Seven Minutes in Heaven by Eloisa James is a romance that hit all my catnip: a sensual, banter-rich romance with a heroine who owns her competence and a hero who melts in spite of himself. Eugenia Snowe, twenty-nine and seven years widowed, runs the most elite governess registry in London. Theodore Edward Braxton Reeve or “Ward” to his friends, is a brilliant inventor and newly minted guardian who storms her office in dire need of help with two hellion half-siblings, Lizzie and Otis. Their first clash is all sparks and sharp wit; their second involves letters that slide from businesslike to dangerously personal; and before long, one carriage ride and one unguarded afternoon turns into a reckoning neither of them planned.

Ward is a delicious contradiction: rangy, scarred, and outrageously confident in every arena but the heart and reminds me a bit of Jack Devlin from Suddenly You by Lisa Kleypas. A bastard son who has had to fight for every scrap of respect, he is practical to a fault and allergic to pretense. He tells himself Eugenia is a temporary distraction, a problem to be solved with a fortnight’s worth of indulgence. Then he sees her with his siblings; clear-eyed, kind, and unflappable, and the ground shifts.

Eugenia is exactly the sort of heroine I adore: clever, decisive, and sensual beneath a polished exterior. She believes in structure and small, steady acts that teach children how to become themselves. And when she chooses Ward, she does it with open eyes and a body-thrumming joy she cannot control; no coyness, no flutters, just a woman claiming what she wants.

The tug-of-war between them is beautifully rooted in who they are. Ward’s past has taught him that titles and drawing-room polish are masks; he trusts usefulness, honesty, and results. Eugenia’s upbringing prized unconventional genius but left her craving the calm of rules well kept. They meet in the middle; at the worktable, in the nursery, by the water; until tenderness becomes inevitable and heat explodes. James writes their intimacy with humor and abandon; it is raw, playful, and deeply attentive, the kind of coupling that makes you grin even while your heart squeezes.

I especially loved the sibling arc: Lizzie’s fury and strange magic, Otis’s single-minded schemes, and Ward’s awkward, earnest attempts to be exactly what they need. There is a marvelous moment of clarity when Eugenia watches Ward with the children and realizes that she is falling; it is quiet and sun-drenched and utterly persuasive.

On the other hand, the first half meanders a touch, and the prose occasionally reaches for ornate vocabulary that jarred me out of the scene. Once the midpoint hits, though (as was the case with my last read Not That Duke by Eloisa James), the story tightens, the emotional stakes rise, and Ward’s brand of sensual, commanding devotion takes over in the best way.

By the time the final act rolls around, we get the grand gesture Ward needs to make things right; public, unequivocal, and exactly the scale this couple deserves, followed by a warm glimpse of their hard-won domestic bliss. He learns to see Eugenia’s worth beyond his hunger; she refuses anything less than being chosen first; and together they are incandescent.

Recommended for: those who love widowed-heroine romances, heroes with brains and brawn, guardian/children subplots that matter, sparkling banter, and frankly joyous steam.

Final Verdict: Witty, earthy, and achingly tender; Ward and Eugenia blaze from sparring to soul-deep. A luscious, grown-up historical that pays off big.

Favorite Quotes

“You are far too marvelously endowed to be likened to apples,” he said, nodding agreeably.
She must be going a bit mad, because she heard herself say, “Earlier today, I was thinking that they will be the size of a pair of ostrich eggs in a few years.” His eyes glittered with a dark emotion that she had no trouble interpreting, though she hadn’t seen it for years. Lust.
Desire.
“All mankind lives in hope,” he said. A husky note in his voice made her want to both leap toward him-and out of the carriage.

Ward was standing in the water to his thighs, his right hand holding Lizzie’s, and his left, Otis’s. Both children were floating on their backs, lying on the surface of the water as if they were made of thistle-down. His hair was spangled with sunshine, and the water eddied around the three of them in little waves.
Her eyes met his and Ward broke into the widest, most joyful smile she’d ever seen. His hair was plastered to his head and she could see the contours of his skull.
It was a magnificent skull. That very morning she had run her hands all over it, cupped his face and kissed him with every bit of passion she felt.
The truth struck her like a blow: she was falling in love.

Ward was lounging in his chair the way no gentleman was supposed to do. His hair wasn’t arranged in waves, or powdered, or even hidden by an old-fashioned wig. It was thick and wavy and so soft that Eugenia’s fingers curled into her palm at the memory of clenching them in his hair.
“Eugenia,” he said in a low voice. “You oughtn’t to look at me like that. Not here.”
“But you look delicious,” she said reasonably. He leaned forward and her eyes skated hungrily over his broad shoulders, over his strong neck and the cravat that framed his jaw.
Desire felt like a clawing animal inside her, making her breath catch and heat come into her lips.

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