The Ornithologist's Field Guide to Love (Love's Academic, #1)

by India Holton

A wise woman allows nothing to ruffle her feathers; she is the ruffler of feathers.

Outrageous! Rakishly scandalous! Actually quite soothing!

“Hippolyta and I may be associates, but there’s no space for loyalty or friendship when it comes to ornithology.”

The field ornithologist is a sophisticate, at ease with the diversity of people she meets in hotel lobbies and salons around the world.

And worse—after just two days in his company she’d begun using loose language, arguing, even veering dangerously close to banter. Much more of this and she might become sassy.

wouldn’t mind going to Australia,” she said primly. “I’ve always wanted to see the fanged emu.”

“Can’t practice ornithology without a little trespassing, a little theft, a little seduction of farmers’ wives.”

Even the drabbest bird can prove magical.

Ornithology is hardly a walk in the park. Er, except when it is an actual walk in the park to observe birds, of course.”

He cast her a wry look. “What kind of ornithologist would I be if I didn’t keep a hidden weapon?”

Really, only one thing was better than engaging with a wild magical bird (belatedly remembering your cup of tea but discovering it still warm).

Beth found herself driven to the verge of frowning. Why people—?! (That was the full extent of the sentence. Extroverts need not trouble themselves asking for an explanation.)

Never before had she felt so driven to homicidal inclinations. (Although not really. After all, murdering someone on the train led to appalling consequences, such as bloodstains, delayed timetables, and fictionalized accounts in cheap novels.)

for no Englishwoman worth her salt took care of herself if there was an opportunity to sigh instead and gaze wearily into teacups.

she wrapped both arms around it and ventured forth with such speed, several shocked pedestrians muttered to each other, “There goes a feminist!”

If it looks like a blackbird and sings like a blackbird, it might nevertheless grow sudden fangs and try to eat your face off.

“But—but—you’re proposing to kidnap Mr. Lockley and blackmail Miss Pickering,” Mr. Fettick gasped. Gladstone puffed out another smoke ring. “As I say, good old-fashioned ornithology.”

“However, if people insist on equating my ladylike manner with powerlessness, they are to blame for the consequences.

The wise ornithologist keeps her friends close and her enemies tied up somewhere they cannot trouble her.

“Good grief,” she muttered. “Why do people have to people?”

Out in the middle of nowhere is often where you find your answers.

“That’s just sex and death,” Oberhufter scoffed. “This is ornithology.

woman felt she could do anything if she had pockets.

inquiries and enrollments to the ornithology departments of all universities have more than tripled this week! At least twelve new applicants!