Judith Hale Everett > Recent Status Updates

Only 12 more days until Piqued and Repiqued will release on all booksellers!

Book 5 of the Branwell Chronicles is set to launch November 20! You can preorder it now on your favorite retailer!

My latest book, A Knowing One (the expanded version of the novella) will be launched in May via KICKSTARTER. The campaign is NOW live!
I'm so pleased with how the book is turning out, with new characters, new motivations, and meticulously researched historical detail to give the story authenticity and interest. I hope you will consider backing my Kickstarter campaign! Search "A Knowing One" on Kickstarter to find it

"He won't tear me limb from limb!" replied George, his lip curling.
Ferdy failed to derive any consolation from this, and said, in an indignant voice, "What's that to the purpose? Very likely to tear ME limb from limb!"

"Yes, but the one I mean is in Shakespeare," said Hero. "I expect it's the same one, because he was for ever writing plays about real people."

A horrible suspicion crossed Ferdy's mind. He stared fixedly at her, and said: "You ain't a blue-stocking, are you?"

This is one of my favorite Georgette Heyers. The writing is so brilliant, the humor so subtle, and the characters so 3-dimensional that I can read it over and over again.

The hands that in one lightning movement had ripped off his domino, closed like a flash about his throat, and tightened suffocatingly. He clawed at them, struggling violently. A drawling voice said in his ear: 'I shan't strangle you this time, Lethbridge. But I am afraid--yes, I am really afraid it will have to be that pond. I feel sure you will appreciate the necessity.'

There was an odd sensation in the pit of Mr. Drelincourt's stomach, but he replied: 'Oh, never better! Never better, I assure you.'

'For myself,' said Mr. Puckleton, 'I shall leave it all to Forde. To tell you the truth, Crosby, I've never acted for a man before. Wouldn't do it for anyone but you. I can't stand the sight of blood, you know. But I have my vinaigrette with me.'

During the Regency, "British cultural constructions of race and ethnicity shifted at different rates and inconsistently in Britain and India."

Captain Staple, tightening his hold on this vital, yielding armful in a manner as gratifying as it was uncomfortable, responded to the mute invitation promptly and thoroughly, and forgot the world until Beau (his horse), possibly affronted by such behaviour, or perhaps hopeful of further largesse, nudged him with sufficient force to recall him to a sense of his surroundings.

"The thing is I've got no fancy for one of these dashed suitable marriages, where you don't really care a fig for the girl, or she for you. I don't mean to offer marriage to any girl who don't give me a leveller." --Captain John Staple

"I took the opportunity to go off in an hysteric of weeping. After this, I hope you will allow, that whenever you want a representative of Niobe, you have only to command my services." -Caroline DeVere

“The virtue that always requires to be watched is not worth guarding.” -Fanny Mornington

“There are trifles in the way of attention that stamp our hearts with gratitude through the years...(sometimes) kindness is of a peculiar value.”

I'm hard at work on the second book in my new traditional Regency romance series, the Branwell Chronicles: Romance of the Ruin, set to release the end of April. The title parodies that of the popular gothic romance by Ann Radcliffe mentioned in Jane Austen's Emma, but the story is a little more sensible and a lot more humorous.

"Lord Montrose has inserted himself into my life quite unavoidably, and though my instinct has been to repel him, I do not know if I ought to persevere.” Genevieve looked up at her companion. “If I force his eye from myself, I fear it will too naturally alight on Lenora.”
“It’s like that, is it? Then you are in a hobble.”

A snippet from this part of the book:

Lenora propped her chin on her hands and regarded her friend. “I don’t suppose any Dukes shall seduce me, Elvira, Chantilly lace or no, for
my mama has such stuffy notions of propriety that I am persuaded
she would never countenance such a thing.”

“Well,” admitted Elvira, if reluctantly, “I should think she
would not.”