Jane Eyre Austen

A new self-published novel which narrates the story of a girl called Jane Eyre Austen...

Jane Eyre Austen 
Doyle MacBrayne
Paperback: 310 pages
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform; 1 edition (May 10, 2013)
ISBN-13: 978-1484945414

Jane Eyre Austen has found her perfect match in her new boss, Grayson Poole. Of all the qualities she could desire, the most important is that he’s kind to her mother. Her very sweet, loving, adoring mother whose mind has chosen to remain in the Regency Era. Gray finds himself inexplicably drawn to a young woman who by all conventional standards is too young and peculiar. Gray never believed he would find love again and then Jane Eyre Austen turned his world upside down. She cast her eyes down as she entered, “I’m sorry sir. Cooper isn’t available. May I assist you?” She entered the room quietly and stood patiently by the door. “And you are?” he asked impatiently. Not Cooper, clearly. The young woman was dressed in an expensive suit, clearly designer, yet her shoes were inexpensive. Her huge grey eyes seemed to be assessing him quickly, and he realized she didn’t appear to approve of what she was seeing. She watched him warily; he was younger than she had assumed; perhaps late twenties. His suit hung perfectly on his athletic build of a swimmer or maybe a runner. His brown eyes alarmed her; they were deep chocolate, full of ire, surrounded by long lashes that seemed to be urging her closer. He smirked, his upper lip thin and curling, his lower lip pouting slightly. She felt a strange pull from the pit of her stomach and it pulsed with each beat of her heart. She held his gaze finding her courage to speak, “I am Jane, sir.” She watched his expression soften, amused. His dark hair fell into curls at the ends, longer than she expected for a millionaire mogul. His eyebrow arched, and he turned to look at the other man in the room. He was older, probably in his fifties, avuncular. Mr. Poole’s gaze swung back to her, “Just Jane? Like Madonna?” The sarcasm of his words slapped the air. Not quite the impression she was hoping to make on her first day with her new boss. The words of Mrs. Fairfax, suggesting she let him have it tickled her brain. She regained her calm, “my mother christened me Jane Eyre Austen, sir.” He chortled and she could feel the blood rise to her cheeks. “Your mother is fanciful I take it.” He said the words to be artful, but it was a painful truth. She bristled, “My mother hoped I would have some of the same qualities.” She wished he would just get to the point, “how may I assist you, sir?” Instead of answering he leaned back, a small smile playing at his lips and his eyes softened and warmed. “How was it for you dear Jane, growing up with a name of such import?” She held his gaze realizing he wanted to play a game she was definitely suited for. She tilted her head slightly, her brown hair cascading to one side. “In my early youth sir, I found it cumbersome. Now I am proud and strive to honor the women for whom I was named.”