prettier, more dashing woman.
As her father had.
Whereas, though a political gentleman might encourage her opinions and applaud her activities, when it came to marriage, he usually chose a conventional society maiden as his bride.
Which pretty much swept the field of matrimonial prospects.
Was it any wonder she now yearned only to live an independent life?
‘I think I could be happy, yes. I have friends—and their children to coddle and love. I would be able to devote myself to working on causes that truly matter to me. I know I’m a sad disappointment to you, Aunt Patterson, but the usual rounds of entertainments and dinners and routs that delight most well-born ladies simply don’t interest me at all.’
Her aunt sighed. ‘So you’ve been telling me these last five years.’
‘Perhaps, now, you’re finally listening? Besides, both you and Mama had already agreed that at Season’s end, you would allow—if not give your blessing to—my moving with Emma and Olivia to the house on Judd Street, where we would all pursue our political activities.’
‘Except that Miss Henley and Miss Overton, quite sensibly, opted to marry instead,’ her aunt pointed out, a triumphant gleam in her eye. ‘Despite previously claiming, as you are now, that they preferred to remain unwed and devote themselves to good causes.’
‘If I were to capture the affections of a gentleman whose mind, heart, and purpose captivated me, as Emma did with Lord Theo and Olivia with Colonel Glendenning, I wouldn’t be opposed to marriage. But as you noted, I’ve encountered both society gentlemen and political gentleman over the years, without any such miracle occurring.’
‘But such a “miracle” will never happen unless you remain in society,’ her aunt countered. ‘Don’t hide yourself away as a companion and resign yourself to spinsterhood!’
‘Then perhaps we can make a bargain. If I agree to continue to forgo spinster’s caps and continue to conduct myself like a marriageable maiden, will you allow me to assist the Marchioness? As you may remember, she still suffers from that fall she took riding two years ago and is often in pain. It’s not as though I would be a paid companion—more a friend and assistant. To have someone to write out her correspondence for her, help her when she entertains and assist her to attend such meetings and social engagements as she wishes, would be a kind, Christian thing to do. For the present, when in London, I could still reside here with you and Mama. And assisting her would hardly mean hiding myself away! Despite her injuries, she moves in the first circles of society. Indeed, accompanying her might give me an even better chance of meeting that sterling young man who could tempt me into marriage.’
‘Oh, very well,’ her aunt said. ‘I suppose you’d talk me around to it one way or another eventually anyway. Goodness, for all that you scarcely say a word in company, you can be persuasive when you want to be!’
‘Then I may call on Lady Trent and let her know I can begin?’
‘I never thought I’d see the day…my darling niece, a companion?’
‘A kind, Christian assistant,’ Sara substituted.
Lady Patterson shook her head, that gesture telling Sara the change in wording didn’t make the proposition any more palatable to her. ‘But…yes, you may call on her.’
‘Thank you, best of aunts!’ Delighted, Sara jumped up to give her Lady Patterson a vigorous hug.
‘Goodness, now,’ that lady grumbled, ‘careful of my cap!’
‘I’ll go out at once,’ Sara said, walking towards the door. ‘Lady Trent has invited the members of the Parliamentary Committee who are to oversee the newly appointed Factory Inspectors to stay at Brayton Hullford, her country estate in Derbyshire. They will be touring the manufacturers in the region to check their compliance with last year’s Factory Act. Lady Lyndlington and the other committee members were as concerned as I was about the Marchioness taxing her limited strength, trying to manage such a large house party on her own.’
‘Why, you sly thing!’ Lady Patterson said reproachfully, shaking a finger at Sara. ‘Securing my approval of your proposition before informing me that taking up the position will send you out of London before the Season ends!’
‘The Season will be ending soon anyway. And you know you never stay in London after July. So I shall probably see you next in Kent.’
‘Not until we’re settled in Kent?’ Lady Patterson wailed. Then, shaking her head again, she said, ‘Oh, get on with you then, before I change my mind!’
Blowing her a kiss, Sara couldn’t help grinning as she walked out. For the first time since her friends’ unexpected marriages had ended for good any hope of leaving her mother’s house to live independently, she had the possibility of finding another way to take up the life the three of them had dreamed of since they’d met, bookish girls of serious natures, at Mrs Axminster’s Academy for Young Ladies.
She would miss her friends, of course. And happy as she was for their happiness, going to assist Lady Trent wouldn’t be like setting up a household with the two people dearest in the world to her.
With determination, she shook off the melancholy that always seized her when she thought of them, both now so far away, Emma with Lord Theo on their Grand Tour of Europe and Olivia back at her husband’s estate in Somerset. Though she couldn’t expect Lady Trent to be a replacement for her friends, she hoped the lady would turn out to be as congenial and interesting a companion over an extended period as she had been the short duration of the Ladies’ Committee meetings.
If they should prove to be incompatible—one couldn’t blame a woman who suffered constant pain from being querulous, after all—after the trip to Derbyshire, Sara could gracefully bow out of any further commitment.
But in the meantime, there was Derbyshire. Her spirits rose again and excitement tingled her nerves, just thinking of it. Living independently at Judd Street would have allowed her to spend as much time as she liked on her Ladies’ Committee work and assisting with Ellie Lattimer’s school—but it would be political work at a distance. In Derbyshire, she and Lady Trent intended to accompany the committee members on their factory tours, giving her an unparalleled opportunity to see with her own eyes, rather than reading about it second-hand in a journal or Parliamentary report, the working conditions of the factory children whose plight so touched her heart and whose best interests she was determined to advance and protect.
As she mounted the stairs to her room to collect her pelisse, she had to chuckle. If Aunt Patterson had any idea that during the visit to Derbyshire, her darling niece would be visiting factories employing pauper children and indigent females, she would lock Sara in her bedchamber.
Instead, she would shortly be on her way to inform Lady Trent she had her family’s permission to assist her on the journey. She couldn’t wait to begin.
But despite Aunt Patterson’s fondest hopes, she sincerely doubted that among the members of the Parliamentary committee or the inspectors Parliament had appointed, she would discover any discerning gentleman interested in enticing her into wedlock.
*
In the afternoon two weeks later, Cameron Fitzallen stood by his desk in the manager’s office of the Hughes Cotton Works near the village of Knively, trying not to grimace as the owner, Mr Hughes, informed him about the Parliamentary Committee that was to visit the mill later that afternoon.
‘Shouldn’t be anything to worry about, Cam my boy,’ Mr Hughes said. ‘We run a model mill and the working conditions here already surpass the standards established by the Factory Act.’
‘Oh, I’m not worried about what they will find. But I can’t help resenting the obligation to nursemaid yet another group of ignorant outsiders through the mill while they gather tales to amuse their London friends. A waste of my time! Only those who work in the business have the expertise to change things for the better.’
‘Aye, I know you’ve little taste for visiting committees,’ Hughes replied. ‘But sometimes, a nudge from outsiders doesn’t come amiss. In fact, I believe Mr Pennington, the committee member who represents Derby, wanted to bring the group to Hughes first for just that reason—so that they would see how a mill should be run, before they visit others that may need…improvements.’
‘We’re certainly proud of the establishment you’ve built,’ Cameron replied, looking at his mentor with admiration and respect. ‘Everyone from the over-lookers to the newest piecer will be happy to show off their work.’
‘And I’ll hear no more protest about having you do the tour, or the speech to them afterwards. Not for nothing did I insist you be trained up to talk like a London nob! They’ll listen a deal more attentively to you than they would to me, with my thick north-country speech.’
‘They ought to listen to you,’ Cameron retorted. ‘You’ve got as much expertise as I do. And a great deal more experience.’
‘Well, as so often in life, it’s the appearance that counts. Looking fine as five pence, and speaking as though you was one of them, always helps. Today, and when you’ll be on the hunt for more investors for those expansion schemes of yours.’
Cameron smiled. ‘I’ll let you take care of investments. I’ll concentrate on machinery. I might look and speak like a gentleman, but I wasn’t born one.’ The ugly memories of his time in London threatened and, with a dash of anger, he pushed them away. ‘Not that I care one whit about their opinions, but those who were born gentlemen will never forget I wasn’t.’
‘Aye, `tis the way of the world,’ Hughes acknowledged. ‘May we live to see the day when a man is recognised for his achievements, rather than his birth! True, I started the business and kept the capital flowing. But it’s the improvements you’ve made to the machinery, your study of the work and techniques of others, that have kept Hughes Works so profitable.’
‘Thank you, sir. I appreciate the vote of confidence.’
Mr Hughes chuckled. ‘I should hope I have confidence in the man to whom I will be turning this operation over! The first of several mills you mean to direct, eh, my ambitious young lad? Aye, I expect you’re itching to try out some of those novel new techniques you’ve been reading about! Well, keep the mill profitable is all I say. I’ll handle any grumbling from the investors over your changes.’
‘I intend to keep it profitable, sir.’
At that moment, a knock came at the door, followed by the entry of a child who worked in the card room. ‘What is it, Jenny?’ Cameron asked.
‘’Scuse me, Mr Hughes, but Lennox sent me up to fetch Mr Fitzallen. He’s having some trouble with the oiling of one of the spinning mules.’
‘With the committee due here any time, you’d better get the machinery working at once,’ Mr Hughes said.
‘On my way,’ Cameron replied. ‘Let’s go, Jenny.’
As he followed the child out of the office, the noise of the machinery drowned out all other sound—and made him smile. Though the clatter had awed and intimidated him the first time he entered the mill as a nervous six-year-old, he’d loved the complex machinery at first sight and the thrill he felt every time he gazed upon it had never faded. The levers and pulleys, gears and wires, rollers, drums and bobbins fascinated him, their interplay an elegant language of motion and efficiency he’d been studying ever since.
He’d done pretty well for an orphan from the parish workhouse, he thought as he followed Jenny. Working his way up over twenty-five years from a scavenger cleaning lint and fly from the edges of the machines to overall manager, along the way looking for ways to improve both efficiency and safety. The small adjustments he’d made had first caught the eye of his supervisor, then of Mr Hughes himself. Recognising his potential, the owner had sent him away to school. And very soon now, he thought with a rising swell of excitement, Mr Hughes would turn over the factory to him, to improve and expand even more.
He mimed a goodbye to Jenny in the carding room and walked on to enter the larger space occupied by the mule spinners, the heat and humidity hitting him like a slap to the face. Lennox, one of the senior minders, must have been watching for him, for he waved Cameron over. Using hand gestures, he indicated the machine that was giving him difficulty. Though he’d shut it down, the problem had occurred on one of the least accessible pulleys, a place difficult to reach even with the machine not in motion.
Stripping down to his shirtsleeves in the heat, Cameron tossed his coat, vest and cravat to the minder. The skinny workhouse orphan he’d once been had grown into a tall, broad-shouldered, powerfully built man, so he could no longer slither under the yard sheet to access the part, as he had as a boy—nor could Lennox, which Cameron figured was why the man had summoned him. He’d have to reach through and around, a delicate process to avoid ruining the thread being made—or catching a hand in one of the shuttles.
But solving mechanical difficulties was the sort of puzzle he loved—applying angle and torque and finesse and an intimate knowledge of the machine and its workings to successfully make the repair. With a hand motion to Lennox to indicate he was studying the situation, Cameron dropped to his knees and looked up at the recalcitrant part from below, then stood and peered down at it from several different angles. Satisfied he’d worked out the best way to proceed, he motioned to Lennox for the oiler, got back down on his knees and set to work.
His concentration intensely focused on his task, it wasn’t until he’d finished and got back to his feet that Cameron noticed Mr Hughes leading a group of strangers into the room. The Parliamentary Committee, no doubt.
He’d just handed the oiler back to Lennox when he realised that, among the seven or eight individuals approaching him, two were female. He frowned at that discovery, wondering why the committee had brought ladies with them. One older woman in an elegant pelisse and turban was leaning on the arm of a second female, who seemed to be assisting her as she walked.
The second lady turned towards him and looked up. A shock ran through Cameron as he realised this lady was not only much younger, but very attractive.
She looked like the pictures he’d seen of angels, he thought disjointedly. A twist of golden curls framed the soft, pale face under her bonnet, large, beautiful china-blue eyes looked at him enquiringly—and her deep blue pelisse accentuated curves much too voluptuous to belong to one of the heavenly host.
As his body had its inevitable reaction to that observation, the lady’s eyes widened. Cameron suddenly realised he was standing there, gaping at her, coatless and cravat-less, his open-necked shirt revealing the top half of his bare chest. Which, to someone from the Polite World, was akin to being practically undressed.
His face heating, he grabbed his garments back from Lennox and hastily shrugged on vest and coat and wrapped the cravat around his throat. No time to tie it properly, but a quick knot would bring the edges of his shirt back together and render him decent.
What was a young, attractive, gently born lady doing at Hughes Works? Besides looking as out of place in this cotton mill as he would at a reception at St James’s Palace.
Pasting a smile on his face, he tried to shake off the strong sensual reaction she’d elicited. As he walked over to meet the committee, he hoped by the time they finished the tour and returned to his office, where he would answer their questions, she would cease distracting him, else he might not be able to remember the speech he’d prepared.
After all, he had about as much business admiring the physical attributes of a Lady of Quality as he would those of a celestial being. 


 

Award-winning historical romance author Julia Justiss has written more than thirty-five novels and novellas set in the English Regency and the Texas Hill Country.

A voracious reader who began jotting down plot ideas for Nancy Drew novels in her third grade spiral, Julia has published poetry and worked as a business journalist.

She and her husband live in East Texas, where she continues to craft the stories she loves. Check her website for details about her books, chat with her on social media, and follow her on Bookbub and Amazon to receive notices about her latest releases. For special subscriber giveaways, discounted books, character sketches and more, sign up for her newsletter at:

https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h7r3n5

Website: www.juliajustiss.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/juliajustiss
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JuliaJustissAuthor
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/juliajustiss/
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-justiss
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/juliajustissauthor/
Amazon Author: https://amzn.to/2RK34RO
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/63842.Julia_Justiss

Julia Justiss  is graciously offering an ecopy of THE ENTICING OF MISS STANDISH  to TWO lucky commenters at The Reading Cafe.

1. If you have not previously registered at The Reading Cafe, please register by using the log-in at the top of the page (side bar) or by using one of the social log-ins.

NOTE: If you are having difficulty commenting after logging onto the site, please refresh the page (at the top of your computer).

2. If you are using a social log-in, please post your email address with your comment.

3. Please LIKE & follow Julia Justiss on Facebook

4. Please Follow Julia Justiss on Goodreads

5. Please LIKE The Reading Cafe on FACEBOOK and then click GET NOTIFICATION under ‘liked’ for an additional entry.

6. LIKE The Reading Cafe on Twitter for an additional entry.

7. Please FOLLOW The Reading Cafe on GOODREADS for an additional entry.

8. Please follow The Reading Cafe on Tumblr

9. Giveaway open internationally

10. Giveaway runs from August 1-6, 2020

Share