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    No, Not that Jane Austen
    No, Not that Jane Austen
    No, Not that Jane Austen
    Ebook46 pages34 minutes

    No, Not that Jane Austen

    By Marilyn Grey

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    About this ebook

    This is a short story prequel to The Best of Fools.

    The complete opposite of her parents, Jane doesn't like reading love stories and can't stand all things romance, but most especially she hates her name. "No, not that Jane Austen," she's said so many times to so many teachers, friends, and strangers, while lamenting the fact that her parents named her after one of their favorite authors, the very author who sparked their own love story.

    Jane isn't looking for a love story, and on the eve of her 18th birthday she happily considers changing her name and finally steering her life away from the self-imposed expectations that come with it, but ... she meets a charming British boy on his way back home and everything she's fought hard to control suddenly becomes irresistible.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWinslet Press
    Release dateMar 28, 2015
    No, Not that Jane Austen
    Author

    Marilyn Grey

    Some people wake up and grab a cup of coffee ... I wake up and grab a cup of romance, drink it down, and allow it to affect my vision for the rest of the day. I'm hyped up on it. So, naturally it bleeds into all things that I write and experience. I believe romance is all around us. From nature to music to the way we walk down the street. That's what I hope readers will see when they read my books. A deeper romance than the surface of mere sensuality.

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      Book preview

      No, Not that Jane Austen - Marilyn Grey

      It seems that it is a truth universally unknown that every girl in the world is not looking for a romance.

      I clicked my pen and stared at my bedroom wall. Every one of my girl friends—and I do mean every.single.one—went to see the latest Nicholas Sparks flick. I stayed home as usual. Not my thing, really. I preferred intense dramas or maybe even a little action. Plus I majorly procrastinated on my English essay.

      I wrote my name at the top of the paper and shook my head. The idea of marriage didn't appeal to me, at least not any time soon, but I can tell you this ... the idea of changing my name appealed to me.

      Tomorrow I'd turn eighteen and, against the oh so old-fashioned ideals of my parents, I planned to get a few tattoos I'd been dreaming about. Or ... spend that money to change my name. The decision consumed me.

      I tried to finish my homework, but Donovan kept interrupting me with his hilarious text messages, then finally he rang my phone.

      I'm trying to finish this paper, I said. Aren't you supposed to be doing the same? I know you haven't started either.

      I finished it last week. He laughed. Come on, let's hang out one last time before my trip.

      I really should finish this paper, but it does sound tempting.

      I need to give you a gift for your birthday anyway.

      I'm taking you to the airport tomorrow morning, remember? You can do it then.

      All right, all right. Finish the paper and if it's early enough maybe we can get a coffee? He paused. Wait, never mind, I forgot. You're Jane and you start your start your essay's the night before they're due and stay up until sunrise to finish them.

      I smiled. Exactly. Except it's due Monday and today is Friday, but there's no way I'm spending my birthday weekend writing this.

      And that's exactly what happened. I stayed up until the light poured into my room and as much as I wanted to pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep, I shoved them off of me, rolled out of my fluffy cloud, and rubbed my eyes. I skipped a shower, ate breakfast as fast as humanly possible, and drove to Donovan's house. I was early, but I wanted to see him for at least thirty minutes before he left.

      He jogged to my car and flopped down in the passenger's seat, stuffing a backpack between his legs as he buckled up.

      Happy eighteen. He reached over the armrest and pulled me into a hug. How does it feel?

      You tell me. I backed out of his driveway. You experienced it five days ago.

      He tapped the door. Eh, we'll see.

      Sounds hopeful.

      He tilted his head and stared at me.

      What?

      Shaking his head,

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