top of page
  • N. N. Light

Something in the Air: Two Regency Novellas by Regina Jeffers is a Historical Fiction/Romance Event pick #historicalromance #mustread #giveaway



Something in the Air: Two Regency Novellas



Regina Jeffers



classic fiction collections; Regency romance; historical Regency fiction; novellas, historical British literature; classic romance fiction


Book Blurb:


Courting Lord Whitmire: A Regency May-December Romance


At the bend of the path, an unexpected meeting.


She is all May.


He is December. But loves knows not time.


COLONEL LORD ANDREW WHITMIRE has returned to England after spending fifteen years in service to his country. In truth, he would prefer to be anywhere but home. Before he departed England, his late wife, from an arranged marriage, had cuckolded him in a scandal that had set Society’s tongues wagging. His daughter, Matilda, who was reared by his father, enjoys calling him "Father" in the most annoying ways. Unfortunately, his future is the viscountcy, and Andrew knows his duty to both the title and his child. He imagines himself the last of his line until he encounters MISS VERITY COOPERSMITH, the niece of his dearest friend, the man who had saved Andrew’s life at Waterloo. Miss Coopersmith sets Whitmire's world spinning out of control. She is truly everything he did not know he required in his life. However, she is twenty-two years his junior, young enough to be his daughter, but all he can think is she is absolute perfection.


Last Woman Standing: A Clean Regency Romance


She is simply his grandmother's companion.


However, when the Christmas ball ends, the last woman standing wins the marquess.


JACKSON SHAW, the Marquess of Rivens, never considered the “gypsy blessing” presented to his family during the time of Henry VIII truly a blessing. He viewed it more as a curse. According to the “blessing,” in his thirtieth year, at the Christmas ball hosted by his family, he was to choose a wife among the women attending. The catch was he possessed no choice in the matter. His wife was to be the one who proved herself to be his perfect match, according to the gypsy’s provisions: a woman who would bring prosperity to his land by her love of nature and her generous heart. In his opinion, none of the women vying for his hand appeared to care for anything but themselves.


EVELYN HAWTHORNE comes to River’s End to serve as the companion to the Marchioness of Rivens, his lordship’s grandmother. However, Lady Rivens has more than companionship in mind when she employs the girl, whose late father was a renown horticulturalist. The

marchioness means to gather Gerald Hawthorne’s rare specimens to prevent those with less scrupulous ideas from purchasing Hawthorne’s conservatory, and, thereby, stealing away what little choice her grandson has in naming a wife, for all the potential brides must present the Rivenses with a rare flower to demonstrate the lady’s love of nature. Little does the marchioness know Hawthorne’s daughter might not only know something of nature, but be the person to fulfill the gypsy’s blessing.


Excerpt from “Last Woman Standing”:


Realizing she must move or freeze to death, she set out again. Following the sign pointing to a narrow lane, she plugged along, side-stepping the deeper snow drifts. Spotting an opening in the wood line, Evelyn hurried forward, wanting to be out of the cold and the dampness. “I shall be fortunate not to come down with an ague.”


It was then she heard the cracking sound beneath her feet, and she halted in place. “Blast and double blast!” she lamented. She dared not move, fearing the ice upon which she stood would crack again, and she would tumble into the frigid water beneath. “How could I have mistaken a frozen pond for a glade?” The idea dumbfounded her. She was customarily quite sensible. Tilting her head back, she called out to the Heavens, “Now what, God?” She lifted her skirt, better to view the ice beneath her feet.


“Perhaps I may be of assistance,” a distinctly baritone voice responded from somewhere off her left shoulder.


Evelyn dared not turn to view whoever had come to her rescue. Any movement could, literally, be her downfall.


“Assistance would be a blessing,” she assured the stranger.


She remained perfectly still as he circled what must be the banks of a pond. When he came into view, she blinked several times to clear her eyes, thinking she must be mistaken, for the man was the most handsome gentleman she had ever encountered. Although her interactions with members of the aristocracy remained limited, she recognized quality when she saw it. Dark, nearly raven-black hair. A well-hewn noble countenance. Full lips, turned up in an engaging smile. Nose, just a bit crooked. Full chest. Trim waist. And wearing a many-caped greatcoat that flapped open in the breeze, providing the impression of his being as strong and dangerous as an ancient conqueror of the land.


Quickly lowering her skirts, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “I am grateful for your presence, sir.”


“I do not often encounter a soul brave enough to venture upon Pandora’s Pond, unless, of course, the ice thickens to a reliable three to four inches, which it rarely does.”


Evelyn found herself blushing. Hopefully, with the darkening shadows, he did not take notice of her embarrassment. “I thought I had simply left the woods for an open glade,” she explained.


He glanced back to the tree line. “I suppose you did. Unfortunately, if you had entered from the opposing tree line, say, over there,” he pointed to the direction where he, evidently, had emerged from the woods, “there is a wider bank.”


Cold and frightened, Evelyn’s response exposed her exasperation. “I shall keep your advice in mind if I have the opportunity to pass this way again. That is, assuming you would agree to extend a hand in my rescue.”


He crossed his arms as if to ward off her growing outrage. “I am no longer certain that is the best course of action.”


Evelyn sputtered, “You cannot mean to walk away without a care? What if the ice cracks, and I fall in?”


“Exactly,” he said. “If the ice cracks from our combined weight, I will be forced to dive in after you, and it is excessively cold out here.”


“You coxcomb!” she growled, just barely stopping herself from stomping her foot in anger. “Very well. Go on about your business. I absolve you of any blame in my demise. I shall manage just fine.” Without waiting for his response, she lifted her small bag in her two hands above her head and gave it a heave-ho in the direction of the bank. Regrettably, the shift of her weight and the icy surface beneath her feet had her windmilling to keep her balance. Tumbling over backward, she lost the battle, slamming hard against the ice. Another louder crack of the surface followed, and Evelyn groaned in helplessness as icy water seeped in around her.


She heard the gentleman’s, “Oh, no. No. No. No!” but she did not turn her head to observe his efforts to reach her. Her vision was blurry, and her limbs felt too heavy for her to lift them.


It was then she felt his hands on her ankles. “Do not move!” he grunted. “I have you!”


He slid her across the ice, tugging her, heels first. As ridiculous as it would appear to those who had never experienced the warring sensation of the heat of his hands combined with the cold surface, Evelyn smiled in response.


At length, his hands were on her knees, then her thighs, and, finally, her waist. He maneuvered her to the side of where he was stretched out upon the ice. He wedged his hands beneath her back and lifted her carefully to a seated position, cradling her to him. “Tell me you are not injured,” he pleaded.


She pressed a wet glove to her forehead and sought a look at her surroundings. “Allow me a moment,” she murmured.


“I fear we do not have a moment,” he said in cautious tones. “We are still on the ice, and I do not think it will long support the both of us.”


Evelyn attempted to make sense of his words, but her head still buzzed, like a swarm of bees.


“Bear with me,” he said. She felt him prop her weight against what certainly was a large rock, and then his heat and his closeness were gone. She heard the crunch of his boots on the snow behind her, before, with a grunt, he lifted her upward in what was surely an awkward position for him. Swinging her around, he again placed her down, this time on the trunk of a fallen tree. He braced her in an upright position with a hand on her shoulder to keep her steady. The clean scent of soap and the heat of his body only added to her incoherence. Other than her father and grandfather, Evelyn had never been so close to a gentleman in her life. “You will pardon me, but I should examine the back of your head. You took quite a fall.”


Evelyn managed to shrug away his suggestion. “I only require a minute,” she insisted, blinking several times to keep his image in focus.


Up close, his smile was as breathtaking as she suspected it would be. “I see you possess pluck,” he said. “I like pluck, but now is not the time for it.”


Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):






 Audible (Virtual Voice Narration)


What makes your featured book a must-read? 


Books that evoke a strong emotion always have us asking for more. In this novella collection, the readers may experience the gamut of emotions: sadness, joy, excitement, fear, meaningful insights, and universal themes. As a reader, I am always drawn to books which align with my personal interests; therefore, I tailor my stories to draw the reader in quickly and for him/her to know a satisfying ending. You will find all of the above in these two tales.


Giveaway –


Enter to win a $40 Amazon gift card:



Open Internationally.


Runs March 21 – April 2, 2024.


Winner will be drawn on April 3, 2024.


Author Biography:


Regina Jeffers writes books about corsets, rakes, daring heroines, dashing heroes and all aspects of the Georgian/Regency era. She is an award winning author of cozy mysteries, historical romantic suspense, and Austenesque vagaries. Jeffers has been a Smithsonian presenter and Martha Holden Jennings Scholar, as well as having her tales honored by, among others, the Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense, the Frank Yerby Award for Fiction, the International Digital Awards, and the Chanticleer International Book Award.


Social Media Links:


Every Woman Dreams (Blog)

Always Austen (Group Blog)

1 comentário

N. N. Light
N. N. Light
01 de abr.

Thank you, Regina, for sharing your book in our Historical Fiction/Romance Bookish Event!

bottom of page