"The Cherry Trees of Rosings" by Morgan Blake ~ Blog Tour ~ Excerpt

Hello, my friends! I'm back again with an excerpt from Morgan Blake's new book, The Cherry Trees of Rosings! This looks like a cute story to me, and after reading the first couple of chapters (see below), I'm ready to read on!

The Cherry Trees of Rosings

by Morgan Blake

Publication Date: Oct 30th, 2025

Pages: 180, Kindle Edition

About The Book 

A Pride & Prejudice variation with a slightly paranormal, mainly comic twist! 

When Elizabeth Bennet visits her newly-married friend, Charlotte Collins, at the Hunsford parsonage, she has no idea that Mr. Darcy (he of the arrogant demeanor and perpetual cause of annoyance!) shall turn up to ruin her blissful, idyllic days. 

Only, Mr. Darcy is not himself. 

And then Elizabeth stumbles straight through him one day... like one would an apparition! Goodness gracious! 

 “Mr. Darcy, I do not know what you mean, but I would appreciate it if you would desist from haunting me!” 

 “I apologize, Miss Bennet, for scaring you,” Mr. Darcy said, almost regretfully. 

To solve her haunting problem, Elizabeth must team up with Mr. Darcy to find out what happened to him, and along the way discover that maybe he is not all that he seemed at first. And that maybe...she doesn’t hate him after all. 

 “You wish to write the letter now?” he asked as she moved past him with the candle. 

 “Well, to be honest,” she glanced at him. “I would prefer to sleep. But since you are here, I do not see why not.” 

From the antics of Lady Catherine de Bourgh to the hilarity of Mr. Collins’ advice on staying fit, The Cherry Trees of Rosings shall make you laugh and cry in equal measure. And wonder: Will our favourite couple find their happy ever after? 

Spoiler: Yes, they will! 

This Pride and Prejudice variation features our favourite Regency romance couple from Jane Austen's original classic in a somewhat spooky setup. But fear not, dear readers! This story is not scary in the least. Prepare for a chuckle fest and abundant cups of tea!

 

Excerpt: 

Chapter 1: An Eerie Encounter

Elizabeth Bennet had only been at the Hunsford parsonage for three days when she saw Mr. Darcy under the cherry trees. 

Her heart raced—a quick thump, thump, thump!—as she sped off the walking path to hide behind an ash tree. What was Mr. Darcy doing at Rosings? 

That was when she remembered: he was the esteemed nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. 

Elizabeth had yet to meet the benefactress of her cousin, Mr. Collins—though he spoke of her in practically every sentence, of every conversation, every day. She was certain one would not find a more devout champion of any patron anywhere in the lands if they tried. But she would not have to wait much longer to satisfy her curiosity about the lady. After all, they had received an invitation just that morning to present themselves at Rosings for tea. 

Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy from around the trunk of the ash tree. It appeared she had one less surprise waiting for her in those quarters.

She quickly turned around and started off on a different path for her morning walk.

 

The way she saw it, there was no need to inconvenience the gentleman with frivolous civilities and hellos. He would surely be the last person to welcome such overt social mores.

***

Later that evening…

Elizabeth finished arranging her hair in a simple fashion before stepping out of her room. The rest of the inhabitants of the parsonage were already at the foyer of the cottage.

“Hurry along! Hurry along! Charlotte, Sister Maria, Cousin Elizabeth!” Mr. Collins called. “We must not keep her ladyship waiting!” 

He was sweating profusely. Perhaps at the thought of arriving a few minutes late and having to prostrate at his patroness’ feet. Elizabeth coughed into her hand to cover her smirk as she joined them.

“Oh! What was that?” Mr. Collins asked, turning towards her. “Cousin Elizabeth, are you unwell?” He looked comically red in the face. “Perhaps you should stay behind. Her ladyship has strict rules about bringing disease into the great house!”

Elizabeth barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Though she did arch her eyebrows in amusement.

“I think I swallowed some dust. Nothing to worry about surely.”

“Dust? Did you say dust?” Mr. Collins’ eyes widened. He turned to his wife. “Charlotte! You must tell Mrs. Bishop to be more meticulous! I cannot have her humiliating me if her ladyship visits one day and sees such deplorable state of affairs. You know how…”

Elizabeth tuned out her hapless cousin’s words. It was surely an irony that the man had a housekeeper named Bishop—one who had arrived at the recommendation of Lady Catherine herself—while he worshipped nobody higher than his patroness. She only hoped that Charlotte would not be too vexed at her for stirring up Mr. Collins’ humors. 

“Mr. Collins, I assure you,” Charlotte said, with the patience of a saint once her husband stopped to catch his breath. “I have matters well in hand. Perhaps we should start for Rosings if we wish to arrive on time.”

“Yes, yes, at once!”

 

The party soon left the cottage.

…and reached Rosings, right at the dot of four o'clock.

It never failed to amaze Elizabeth how Mr. Collins managed to arrive everywhere at just the precise hour. But she could not ponder on it too long as they found themselves following the butler (rather briskly), as he led them to the west parlour of the house, where her ladyship was to be found. Though, she did notice—along the way—how unerringly accurate Mr. Collins had been in his description of all the interiors. Right down to the number of stained glass arches above every window set!

“And there, you see, right beside the doors are the prized suits of armour that were gifted to Sir Lewis de Bourgh during his lifetime. By the Earl of Nottingham, no less!” Mr. Collins announced helpfully. “Her ladyship prefers the light in this particular parlour at this time of the day. But not when her gout is acting up.” 

A steady stream of commentary on such matters had accompanied them all the way from the gates of the parsonage. And it did not appear Mr. Collins would stop anytime soon.

 

Elizabeth eyed the armours. They were polished to a shine and clearly well-maintained. So much that she wondered if they might spring to life any moment. But her attention was soon drawn away. 

Because, just then, the butler pushed open the grand doors of the parlour and held up a hand for them to wait.

 

He walked in. Nose in the air.

 

“Mr. Collins and Mrs. Collins are here, your ladyship,” he announced. “As are Mr. Collins’ two relatives.”

Elizabeth felt her eyebrows arch at the excessive ceremony. Then she wondered if she would find Mr. Darcy inside, sitting beside his aunt, and possibly his cousin. All their noses high in the air. Collective disdain palpable at the substandard guests about to enter their inner sanctum.

 

Her lips twitched into a grin.

“Yes, send them in!” A loud—slightly shrill but decisive—voice boomed out from within the parlour. 

It startled Maria Lucas. Enough that she clutched at Charlotte’s arm. But there was no time to offer any reassurances.

They were now very much within the lioness’ den. 

Chapter 2: No Green Beans

“Mr. Collins, you know how I despise green beans!”

 

Lady Catherine’s brows drew down with annoyance as she looked over the tiny list Charlotte had handed her a few moments ago. It was about the gift baskets the Collinses were tasked with distributing for Easter; one of the yearly tasks of the parsonage.

 

“You shall not present that vegetable to the congregation,” she emphasized, mouth twisting into a moue of distaste.

 

Mr. Collins nodded his head vigorously. “Indeed, your ladyship.”

 

“Potatoes will do very well. Very well, indeed…”

More head nodding from her cousin.

 

Elizabeth held back a chuckle as the spectacle unfolded before her.

 

She had been somewhat right in her estimation of Lady Catherine from Mr. Collins’ extensive effusions. But once the introductions were made, she was pleasantly surprised to find that the great lady was even more ridiculous than she had imagined. Her father would be dearly entertained by such human folly once she wrote to him.

 

“Potatoes are vegetables for the hard-working,” Lady Catherine continued sagely. Then she picked up a cream tart from the platter before her and bit into it.

 

“You are quite right, your ladyship, as always,” Mr. Collins said. “I merely wished to place the beans in the baskets for the sick—”

“You should speak on the virtues of potatoes in your sermon, Mr. Collins,” the lady said, dusting off the crumbs from her fingers before fixing a glare on her parson. “Remind them of their good fortune and the evils of laziness.”

 

Elizabeth discreetly watched as a stray crumb held on to dear life against the whiskered mole to the side of Lady Catherine’s mouth. The one to the left of her beaked nose.

 

“Mrs. Collins, you may ask Mrs. Stone to give you some of the dried orange peels she is making with Jenkinson. A little bit of colour will not be unpious in an Easter basket. Mr. Collins, you must remind the congregation to keep their homes clean and take baths regularly…”

Yes, Elizabeth would have to write to her father soon.

But there was one thing that surprised her greatly that evening.

 

Mr. Darcy never appeared.

Not once.

 

Nor did his aunt mention him outside of one lengthy diatribe on how he and Miss Anne de Bourgh, Lady Catherine’s daughter, were made for each other. And that he needed to hurry up and do his duty by his family by marrying her.

 

It confused and perturbed Elizabeth.

 

Did the man consider himself so above them that he could not be bothered to join them for tea? 

Or… was she mistaken about who she had seen earlier that day?

***

The next morning, when Elizabeth neared her favourite walking path, she was startled to see Mr. Darcy under the cherry trees once more.

 

The blossoms were gently floating around him, falling out of the white- and pink-hued boughs. There was a crisp breeze blowing through the trees. It was a vision of peace and tranquility.

 

Elizabeth stood there for a moment, and simply gazed at him.

  

No one could deny that Mr. Darcy was an exceedingly handsome man. And standing where she was, she could almost feel her heart softening at the sight.

 

That was… until she remembered his odious behavior in Meryton and what he had said about her on their very first meeting. A familiar grimace replaced the smile she had not realized had appeared on her lips. Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and approached him.

 

“Hello, Mr. Darcy!” she called, as she neared. “How are you doing on this fine day?”

The man seemed to jolt into awareness at her voice.

 

He turned, fixing her with a gaze of such intensity that she took an unconscious step back.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said. Then he peered at her in confusion.

 

“I am visiting Mr. Collins and his wife at the parsonage,” she offered helpfully. “You may know the new Mrs. Collins as Charlotte Lucas from when you were last in Meryton.”

Mr. Darcy did not reply.

 

When the silence became awkward and he continued to stare at her oddly, Elizabeth asked, “Did you only just arrive at Rosings?”

The confused look on Mr. Darcy’s face intensified.

 

“Rosings?”

Elizabeth tipped her head to one side. She did not believe she had ever been in an interaction as strange as the one she was in right then.

  

“Yes. We had tea there yesterday.” A frown touched her brows. 

“Perhaps you heard about it from your aunt?”

Mr. Darcy’s unceasing stare was beginning to disconcert her. Elizabeth felt a strange coldness tip-tap down her spine. She took another step back.

“Right, well… I shall leave you to it,” she said. She gestured at the blooming cherry trees around them. “Good day, Mr. Darcy!”

She practically fled the scene. 

About the Author

Morgan Blake writes regency romance novels and Austenesque variations of Pride & Prejudice that are sometimes steamy, sometimes not. Satire is the name of the game and happy ever afters the goal!

Morgan loves exploring themes of personal identity, inner strength, social discourse, and hope alongside enduring love in her stories.

She also believes that strong heroes and heroines are not enough to make a tale worth telling. They need a supporting cast of good and not-so-good characters that add more punch and vibrancy... and some dramatic ridiculousness!

Morgan is a cat friend, tropical girl who prefers winter clothes, perennial fantasy/scifi/historical fiction nerd, and a night owl.

Connect with Morgan

Website • Facebook • Instagram

Book Links

Amazon US (paid link) • Books2Read (universal link)

Add to Goodreads

FTC Disclaimer: Link to Amazon. I am an Amazon Associate. I will receive a small commission, at no cost to you,  if you purchase a book through the link provided. Thanks!

Thank you, Morgan, for stopping by today! Fantastic excerpt! I enjoyed it so much! Congratulations on the release of The Cherry Trees of Rosing!

So friends, what are your thoughts? Did that excerpt tempt you also? Let us know in the comments below! 

Captain Wentworth ... In His Own Words by Shannon Winslow ~ Blog Tour ~ Spotlight & Excerpt!

Hello, my friends! It's been almost a year since I posted! Time flies, doesn't it? I'm back to share Shannon Winslow's newest book, Captain Wentworth ... In His Own Words. This is the fourth book in her In His Own Words series.

Captain Wentworth 

... in his own words

by Shannon Winslow

Publication Date: Sept. 18th, 2025

Pages: 320, Kindle Edition

Book Blurb:  Captain Wentworth has a lot of explaining to do! Why did he fly off in such an unreasonable rage when Anne tried to put their engagement on hold? And why didn’t he come back to try her again as soon as he was more financially secure? So much time wasted! What about his bad behavior when they met again years later – flirting with the Musgrove girls right in front of Anne? Was that really necessary? 

Find the answers in Captain Wentworth in His Own Words. Catch a glimpse of his difficult childhood, and learn how he ended up in the Navy so young. Witness his first meeting with Anne, their falling in love, and tragic parting. Sail along on his daring adventures at sea. Before he meets Anne again, Captain Wentworth has travelled the globe. He’s risen to riches and respect. Yet, he’s still missing the one thing needed to crown all his other success: the woman he’s never stopped loving. 

This is not a variation from but a supplement to the original story of Persuasion, chronicled in Wentworth’s point of view. It’s a behind-the-scenes look at the things Jane Austen didn’t tell us about one of her most iconic heroes.

 

Excerpt

Might it have been better had I simply refused to go to the wedding that day? I have asked myself that question a thousand times, for that is where I met Anne Elliot. Had I not gone, our paths would in all probability never have crossed. I would have left Somersetshire and returned to sea with my heart and my confidence still intact, and with my conscience untroubled as well. Despite how things have turned out, however, to wish now that we had never met seems monstrous, as if I contemplated cancelling the finest woman I have ever known out of existence… out of my existence at least. How could I do that when I still love her?

That is the unhappy fact of the matter, which I lately have been forced to concede; I am still in love with Anne Elliot… even after the insult of her rejection, even after the devastating blow to my pride, and even after the more than eight years and a half of our separation following. One would think the flame would have guttered and died long ago with nothing to fuel it any longer. I meant for it to do so; I meant that I should forget Anne entirely. I convinced myself that I had, nearly, and that it would be safe to see her once again.

I was wrong. One look at her at Uppercross, and, against my will, the buried sparks immediately began to smolder again.

And to think it all started with a simple decision to attend a wedding. Once there, the introduction to Anne Elliot could hardly have been avoided. It fell quite literally straight into my hands.

About the Author

Shannon Winslow approaches writing JAFF a little differently, adding onto rather than varying from canon, giving us prequel, sequel, and supplemental views of favorite characters. Shannon, who has authored eleven Austenesque novels so far, lives with her husband in the log home they built in the countryside south of Seattle, where she writes and paints in her studio facing Mt. Rainier. Visit her at her website/blog and follow her on Facebook.

Book Links

Amazon* (paid link)

Add to Goodreads

*FTC Disclaimer: Link to Amazon. I am an Amazon Associate. I will receive a small commission if you purchase a book through the link provided. Thanks!

Thank you so much for including me in your blog tour, Shannon! And congratulations on your new book! 

I, for one, am glad Wentworth went to that wedding and met Anne Elliot! What are your thoughts?  Please feel free to leave a comment, and thanks for stopping by!

"Georgiana Darcy's Magical Meddling" by Leah Page ~ Excerpt & Giveaway!

Hello, my friends! I'm delighted to have Leah Page on the blog today with an excerpt from her new book, Georgiana Darcy's Magical Meddling! 

Leah is also giving away an eCopy of her book! Details are at the bottom of the page.

Book Blurb 

Sixteen-year-old Georgiana Darcy harbors a secret—she's recently discovered she is a witch! Under the tutelage of a wise and witchy companion, she spends her days casting spells and plotting the occasional hex against the irksome Miss Bingley. 

When the tea leaves reveal that her brother, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, is destined to meet his one true love at a local assembly, Georgiana cannot resist using her newfound powers to eavesdrop. Unfortunately, the encounter is far from magical. Fitzwilliam's clumsy attempts at affection are doomed without her intervention. Armed with her trusty diary and a knack for magical mischief, Georgiana vows to document—and secretly improve—each of her brother's courtship efforts, ensuring he never strays from his path to true love. But when Lady Catherine de Bourgh senses a budding romance, the stakes rise. 

Will the fledgling witch secure her brother’s happiness and manage the magical realm’s unpredictable twists? Or will her enchanted endeavors fizzle just when she needs them the most? 

Humorous, heartfelt, and utterly enchanting, Georgiana Darcy's Magical Meddling invites you to experience Darcy and Elizabeth’s romance through the eyes of a clever, charming, and slightly meddlesome young witch. Her diary isn't just a record of magical mayhem—it's a confirmation of the love, laughter, and lunacy that make up her witchy life.

 

Excerpt

Chapter One

Midday, 24 October 1811

Dear Diary, 

     I am bursting with excitement. Today I learned the most thrilling news! Tonight, my brother will meet his one true love! Mrs. Annesley, my companion, read Fitzwilliam’s tea leaves (after he left the table, of course), and that is how I discovered it. He is to attend a ball with his friend, Mr. Bingley. There, he will meet his one true love. Is that not the most romantic thing you have ever heard? It is doubly romantic given Fitzwilliam’s aversion to attending balls, as will be the case tonight.

     I suppose I should start from the beginning, little niece, as you are likely quite confused by now. Greetings from your Aunt Georgiana, who, as it happens, is also a witch. I have started a fresh diary for your benefit, as you are likely a witch as well. Do not worry about others finding this book. My companion has placed a spell on the pages that allows only witches to read them. After all, it would not be proper for those without magic to peruse the secrets held within this tome.

     I learned of my powers when I met my companion, Mrs. Annesley. Before her, I had a terrible companion who took advantage of my youth and inexperience and led me astray. We will not discuss that further. Suffice it to say Fitzwilliam (your father) separated me from that lady posthaste upon discerning her vile nature. He then introduced me to Mrs. Annesley, and I could not have been happier with any other companion. 

     Mrs. Annesley is the third daughter of a baron. As she explained it to me, females of rank almost always have magical powers. Their power is, usually, the reason the family gained rank and power in the first place. However, the wealthiest and most powerful homes have long forgotten their powers and stopped practicing. Perhaps, having grown complacent like fatted calves, these families saw no need to pursue their arcane studies further. It is likely that my own mother, the daughter of an influential earl, was a powerful witch. Unfortunately, she died when I was a small child, so I never learned from her. It is possible she was never even aware of her talents.

     Yet, this tale concerns both Mrs. Annesley and my own foray into the craft. As I said, Mrs. Annesley is the third daughter of a baron. Though he held a title, he was not particularly wealthy or powerful, and thus, the ladies of that family never stopped practicing their craft. Witchcraft can be a potent boon for a gentleman. A witch who knows what she is about can secure bountiful harvests, avert blights, and influence her husband towards wise investments. Men may fancy themselves powerful and clever, yet it's truly the women steering the course. Remember that, little niece.

     At the age of twenty, Mrs. Annesley left home to marry Mr. Annesley. He was the second son of a gentleman farmer, and though he did not inherit the family property, he did receive a very lovely little place along the shore in Kent. Mrs. Annesley has shown it to me in visions, so I can attest to the beauty of the home and setting. Alas, their love was but brief, her husband succumbing to a consumptive disease mere years after their union. I asked once why she did not save him, and she explained that witchcraft does not work like that. She was able to offer him comfort, but even a witch cannot suspend God’s will. Currently, a tenant rents the house in Kent, which adds to Mrs. Annesley’s small annuity. She opts to serve as a companion until she deems herself ready to wed anew or till work becomes untenable with age. 

     That is quite a sad story and not at all why you are here, dearest niece. You are here to learn the story of your father’s one true love. And to do that, I must share my background a bit. When Mrs. Annesley became my companion, she began to test me in small ways to understand my powers. Given my father's considerable lands, she suspected our lineage harbored latent talents, but when she learned my mother was the daughter of an Earl, she was convinced I had dormant abilities. 

     At first, she tried me in little ways that were hardly decipherable to me. For instance, she once offered me tea that was terribly hot, but before it settled on my tongue, I had unwittingly cooled it. Another time, she spelled a young child with messy hands to hug me close. I was left with small handprints of sticky syrup along my skirt. While the child’s mother apologized for her son’s actions, I took out my handkerchief and dabbed at the stains. They removed themselves with no more effort than a wave of my cloth across the untidiness. I was quite unaware that I had used magic to clean myself, for it happened unconsciously. 

     Once she was satisfied that I did possess some powers, she tested me further. One day, Fitzwilliam joined us late for breakfast. He greeted each of us and turned to the buffet to make his selections. My reply of, “Good morning, Fitzwilliam,” barely had time to echo before the morning’s tranquility was shattered —not by the expected clink of China, but by an unexpected maneuver from Mrs. Annesley. Without warning, she sent the sugar bowl hurling through the air toward Fitzwilliam, who stood behind me, gathering his breakfast from the buffet. 

     A sudden "eep" escaped me, an instinctive reaction to the potential disaster I sensed rather than saw. My hands reached out futilely, as if I could somehow catch the bowl through sheer will. But the expected crash never came. Confused, I turned just in time to see the sugar bowl floating to the ground before landing innocuously behind me on the floor, as if it had chosen to leap from its perch in a bid for freedom and then thought better of it.

     “Georgiana, why is the sugar on the floor?” My brother placed his plate near mine and then stalked behind me to pick up the dish. 

     Stammering, I managed, “I, uh, deemed the sugar too great a temptation and opted to remove it from my sight, especially since my dresses have grown snug around the middle.” A lame excuse, but the only shield I could muster on the spur of the moment.

     “Nonsense. You look quite well, sister. In any case, if you desire to limit yourself, have a footman remove it from the table. Placing it on the floor is a filthy habit. What would Father have said had he lived to witness this?” His words were stern, yet I sensed his concern was born more of confusion than reprimand.

     My eyes darted across the table to my companion. Her expression was one of unperturbed serenity. She sipped her tea as if flying sugar bowls were among the most common breakfast activities. I admit I was a trifle irritated with her at the time. But when we settled in the yellow salon later that morning, she shared the news of my powers with me, and all was forgiven. 

     That is a bit of a stretch. All was not immediately forgiven because I did not believe her claims. She reminded me of the child’s sticky hands, but I dismissed that. “That was not magic,” I argued, “it was the result of my own actions.” With a scoff, she dotted my skirt with jam! Before I could set myself back to rights, she stilled my hand and suggested that I could clean one stain but leave the other for my abigail, La Roche. The spot I chose disappeared with no more than a wave of a napkin, but La Roche was forced to spend several minutes scrubbing the spot with water and soap before it was put to rights. 

     Since that day, she has been teaching me to harness my powers. I have practiced just a few short months, so I have not yet learned much, but I am able to make the roses bloom on command, and I can sweeten my tea as desired without adding so much as a cube of sugar or a drop of cream. That is a more useful spell than one might imagine. Miss Bingley’s tea, so bitter it could scandalize, would surely appall you. She allows it to steep for far too long, and the result is an undrinkable brew. With a small tap of my index finger against the porcelain cup, I can take tea with the lady without gagging. 

     Mrs. Annesley has advised me to keep my powers secret for the time being. Fitzwilliam himself remains oblivious to these powers. He is also, obviously, ignorant of her tea reading skills. Be careful of the lady who always offers to take up the teacups, for I have discovered that is Mrs. Annesley’s tactic. Whenever possible, she reads everyone’s leaves. 

     And that, my dear niece, is the abbreviated tale behind this new journal’s beginnings. But let us move on to more exciting things. As I mentioned, I have delicious news. Tonight, your father will meet his one true love (as told by his tea leaves this morning) and I have chosen to record their love story for you. If your mother turns out to be as reticent as your father, then you shall never hear the story without my intervention. 

     My brother and I recently arrived at the estate of Mr. Charles Bingley. Mr. Bingley is Fitzwilliam’s good friend. I believe they met during their time at Cambridge, though Mr. Bingley is a few years younger. Mr. Bingley resides at a place known as Netherfield Park. It lies in the county of Hertfordshire just outside a small village called Meryton. I do not believe Fitzwilliam has yet to meet anyone in the community, though perhaps he has met a gentleman or two. He and Mr. Bingley did go shooting yesterday and men do like to do those things in groups. But the point is that Fitzwilliam needs to meet a lady, and I do not believe he’s yet had that pleasure. So, unless he plans to accidentally stumble upon a lady this afternoon, the only place he could possibly meet his one true love is at the ball.

     My brother is the best of men, but young as I am, I am not blind to his faults. Fitzwilliam might, at best, be described as reticent. He might, at worst, be described as a pompous snob. He hates to be the center of attention and is very uncomfortable among new people. Unfortunately, when he is uncomfortable, he often appears to be rather terrible, at least to those who do not know him. That is why tonight is so special. For a man as reserved as my brother to find his one true love amid a public ball —oh, it will be truly amazing! I cannot help but wonder about the lady who will capture his attention. Will she be shy like Fitzwilliam, or will she possess a natural wit and vivacity that will help to draw him out?

     Because I am not yet out, being sixteen, I asked if there was a spell that would allow me to watch the events unfold without attending. Mrs. Annesley believes there are several that might work and is just now checking her books to determine the best options for a young, inexperienced witch. While she is searching her spell books, I shall share some necessary background information for the sake of my future nieces. 

     I have been studying the art of tea reading myself, but I have not yet mastered it. Yesterday I believed I read that Mr. Bingley would fall off his horse, but it turns out that he was only to fall off the porch, and even that interpretation was not quite right, for he simply tripped down the final step and landed with surprising grace on his feet in the driveway. 

     Mrs. Annesley’s predictions always prove themselves to be correct, however, which is why I was so excited to hear this morning’s forecast. My brother (your father) will meet his one true love this evening, and I will finally have a sister! And eventually, little one, I will have you, too. 

***

     Mrs. Annesley returned with a list of possibilities. There are, it appears, three spells suitable for a witch of my novice level to witness another's experiences. The first is a transformation spell. This enchantment might allow me to attend the ball not in person but cloaked in the guise of a small creature. Alas, as a fledgling witch, it is unlikely I could master the art of assuming a form as complex as a bird, to perch unnoticed at the event. Mastering a mouse's form might be within my reach, yet how much could I discern from a vantage so low upon the ground? Inevitably, I would startle at least one lady, and likely a gentleman too, with my mousey presence. Someone might even swat at me with a broom, or perhaps a cane. Attending a ball as a mouse seems like a very good way to lose my life. 

     The second type is a mirror spell. This would necessitate charming an object already present at the ball. It would then act as a mirror, allowing me to see events happening around the room. Unfortunately, I do not have the ability to place an object at the ball because I will not be attending. 

     The final option is a riding spell. This is the most complicated of the options, but it is probably the only one that is truly available to me. A riding spell would enable me, the witch, to experience events through another's senses. Obviously, I would need to charm Fitzwilliam for his are the eyes and ears that will matter this evening. Mrs. Annesley has assured me this is physically taxing magic and has urged me to take a long afternoon nap so that I can maintain the connection for the duration of the ball. So that is what I shall do. 

     I will return this evening to share what I learn. Wish me (and Fitzwilliam, of course) luck!

About the Author

Leah Page loves books, hiking, and the Bengals (Who Dey!).  She has a passion for travel, is doing her best to learn Spanish, and has plans to live “a little bit of everywhere” when her husband retires. For now, you can find her sitting at her writing desk in Kentucky while her sidekick pup sleeps in her lap.   

Leah writes Pride and Prejudice fan fiction. If you would like to learn more, visit www.leahpageauthor.com. 

Book Links

Amazon (paid link) • Goodreads

FTC Disclaimer: Link to Amazon. I am an Amazon Associate. I will receive a small commission, at no cost to you,  if you purchase a book through the link provided. Thanks!

* * *GIVEAWAY * * *

Leah Page is offering one free e-copy of Georgiana Darcy’s Magical Meddling to a lucky reader. To qualify for the drawing, enter below. Good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Many thanks to Leah Page for stopping by today! Congratulations on the release of Georgiana Darcy's Magical Meddling! 

I absolutely loved that excerpt. It was so fun. I'm looking forward to reading the rest of the story! How about you? Let me know in the comments below. 

"Darcy's Struggle" by Kelly Dean Jolley ~ Blog Tour ~ Excerpt & Giveaway!

Hello, my friends! I'm excited to have Kelly Dean Jolley visiting today with an excerpt from his new book, Darcy's Struggle! Plus, Meryton Press is giving away an eCopy of the book. Details are at the bottom of the page.

Darcy’s Struggle

by Kelly Dean Jolley

Blurb 

Brilliant, sensitive, and private, Fitzwilliam Darcy finds himself at the Meryton Assembly, consciously troubled by recent events in Ramsgate and unconsciously troubled by himself.  He insults Elizabeth Bennet, at whom he has only glanced. 

It is not until she appears at Netherfield—full of life, skirted in mud, and eager to attend to her sick sister—that Darcy truly looks at her. When he does, he knows she is the woman he has been searching for, the elusive her of his heart. He falls for her completely…despite her apparent unsuitability to be the Mistress of Pemberley and his half-hearted efforts to convince himself he can live without her. 

Shortly before Elizabeth leaves Netherfield, Darcy apologizes for what he said at the Assembly. Will that apology and the depth of his sudden but durable feelings give him hope with Elizabeth? Might George Wickham’s arrival frustrate his hopes, especially after Darcy blunders into a marriage proposal to Elizabeth?  

Romantic, reflective, and ironic, this is a story told from Darcy’s point of view, a story of the struggle from intellect to heart—a deliberate character study and a delicate love story. 

 

Excerpt

Darcy’s knock at Richard's door received a hearty "Enter!"

     He did and found Richard already changed. Darcy envied him in small ways—particularly his readiness, his quickness, the product of a soldier's life. The lack of formality. It showed not only in the man’s ability to doff and don clothes but also in his comfort in circumstances high and low, his adaptability. He was a soldier, dutiful, a man of rectitude, but even Wickham would not claim Richard had a stick up his bum.

     Richard carried his territory with him; he belonged everywhere.

     Darcy, by contrast, was comfortable only in few places, around few people. Luckily, one of them was Richard. They jostled each other, sometimes hard, but they were as close as brothers.

     Richard smirked at him. "So, it finally happened—a woman mounted up to that tiny window at the top of that tall, tall tower, and found you there, entangled in yourself, waiting to be rescued."

     Darcy could not help it—he barked a loud laugh. Richard! "Am I the damsel in distress?"

"I fear it has long been so. You have been under a curse. ‘The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge.’”

     The quotation made Darcy think of his parents again and their mismanagement of their children's education.

     "Why is everyone quoting scripture to me lately? Bingley's been doing it!"

     "Eh? Returning the favor. And by the way, where is your hypochondriac, lovesick friend?"

     "Genuinely lovesick this time, I judge. He entered into a courtship on Friday with the sister, Jane Bennet, of my betrothed. But you've missed him today. He must have passed you on the road; he's gone to London to prepare for the wedding…and to attend to errands."

     "And where is Bingley’s sister—that is, his other sister, the one who intends to give you an heir and a spare before she begins to conduct personal virility tests with London's fashionable male population."

     "Richard! She is, well…she is insincere—but that?" He was never quite prepared for his cousin’s frankness, although he knew to expect it.

     "I do admire you, Darcy, but you are sometimes an imbecile. That woman does not want you, she wants Pemberley. But she does have wants, other wants, itches, that she's left unattended, and she will eventually scratch them…on someone."

About the Author

     Kelly Dean Jolley, a professor at Auburn University, has penned several novels. His first, Big Swamp, is a detective novel, which he followed with a Christmas mystery, The Vanishing Woman. He also composed a book of poetry, Stony Lonesome.

 

       Using the pseudonym Newton Priors, he released three additional novels: Balter (A Retelling of Pride and Prejudice), Tides of Bath (A Retelling of Persuasion), and a Western, Heaven and Hell: A Romance. 

       Professor Jolley has made contributions to many academic publications as well. He is the author of The Concept 'Horse' Paradox and Wittgensteinian Conceptual Investigations, the editor of Wittgenstein: Key Concepts, and has published over forty academic articles. He is a past Alumni Professor and currently the Goodwin-Philpott Endowed Chair in Religion and Professor of Philosophy. 

Connect with Kelly Dean Jolley

Facebook • Instagram • Blog

Purchase Link for Darcy's Struggle

Amazon US (paid link) • Universal Buy Link

FTC Disclaimer: Link to Amazon US. I am an Amazon Associate. I will receive a small commission, at no cost to you,  if you purchase a book through the link provided. Thanks!

Other Meryton Press Books by Kelly Dean Jolley

Big Swamp - Amazon US (paid link)

The Vanishing Woman - Amazon US  (paid link)

Coming soon from Kelly Dean Jolley and Meryton Press

Pride, Prejudice, and Pretense (A spy novel, a romance, and a character study)

Blog Tour Schedule

June 12 - From Pemberley to Milton

June 13 - My Vices and Weaknesses

June 14 - Austenesque Reviews

June 17 - My Jane Austen Book Club

June 18 - So little time… ~ You're here!

June 20 - Interests of a Jane Austen Girl

June 21 - Delighted Reader Book Reviews

* * * GIVEAWAY * * *

It's giveaway time! Meryton Press is giving away an eBook of Darcy's Struggle to one of my lucky readers! To enter, leave a comment below with a way to contact you, or check back here, where I will announce the winner.

• One person will win an e-copy of Darcy's Struggle.
• Winner will be randomly picked.
• To enter the giveaway, leave a comment below and provide a way of contacting you, or check back for the winner announcement.
• Open internationally.
• The last day to enter the giveaway is June 25th, 2024, by the end of the day.

Good luck!

Many thanks to Kelly Dean Jolley for stopping by and sharing an excerpt with us! Congratulations on the release of Darcy's Struggle.

Thanks to Meryton Press for the giveaway, and a big thanks to Janet Taylor @ More Agreeably Engaged for organizing and including me in this blog tour!

I hope you enjoyed the excerpt as much as I did! I can tell I will love this Colonel Fitzwilliam, my favorite secondary character! Let me know your thoughts in the comments! 

"What Ought to Have Been" by MJ Stratton ~ Blog Tour, Excerpt, & Giveaway!

Hello, my friends! Today, the lovely MJ Stratton is visiting with us! She is sharing an excerpt and is giving away a copy of her new book, What Ought to Have Been! 

Details for the giveaway are at the bottom of the page.

What Ought to Have Been

A Sense and Sensibility Variation

by MJ Stratton

Book Blurb

Retribution belongs to God, and I am ill-equipped to carry it out in His place. ~Elinor Dashwood 

     Before leaving Norland forever, Elinor Dashwood forms an attachment to Edward Ferrars. Her tender regard remains constant when the four Dashwood ladies remove to Devonshire, taking up residence at Barton Cottage. Elinor’s hopes for the future are shattered when she unwillingly becomes the confidante of Lucy Steele, learning that Lucy has been betrothed to Edward for four years.

     However, Lucy fails to secure Elinor’s vow of secrecy. When Marianne finds Elinor in her misery, the sisters share confidences, leading Marianne to compare Edward’s honorable conduct with that of John Willoughby. Her musings lead to some startling revelations, igniting a spark of defiance within her. 

     Determined to right the wrongs done to her and her beloved family, Marianne takes matters into her own hands. While Elinor may be ill-equipped to exact God’s retribution, Marianne is not. Armed with determination and resolve, Marianne Dashwood sets out to achieve her aims by any means necessary. But can she complete her journey without losing herself in the process? 

     Told from both Marianne and Elinor’s points of view, What Ought to Have Been is a Sense and Sensibility variation that ensures all the story’s villains receive their just desserts.

 

Excerpt: Poor Elinor! After learning of Edward’s engagement, she seeks privacy to grieve.

Elinor sat on the bed and pulled open the drawer of the small bedside table. She pulled out a thick sheaf of papers that were carefully stored inside an oiled cloth. She had sewn pockets into the pouch to keep her drawings from being damaged. Opening it, she leafed through the sketches until she found the one she sought.

 

Edward’s face smiled up at her, and her heart fluttered. She cherished this picture, for it captured his expressive eyes and the true character that hid beneath his usual reserve. Yet now, Elinor wanted to tear it up and burn the pieces, so intense was the anguish that now overwhelmed her. Typically not prone to overt displays of emotion, she longed to scream out the injustice that had been done to her. 

She understood that Mrs. Ferrars held stringent expectations for her son's choice of a wife—expectations that Elinor markedly did not meet. And yet, she had dared to hope that someday he would be free to claim her hand if he resolved to make his own way in the world. Now that hope was gone; even if Edward were free of his mother’s requirements, he would still not be able to marry her. Yes, he was even more out of reach than she had realized.

Tears began to fall, and Elinor did nothing to stop them. She buried her face in her pillow, weeping quietly, the picture of Edward clutched tightly in her fist. When her tears finally subsided, she sat up and smoothed the wrinkled paper. She then slid the sketch back into the pouch, placing it behind all the others where she would not readily come across it, and then returned the pouch to the drawer. 

Her room was bitterly cold, as the fire would not be lit until closer to bedtime to save fuel. Elinor welcomed the frigid air, allowing it to seep into her bones, willing it to numb the pain. When her mother called her for dinner, she felt more composed and joined her family directly.

       Marianne sat silently at the table, as had been her habit since John Willoughby had departed Devonshire. Though her sister had not spoken of it, Elinor assumed that she and the gentleman had formed an understanding before his departure. Charlotte Palmer, Mrs. Jennings’s daughter, had brought news from London that it was being said around Town an engagement was indeed in place; Marianne had not confirmed it was so, at least not to Elinor.

Elinor’s relationship with Marianne had been strained since their father’s death. The sisters were very different in manner and temperament. Where Elinor was quiet and strived to maintain propriety in all circumstances, Marianne was not as circumspect; her passion and zeal for life often overrode good sense, and she had some strange ideas about love. Marianne’s heart was good, though, and she did not love by halves.

 

Elinor’s sister had been pale and quiet for some time. After Mr. Willoughby’s departure, she had wept for days, inconsolable by anything or anyone. Now, her grief was melancholic; she stared through the window at nothing for hours or played sad songs on the Middleton’s pianoforte. Marianne took long, solitary walks and came back looking wind-chapped and ill. Elinor thought she looked frail, and her dresses hung on her frame, a testament to her depressed spirits.

Elinor had disdained her sister’s overt behavior these last weeks, but now after her own trying afternoon, she thought she understood Marianne better. It took all her will to keep her emotions tightly contained, and she wished she could let herself be more like Marianne—that she might cry and wail, and wander about morosely in her heartbreak. But no, she was the reasonable, responsible sister, and falling to pieces before her family would do nothing to aid in her heartache.

After dinner, the family gathered in the small parlor just off the hall. A large fireplace warmed the room, and they settled around it, reading books, mending, or working on their embroidery. Marianne stared listlessly into the blaze, her hands idle in her lap, and Elinor felt irrational anger rising in her chest at her sister’s behavior. No such luxury would be given to Elinor! But was it truly anger, or was it jealousy? She was uncertain.

 

       She forcefully stabbed the needle into the handkerchief she was embroidering, yelping as the point pricked her finger. She stuck the wounded finger into her mouth. Mrs. Dashwood eyed her curiously, but Elinor ignored her, returning her attention to the fabric in her hand. Blessedly, her mother did not remark on Elinor’s uncharacteristic carelessness and simply returned to helping Margaret with the stitch she was learning.

Elinor glanced down at the fabric and was relieved that no blood had stained the white cloth. It was sure to be a lovely handkerchief when it was finished, but Elinor suddenly found herself too restless to focus on the fancy work. She set it aside and pulled a novel out of her workbasket. Opening it, she attempted to read.

She was grateful when it was finally time to retire. Marianne followed her up the stairs like a wraith—silent and slow. Their bedchamber was warmer than it had been earlier, but barely so. The coals in the fireplace burned low, a reminder of their limited resources. Elinor knew that she and Marianne would have to manage with what little they had, for their funds were in short supply and fuel was deemed a luxury.

They readied for bed in haste; the numbness of a broken heart did not shield from the cold. With woolen socks on their feet and dressing gowns worn over their night clothes, she and Marianne huddled under their covers, waiting for their shared body heat to warm them.

Marianne drifted off quickly, leaving Elinor alone in the dark, staring into the blackness and reliving the terrible recitation of Miss Lucy from earlier that day. The equanimity she had strived for earlier shattered, and tears once began to fall onto her pillow once more.

 

She began to better understand Marianne’s despondency at being separated from Mr. Willoughby. How fortunate her sister was to have secured her lasting happiness! Oh, how Elinor envied her.

About the Author

MJ Stratton is a long-time lover of Jane Austen and her works, having been introduced to Pride and Prejudice by a much-beloved aunt at the age of sixteen. The subsequent discovery of Austenesque fiction sealed her fate. After beta reading and editing for others for nearly a decade, MJ started publishing her own work in 2022. MJ balances being a wife and mother with writing, gardening, sewing, and many other favorite pastimes. She lives with her husband and four children in the small, rural town where she grew up.

Purchase Links

Amazon (paid link)

Add to Goodreads.

FTC Disclaimer: Link to Amazon. I am an Amazon Associate. I will receive a small commission if you purchase a book through the link provided. Thanks!

* * * GIVEAWAY * * *

It's giveaway time! As part of this book tour, MJ Stratton is giving away an eCopy of the book What Ought to Have Been! Enter through the Rafflecopter below! 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Good luck!

Many thanks to MJ Stratton for stopping by today!

Oh my, poor Elinor! But I'm so glad that Elinor isn't sworn to secrecy to Lucy and can confide in Marianne in this variation. I'm so curious how this will play out! How about you? What do you think? Let me know in the comments below!