This delightful, romantic debut follows a sophisticated Manhattanite who trades her fast-paced Wall Street life for the English countryside, and unexpectedly becomes a nanny to the children of a widowed British lord. Who is as infuriating as he is intriguing…
Jordy Greene has it all—the high-powered job, the high-octane New York lifestyle, the powerful lover—until she’s suddenly forced to flee the city. Running to avoid false charges of illegal trading and a destructive relationship, Jordy escapes to England. There she finds refuge in a cottage on the estate of the icy Lord John Grey—a descendant of the Nine Day Queen, Lady Jane Grey.
The four rambunctious Grey children are in desperate need of a nanny, and Jordy is in desperate need of a purpose—so they plunge into an investigation of the Tudor queen’s mysterious life and shocking death. Amid flying subpoenas, willful adolescents, outraged aristocrats, and an unexpected attraction to Lord Grey, Jordy struggles to regain control of her life. In the midst of the chaos, can she find the kind of happiness she’d never thought to have?
If The Sound of Music and The Wolf of Wall Street had a child, it would be the captivating Nannyland!
Praise for Nannyland
This book utterly and completely stole my heart.
I seriously loved this book.
This book is witty, charming and laugh out loud fun!
It is smart, witty, interesting, engaging, and, of course, it doesn’t hurt that it’s set in the idyllic English countryside.
This is a magical, lovely story, with history, romance and a beautiful setting.
Read an Excerpt
I CAUTIOUSLY STEERED the unfamiliar car through the massive stone gateposts, creeping along and hugging the left side of the road, as the rental agent had advised. “Stay to the left and you’ll mebbe come to no harm,” he had said dubiously, with an assessing glance at my uncombed hair and drooping eyes.
Well, you’d look tired, too! I wanted to snap. You try skipping out of New York just one step ahead of the sheriff and flying economy in the middle seat of a Turkish Airlines flight!
But by now the fight had left me, and I felt myself shrinking in my seat as the car jerked unsteadily up the winding, tree-shaded, mile-long drive. Finally, Bradgate Hall loomed ahead, just as it was pictured online: a massive, mellowed stone country house. Green ivy climbed lazily up the ancient walls, and wildflowers dotted the meadow in front of the house. It was centuries old, lovely, and utterly intimidating to an exhausted, air- and carsick American.
Renting a cottage from an English milord would be restful and relaxing compared to the past weeks, ducking subpoenas and fleeing the country. Reminding myself that this would be my refuge, I stopped the car in the middle of the forecourt and approached the house.