A Change of Pace by J A STEVENS is a sapphic Regency romance, perfect for fans of Gentleman Jack and the Netflix series ‘Bridgerton’. Explore the wit, scandal and seduction of this enchanting period of history, but re-imagined through a queer lens.
Read on for an extract from the first chapter.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Strikingly beautiful, ferociously strong-minded and famously rakish, London socialite Miss Georgina ‘George’ Pace has seduced many beautiful women in her time. Her days are not quiet: when she isn’t running half-naked through the streets of London, she’s attending masques and balls, or seeking pleasure – and occasionally oblivion – in decadent dens of iniquity.
But while she is cavalier in her attitude to romance, Georgina is deeply protective of her friends and family. When she learns that her dear acquaintance, the innocent and vulnerable Mr Arthur Coombes, has been swindled by a corrupt gaming house, she will stop at nothing to restore his fortune and bring his tormentors to account. Georgina’s quest for justice forces her to navigate a complex world of villains and secrets, and confront long-suppressed memories of a family tragedy. It also leads her to the enigmatic, intriguing and potentially dangerous Lady Elizabeth Mortimer, who offers assistance while keeping her cards close to her chest and remaining impervious to Georgina’s charms.
In attempting to save Mr Coombes, Georgina not only puts herself and those she loves in the path of danger, she also risks losing her heart. Will she keep herself safe – or surrender to her feelings?
This wickedly witty sapphic romp, filled with passion, intrigue and a fascinating cast of diverse characters, is sure to delight readers who enjoyed Julia Quinn’s ‘Bridgerton‘ series, Alexis Hall’s A Lady for a Duke, and the glamorous, bisexual energy of Taylor Jenkins Reid’s The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo.
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EXTRACT
CHAPTER 1
WITH TEARS OF laughter cascading down her cheeks, Miss Georgina Pace ran down the cobbled street, grateful that she had pulled her breeches on before climbing out of the first-floor window of her lover’s town house. She clutched her other garments to her naked breasts, concealing them from the curious eyes of the late-night London revellers.
What a disappointing end to an otherwise delightful evening. She lamented having to leave the soft warmth of the lady’s embrace, yet the inopportune arrival of a husband had made her presence rather awkward.
Panting for breath, Georgina slowed down as a rather prim lady – a large black plume curling from her elaborate coiffure – came around the corner. From her raiment, the lady may have just stepped out of Almack’s, one of London’s finest theatres. She gasped in astonishment, and on impulse, Georgina exposed one rounded nipple at her and winked.
The lady shrieked and hurried away, leaving Georgina chuckling. Her sides hurt from laughing at the absurdity of her own behaviour.
She had only been back in London for a few short hours, and already she courted a scandal. Her friends would think it most typical of her to be making mischief already; Sarah would lament her want of conduct, while Coulthurst would likely encourage her efforts, spurring her on to greater nonsense.
Georgina slipped into the shadows of a dark alley and shrugged into her shirt. She had scrunched her coat and shoved her cravat into one of her boots; now she unwrapped her makeshift bundle and dressed herself.
She tied her cravat loosely, wishing she had a mirror to make it more respectable. Never mind. Her next destination would not be fastidious about her attire. For now, she needed to track down her groom, Buckby, and have a word with him about his failure to keep watch for returning husbands and wives. This kind of mad dash from peril would not do at all. A proper dressing-down, and then she would ask him to escort her to Mem Lavigne’s.
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One of Georgina’s hands, adorned by a heavy signet ring, cradled a glass of port. The other hand massaged the fleshy hip of the lass seated on her lap, a beauty with long, strawberry-blonde locks, named Lottie.
Some hours had elapsed since Georgina decamped without warning from the arms of her lover. Her plans for an evening of light entertainment had gone to pieces. Since arriving at Mem Lavigne’s establishment, Georgina’s performance at the card table had deteriorated. Her bloodshot eyes, heavy with alcohol and fatigue, scanned her opponents for signs of weakness. She sipped her drink, waiting for the next round of cards to be dealt. This would be her final game, she promised herself, knowing she had already extended well beyond the resources she’d intended to gamble with. Of all the houses of iniquity, Georgina favoured Mem Lavigne’s enterprise the most. Not only was it located conveniently in the heart of Pall Mall, but it also offered the perfect blend of opulence and discretion. Anytime she came, they warmly welcomed her.
With a giggle, Lottie retreated, letting her flimsy, diaphanous negligee slip open just enough …
Shutters and heavy damask curtains darkened the room and protected Mem Lavigne’s guests from the scrutiny of the public milling by. Whilst many patrons opted to while away the hours shrouded in plumes of smoke at the gaming tables, equal numbers came to enjoy the alternative entertainment. Georgina often enjoyed both. Beautiful bodies, in varying states of undress, wandered amongst the patrons to be touched and enjoyed, and small alcoves allowed couples or groups to retreat for more intimate exchanges as desired.
The dealer presented the cards, and Georgina winked up at Lottie and squeezed her bottom, signalling for her to get up. The comely maiden had promised to bring Georgina luck. Not only had she failed to do so, but the constant wiggling of her hips against Georgina’s lap dragged her thoughts repeatedly away from the game.
‘Wait for me over there, Lottie.’ She gestured behind her. ‘I shall not be long.’
With a giggle, Lottie retreated, letting her flimsy, diaphanous negligee slip open just enough so that patrons could see the shape of one ample breast before she took herself out of view.
Georgina appreciated this tactic periodically employed by the house to distract its sponsors from card play. The house always won in the end, but at least it made the losing pleasant.
Her eyes tried refocusing on the cards, as reds, blacks, spades, and diamonds blurred amongst clubs and hearts; her head pounded like an insistent drum, thrumming along to her heartbeat.
Georgina had enjoyed some good fortune earlier in the evening, but now that Lady Luck favoured the house, she knew it was a fool’s game to continue.
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The house dispatched Georgina one final time, and she let out a resigned sigh, folding her cards in defeat. She thanked the dealer for the game and drained the rest of her port before going to find Lottie.
Seeing her companion waiting patiently nearby, Georgina snaked an arm around her waist and led her in search of a free alcove set off along the side of the suite.
Guests already occupied several of these chambers, some with shades securely closed to maintain their privacy. The primal grunts, groans, and squeals coming from behind the feeble barriers whetted the imagination of anyone wandering past. Other guests, meanwhile, did not even bother to shield their activities with a curtain.
Georgina suspected this formed part of the amusement for many people. That spectators were watching their lustful pursuits was exactly what drove such patrons wild with hunger. She did not indulge in this whim herself, though she basked in the openness and freedom that Mem Lavigne’s establishment offered to those of such tastes. Few places could rival the liberal and diverse service offered here, and Georgina enjoyed being able to do what she wanted without judgment.
Lottie unfastened the silk tasselled cord that held back a thin curtain. The drape tumbled free, protecting them from prying and voyeuristic eyes.
‘You are looking well,’ Georgina said, allowing Lottie to remove her midnight-blue coat from her shoulders.
Lottie tossed the jacket aside and drew Georgina farther into the room. ‘It’s been a while since you left town. Why did you not come back after Christmas like you promised?’ She pushed Georgina down into the thick-satin chaise longue and straddled her legs.
‘A necessary change of plan, my dear.’ Georgina blinked blearily at the large bosom confronting her face.
Lottie placed a trail of kisses along her temple and brow, and Georgina closed her eyes. Lottie’s lips were full and moist against her skin, yet her best efforts were failing to haul Georgina from her inner reverie.
‘What’s amiss?’
Georgina should have known Lottie would be too astute to allow her mood to pass without remark. She also knew her fair friend would doggedly inquire until she received a satisfactory answer. A sour taste seeped into Georgina’s mouth. ‘My visit to Cornwall over Christmas did not go as anticipated, and I needed to rusticate in Yorkshire for a while removing myself from society while the dust settled.’
Lottie froze, leaving her luscious breasts pressed against Georgina’s face. ‘Was it another woman?’
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J A Stevens is a passionate and emerging voice from Brisbane, Australia, dedicated to reshaping historical narratives through the lens of inclusivity. As a mother to a wonderful daughter with Down Syndrome and partner to an inspirational transgender woman, J.A. draws from a well of personal experience that enriches her storytelling.
Her own journey with Autism (ASD), coupled with her love for historical romance, fuels her literary pursuits. Stevens envisions a world where history celebrates all, aiming to craft alternative tales where visibility, equality, and love flourish. Her writings are a mosaic of diversity, weaving together themes of sexual orientation, gender, race, and disability.
Each of her novels is anchored by a stirring LGBTIQ+ romance, intertwined with traditional love stories, ensuring a wide-reaching appeal that transcends boundaries and invites all to find themselves within the pages of her books. A Change of Pace is her debut novel.
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