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My Better Life

Look inside My Better Life – A new Romcom by Sarah Ready

Sneak peek of My Better Life: Book 6 of the Soul Mates in Romeo Romance series by Sarah Ready. Best selling romcom book has a woman and man on a farm featuring farm animals and the man is in a tuxedo.

My newest romcom was released on July 19th, 2022 and I wanted to share a look inside My Better Life with you.

When East Coast elite and wealthy bachelor Gavin Williams wakes up in a rural West Virginia hospital, he doesn’t remember who he is or where he’s from. His life is full of holes and secrets, desires and dreams, and as Gavin learns more he begins to wonder—will he ever remember? And what happens when he does?

My Better Life is Book 6 in my Soul Mates in Romeo series. 

Check out this look inside My Better Life:


Look inside My Better Life

I wave my hand in the air, making a chopping motion. “I can’t do it. I’m done. I’m going to tell him everything. I can’t do it.”

It’s late afternoon. I rushed through cleaning houses and called Diedre and Gran so we could have this chat. 

Gran tosses the bean she’s shelling into the bowl. “Now why would you go and do a thing like that?”

Diedre narrows her eyes on me and I flush. “I…uh…well…” 

Gavin’s mouth on mine flashes through my mind, the way he touched me, the way he looked at me, what he said. 

Diedre gasps. “You had sex with him.”

Gran snaps her long, fat shelling bean in half, and I flinch at the violent motion, because if there was ever a woman imagining snapping a man’s willy in half, that was it. 

“Jamie Lynn.”

“I did not!” I deny, but then I go and ruin it because I can feel my face growing hotter. 

Gran shakes her finger at me. “Look at you wiggling like a worm in ashes.”

I hold still and stop shifting my feet on the old tile floor.

Diedre grins. She loves Gran’s old sayings. “Good one, Granny Allwright.”

Granny doesn’t have time for nonsense. “You hush, child. Jamie Lynn, you listen to me.” She points at the pile of shelling beans. “But while you’re listening, shell these. I’ve a truckload of them to get done.” 

I pull out a wooden chair, the one with the old cross-stitched chair pad with a whisk and the phrase “Don’t be afraid to take whisks.” I scowl at it.

I grab a handful of beans and start snapping. “Gran. Diedre. I’m having second thoughts. We thought Gavin was a terrible person, but it turns out, he’s not. He’s really not. I don’t feel right—”

“Listen here,” Gran interrupts. “Did he insult you?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Did he sign a contract, have you slave on a project for months, and then renege, taking nine thousand dollars rightly owed to you?”

“I mean, yes, but—”

“And did he cause you to fall and shatter the work you could’ve sold to someone else, robbing you of even that income?”

“Okay, yes, but—”

“And did he then walk out and tell you he would never pay and that your art, your life, and you were ugly and uninspired?”

“But Gran, I don’t think he meant it.”

Gran gives me a pitying look. “He meant it.” 

Diedre sighs. She has a small pile of shells in front of her that she’s shredding into fine strips. By the look of the pile, I don’t think she’s ever shelled a bean in her life. 

“I agree with Granny Allwright. I know a lot about men.” She opens her eyes wide. “A lot. Just the other day, one of those repressed city boys messaged me and…” She looks over at Granny Allwright, then thinks better about what she was about to say. “Well, needless to say, a man never speaks the truth when he’s trying to…err…make whoopie.” 

Gran snaps another shell and I flinch. 

Diedre widens her eyes at me and nods meaningfully. “I can guarantee, if a man is trying to…make whoopie…”

“Diedre, for crying out loud, just say sex. I’m eighty-seven years old. I was doing the deed long before your daddy was even old enough to wank his own stick.” 

Diedre coughs into her hand and I grin at her. Diedre’s dad was a legendary ladies man in his day, and everybody on the mountain knows it.

Finally, Diedre gets her coughing under control. She clears her throat. “That’s all well and good, but my point was, if a man wants to have sex with you, then he’ll say and do anything. If he doesn’t want to have sex with you, his true colors come out. Before Gavin lost his memory, he didn’t want to have sex with you, so he showed his real self. Now, he’s like a bear, chained to a tree, and you’re the only honey pot he can access. Of course he’s going to treat you nice. Of course he’s going to be charming. He’s being nice, right?” She narrows her eyes. 

I nod. “Yeah. Real nice.”

Gran snaps another bean.

Diedre gives a satisfied smile. “I thought so. It’s not that he’s changed. It’s that he thinks you’re the honey pot. Don’t let his charm the honey pot routine distract you from your goal.” 

I look at her forlornly. “What’s my goal again?”

Gran clicks her tongue. “Just desserts, Jamie. Getting what’s coming. And what’s coming is not a biddable wife and dancing in the sheets.”

Diedre coughs. “Uh, thought we were saying sex?” 

I block out the image of Gavin and me rolling on my bed, the sheets wrapped around us. 

“Shush. I’m serious here. Repeat after me.” Gran stares me down like a general preparing her troops for battle.

I nod. “Okay.” 

“Gavin Williams is a no-good, selfish, horrible man.”

I flinch, but say, “Gavin Williams is a no-good, selfish, horrible man.” 

Gran nods. “I will not be swayed by sweet words, handsome looks, or”—she glares—“rampant sex appeal.”

Diedre snorts and covers her mouth with her hand. 

I sigh. “Gran…” 

“Jamie Lynn.” She crosses her bony arms over her chest.

I look up to heaven. She’s right. Diedre’s right. To use a cliché, a leopard can’t change its spots, it can only shave them off, but the fur always grows back. Gavin might seem different, but he’s only being nice because he thinks I’m the honey pot. He’s still the same man underneath. 

I firm my jaw and look at Gran and Diedre. 

“Okay.” I nod. My resolve is back. “I will not be swayed by sweet words, handsome looks, or rampant sex appeal.” 

Diedre grins at me. “There’s my best friend. Go get ’em, tiger.”


Did you love this look inside My Better Life?

Order your copy

to find out what happens today!

Romance writer Sarah Ready writes contemporary romance, romcom, romantic comedy, and chick lit.
Categories
My Better Life

Sneak Peek of My Better Life – Book 6 in my Soul Mates in Romeo Romance Series

Sneak peek of My Better Life: Book 6 of the Soul Mates in Romeo Romance series by Sarah Ready. Best selling romcom book has a woman and man on a farm featuring farm animals and the man is in a tuxedo.

My newest romcom launched July 19th, 2022 and I wanted to share a sneak peek of My Better Life – book 6 in my Soul Mates in Romeo Romance series.

When East Coast elite and wealthy bachelor Gavin Williams wakes up in a rural West Virginia hospital, he doesn’t remember who he is or where he’s from. His life is full of holes and secrets, desires and dreams, and as Gavin learns more he begins to wonder—will he ever remember? And what happens when he does?

My Better Life – Book 6 in my Soul Mates in Romeo series is available now! 

Check out excerpt #3 of My Better Life:


Excerpt #3 of My Better Life – Book 6 in my Soul Mates in Romeo Romance Series

The back of the station wagon smells like oily fish and wet dog. I grip the edge of the backwards facing seat and try to ignore the large, slobbering dog, with his maw less than two inches from my face. 

You always sit in the rear with the dog, on account that Granny gets carsick, my wife said. I shake my head, ignoring the pain, because…my wife.

Granny is an ancient, stick-thin woman, with garish orange lips and narrow beady eyes. She didn’t say anything when Jamie tugged me out of the hospital, gripping my arm, like she was afraid I was going to make a run for it. 

I nearly did when I saw our car. 

But Granny, she stepped out of the front seat, looked me up and down like she was taking my measure, and then spit on the dirt parking lot. I get the feeling my grandma-in-law and I don’t see eye to eye.

Then the kids tumbled out of the back and swarmed us, hugging my legs and jumping all over me with cries of Daddy! and We missed you!

Jamie pointed to them and said their names—Elijah, Tanner, Shay.

I figured I should’ve felt some sort of paternal love or some memory of holding them as babies. But all I felt was a massive headache and the urge to dunk them in a bathtub, give them haircuts, and find some flea powder. They’re filthy. They’re unkempt. They’re scabbed and dirty and missing teeth, and…the smallest boy, the one with orange hair and freckles like his mom, leans over the back seat and stares at me. 

“Hi Trevor.” I try on a smile. 

“His name’s Tanner.” The older boy, the more serious one with brown hair, rolls his eyes.

The little girl—she’d be cute, if she weren’t covered in oatmeal—meows and then licks her hand. I flinch. That hand is filthy. Then I sniff the air and gag. 

Tanner waves his hand in front of his nose. “That’s Scooter. He got into the coop and ate chicken poo this morning. It gives him gas.” 

I cough and then edge as far as possible from the overgrown, smelly mutt, but the darn dog just climbs closer. A long string of drool falls from his mouth and lands on my shoulder. 

The station wagon hits a bump and my head jackhammers. My wife drives like she’s in a police chase, taking hairpin corners at speeds that leave my stomach behind. I feel like I might be sick, and I can’t decide if it’s the smell coming from the dog, the kids staring at me, or my wife’s driving.

The car rumbles and coughs and we bump onto a gravel drive, moving into the shade of big pine trees. The whole drive, Granny’s been fiddling with the radio, trying to find the best reception for her banjo station. Now that we’re here, it comes in loud and clear. 

We passed the town limits a few miles back. The sign said Hollow Creek, but Jamie pronounced it Holler Crick. 

I take a deep breath and wipe my hands over my face. It can’t be that bad. My life can’t possibly be that bad. I’ve lived it, according to Jamie, for thirty years. I’ve survived, healthily and maybe happily, for decades. It can’t be that bad.

We pull around the bend in the drive and I lay eyes on our home.

It’s that bad.

The station wagon jerks to a stop. The kids cheer and practically somersault out of the back. The dog leaps over the seat and bounds after them. I shove open the back door. It swings wide with a rusty screech. 

I step out into the tall grass and take it all in. The moldering A-frame, the metal wire chicken coop, the piles of junk, the sound of a crowing rooster, the banjo still playing on the radio, and the musty scent of rotting cedar and wood smoke. My skin runs cold. This can’t possibly be my home. 

I thought I was wealthy. I’m poor. 

I thought I was single. I’m married.

I thought I was happy. I’m…

Jamie stomps through the grass and then stops next to me, looking out at the kids playing an impromptu game of chase around the chicken coop.

She beams at me.

I shake my head. This doesn’t feel right, it isn’t right, this isn’t where I’m meant to be.

“This…” I stop, my stomach knotting. “This is where I live?”

She squeezes me to her side. “Mhmm. Home sweet home.”

Order your copy

to find out what happens today!

Romance writer Sarah Ready writes contemporary romance, romcom, romantic comedy, and chick lit.
Categories
My Better Life

Excerpt #2 from My Better Life

Sneak peek of My Better Life: Book 6 of the Soul Mates in Romeo Romance series by Sarah Ready. Best selling romcom book has a woman and man on a farm featuring farm animals and the man is in a tuxedo.

My newest romcom is coming out July 19th, 2022 and I wanted to share excerpt #2 of My Better Life with you.

When East Coast elite and wealthy bachelor Gavin Williams wakes up in a rural West Virginia hospital, he doesn’t remember who he is or where he’s from. His life is full of holes and secrets, desires and dreams, and as Gavin learns more he begins to wonder—will he ever remember? And what happens when he does?

My Better Life is Book 6 in my Soul Mates in Romeo series. 

Check out excerpt #2 of My Better Life:


Excerpt #2 of My Better Life

My head hurts. 

There’s a crowbar in my skull tearing my brain apart. I can’t think it hurts so much. I want to peel the pain away, scratch it out of my head. It’s been like this for two days now, ever since I woke up in this horrible place.

Amnesia. Who gets amnesia? Isn’t that something that only happens in made-for-television movies? The doctors don’t know who I am. No one knows. Not even me. 

And the doctors claim I may never remember. 

I try not to think about that, because if I do, I feel as if I’m entering a dark, tiny room, and for some reason, that terrifies me. 

The doctors also said that my memories may come back all at once, or in a slow trickle over time. But there’s nothing I can do but rest and wait and see what happens. 

I don’t know anything about myself. But I do know that I don’t like to wait and I don’t like not moving. Even now, I itch to get up and leave. There’s someplace I’m meant to be, someone I want to see, I can feel it. I just don’t know where or who.

I pray that I’ll remember, or that they’ll find me.

I glare at the woman standing in front of me. She’s not pretty. I don’t know why this strikes me as something I care about, but there it is. She’s not cute.

I don’t recognize her. Not at all. 

“Who are you?” I flinch at the noise of my own voice. It feels like nails punching into my head. 

She blinks at me. And I decide to amend my earlier opinion. She’s not pretty, but her eyes, her lavender blue eyes, are stunning. She nervously licks her lips, her pink tongue darts quickly over her wide mouth and she looks down at the hospital sheet pooled around my hips.

“Billy,” she says, her voice soft like flowing honey. “It’s me, Jamie.”

I start to shake my head, but then stop. Because that hurts too. I want to say, who is Billy, but then I realize Billy must be my name. 

I can’t remember…I can’t…I can’t remember my name.

Billy.

Okay.

Billy is short for William, and when I think William, there’s a whisper there at the edge of my lost memory. 

“Who are you?” I ask again.

She clasps her hands in front of her chest, innocent blue eyes wide, frizzy red hair a halo in the hospital light. “Baby, it’s me. Jamie. Your wife. I’m here to take you home.”

My wife? Her face blossoms into a beatific smile, like the Madonna under the shining light of heaven. I can’t say anything, except… 

“No.”

Because I don’t know who I am, I don’t know who she is, and I don’t know what’s going on. But I do know one thing. I never would’ve married a short woman with red frizzy hair, a flat chest, unflattering clothes bought off the rack at a discount superstore, and a southern drawl that sounds like it’s echoing off a hillbilly’s mountaintop. 

I would never do that.

I don’t know who I am. But I do know that I have a certain taste in women, and this Jamie person doesn’t hit the mark.

At all.

“Sorry. No.” 

She grins at me. “Aww. Come on, Billy baby. Gran and the kids are waiting in the station wagon.” 

That’s when my world screeches to a halt. 

“Kids?”

“Course. Elijah, Tanner, and Shay. Lord almighty, Billy. How hard did you hit your head?” 

She leans forward and brushes her fingers, cool as a spring morning, over my forehead.

I stare at her with rapidly expanding horror. 

We’re married?

We have kids?

I’m…Billy?

I grasp my pounding head in my hands.

“I’m Billy?”

The woman, Jamie, drops a sharp peck on my cheek. Her innocent smile has a jagged edge. 

“Always the jokester. Come on, honey, you’ve got work in the morning. Pumping the poo outta the outhouses.”

And that’s when I know. The reason I can’t remember who I am is because I don’t want to. An unattractive wife? A station wagon? A horde of snotty-nosed kids? Pumping poop?

Apparently, my life is hell. 

And by the stubborn look on the woman’s face, this nightmare life of mine, it’s not going away.


Did you love excerpt #2 of My Better Life?

Preorder your copy

to find out what happens July 19th, 2022!

Romance writer Sarah Ready writes contemporary romance, romcom, romantic comedy, and chick lit.
Categories
My Better Life

Sneak Peek of My Better Life!

Sneak peek of My Better Life: Book 6 of the Soul Mates in Romeo Romance series by Sarah Ready. Best selling romcom book has a woman and man on a farm featuring farm animals and the man is in a tuxedo.

My newest romcom is coming out July 19th, 2022 and I wanted to share a sneak peek of My Better Life with you.

When East Coast elite and wealthy bachelor Gavin Williams wakes up in a rural West Virginia hospital, he doesn’t remember who he is or where he’s from. His life is full of holes and secrets, desires and dreams, and as Gavin learns more he begins to wonder—will he ever remember? And what happens when he does?

My Better Life is Book 6 in my Soul Mates in Romeo series. 

Check out this sneak peek of My Better Life:


Sneak peek of My Better Life

“Who the devil are you?”

When Gavin was sad and pleading, like Elijah when he begs to go out and play baseball instead of doing his homework, I sorta felt sorry for him. But now, he’s looking at me like I’m a diseased rat that somehow, incomprehensibly ended up in his pristine world, and all my feeling sorry evaporates.

I stiffen, because honestly, I do have some pride.

“You have two seconds to answer me, or I’m calling the police.”

Not for nothing, but “the police” is Daryl Jones, my second cousin. That’s not going to help Gavin. All it’ll do is embarrass me. Daryl will get a good laugh out of this.

Gavin pulls a phone out of his pocket and holds it up threateningly.

“Tell me your name and what you’re doing lurking in my home.”

Slowly, I stand. I don’t want to startle him after all. When I do, he gets a good look at my dirty overalls, my roughed up boots, and my frizzy hair. His eyes widen and his nostrils flare. I get the impression he just got his first whiff of ol’ Billy.

I really should’ve taken a shower.

I would’ve if I’d known this was going to happen.

“My word, she’s a squatter. I’ve got a squatter in my home.” His jaw hardens and he thrusts his hand toward the open door. “Out. Get out.” He motions at me like I’m some mangy stray.

“Hey!” I put my hand on my hips. “I’m not a squatter. I’m Jamie Sutton.”

He stares at me, his expression uncomprehending. “What did you say?”

I blow out a long breath, the hot air stirring the hair sticking out from my braid.

“I said,” I annunciate and talk real slow for him, “I’m not a squatter. I’m Jamie Sutton.”

He shakes his head like he still doesn’t understand and then he takes slow, careful steps toward me, like he expects some loony behavior on my part. When he’s only a few feet away, he wrinkles his nose and looks at me with utter distaste.

“I don’t know what jammy sudden is, but I want you to remove your person from my home.”

Oh lordy. He can’t understand plain English.

“Jamie Sutton,” I say slowly pointing at myself.

He stares at me, uncomprehending. No wonder the fairy princess left him. He’s gorgeous, but his head is full of rocks. And he has a temper. I know it, because he steps forward and grabs my arm, his fingers hot and calloused.

“That’s it. If you won’t get out, I’ll take you out.”

He drags me toward the front door. It’s funny, a second ago, I would’ve loved to go out a door, now I don’t want anywhere near one. I dig in my heels and tug in the opposite direction. But he’s strong. Real strong.

“Hang on!” I shout, starting to put up a fight like ol’ Billy. “What’s wrong with you? You gave me the code to your place. I’m dropping off my work. Hello. I’m Jamie Sutton. The glassblower. Jeez Louise, you’re yanking me like Granny pulling up a radish on a Sunday. Let go!”

He’s having none of it.

“Unbelievable. I can’t understand a word she utters,” Gavin says in a completely dumbfounded voice.

I step on his foot. Hard.

“Let go! Understand that!”

He stops tugging me. We’re a few feet from the door. I’m panting hard, and I bet anything, that my face is redder than molten glass. Worse, even though I’m infuriated, him holding onto me is sending an SOS through my insides. The message travels up my arm, down my chest, and all over my body, telling me that all that heat I’m feeling means it’s time to strip down naked and cool off the old-fashioned way.

For crying out loud.

Gavin leans forward, towering over me, and brings his face close to mine. I can feel the warmth of him and I can smell the cologne he wears. It’s like fresh air, strength and vitality. Or maybe that’s just him.

My breath comes in short, painful pants, and my heart drums in my ears. In all this mess, I’ve nearly forgotten what I’m here for.

My work.

To get paid.

To start a new life where I can stop working three jobs and start giving the kids all the things I’ve always wanted to.

“Why’d you do that?” Gavin asks between clenched teeth. He jerks his head toward his foot. Apparently, it hurt when I slammed my boot down on his toes.

I try to jerk my arm free, but he keeps ahold of me. I glare at him. Now I know exactly how Billy feels when I trap his wings.

“Because. You won’t let go.” I say it real slow so the words can get through his thick skull.

He frowns and then releases my arm. My brain likes that, but my body doesn’t. It wants that SOS, and my skin still tingles where he was touching me.

Gavin clears his throat and rubs at his nose. Yeah, yeah, I smell bad. Deal with it.

It’s time to take charge. I stand as tall as I can, which isn’t much compared to Gavin, who’s more than six foot. I stick out my jaw and try to look as professional as I can, then I hold out my hand.

“Jamie Sutton. You’re Gavin Williams?”

Apparently, this is too much for him to handle. “How do you know my name?”

I roll my eyes. “You hired me.”

“I hard you?”

Oh my word.

This is probably the worst pseudo-conversation I’ve ever had in my life.

“You hired me to create glass art. The wave you commissioned. I dropped it off, like you instructed in your email.” I point to the wave, sitting in its place of honor on the art table.

Gavin looks from me to the wave then back to me again.

I lick my dry lips and wait for him to connect the dots.

Before, I thought this cabin was expansive, but now it feels claustrophobic. Gavin’s standing entirely too close. Studying me too carefully.

A slow, trickling flame licks over me, and I try to turn it off.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want it.” Well, that does it. The flame is off. It’s completely off.


Did you love this sneak peek of My Better Life?

Preorder your copy

to find out what happens July 19th, 2022!

Romance writer Sarah Ready writes contemporary romance, romcom, romantic comedy, and chick lit.
Categories
Once Upon an Island

Sneak Peek #4 : Once Upon an Island

Once upon an island cover is a beachy retelling of Pride and Prejudice coming May 24th. The cover features a hammock tied between two trees with a beautiful ocean behind. This is an amazing new romcom by author Sarah Ready. Check out this sneak peek.

Want sneak peek #4 from my newest book? Once Upon an Island is now available. This stand alone romcom and the perfect summer read. Is there anything sexier than swimming in a secluded tropical bay with a billionaire? How about if the bay glows with bioluminescence and there is a swoon-worthy billionaire?

Fun-loving Isla Waterstone loves her laid-back life on Mariposa Island. She has everything she could ever want…a great job as a journalist for the local paper, amazing friends, and pink sand beaches with stunning tropical sunsets. The only problem with tiny tropical islands? There are more sea turtles than single men. So when British billionaire Declan Fox and his aristocratic friend arrive, Isla’s friends know this can mean only one thing. 

Marriage.

Check out this sneak peek #4 of Once Upon an Island:


Sneak peek #4 of Once Upon an Island

I gasp. Because the water lights up. Literally lights up. Everywhere I touch, neon blue lights spark through the water. Declan is surrounded by ripples and waves of electric blue dancing across his skin and in the water around him.

“It’s the bay,” I say excitedly. Then I realize that doesn’t make sense. “The bay is bioluminescent and these little microorganisms light up and…isn’t it beautiful?”

Declan looks at me, then down at the aura of electric blue surrounding me. I’m treading water again, and it looks like I have trailing blue angel’s wings.

“I never come out here,” I say. “I mean, when I was a kid, my mom brought me. I thought the lights were fairies and that they were going to pull me underwater to live in their kingdom. I used to dream about it.” 

I glance over at Declan to see if he’s laughing at me. He’s not, he’s watching me with that same, neutral, stoic expression. I pull my hand through the water and watch the trail of blue sparks flash and pulse everywhere I touch. I imagine the lights as little fairies flying around my fingers. I look back at Declan. He’s not watching the water, he’s watching me. I lick my lips nervously. They taste of salt and the sea. 

“My dad finally told me they weren’t fairies, they were Pyrodinium Bahamanse, a microorganism. After that, I didn’t ever feel like coming back.”

I stop and look at the blue lights shining around Declan. 

“Why not?”

Now that he asks, I’m not really sure. I swim closer to him.

“I’m not really sure,” I admit. “I used to think it was because the magic was gone once my dad told me the science behind the lights. But now…” I look around at the bioluminescence. “I see that’s wrong. It’s still magical, even though I know there’s a scientific explanation. It’s still magic.” 

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns over and floats on his back, spreading his arms and legs so that he looks like a glowing blue angel floating in the water.

Then, he turns his head toward me and says, “Come on then.”

I let out a surprised huff. “Alright,” I say. “But it’s not because I’m interested. It’s only because it’s magical.” Then I spread my arms and legs out and float on my back.

The moon spills silvery light over us, and from the corner of my eyes I can see the field of blue fairy lights sparking in and out of existence around us. It feels like we’re floating in the middle of the deep, black universe and stars and planets are being born in brilliant blue flashes and then fading quietly away, only to be born again. And again. 

The night is quiet. Neither Declan nor I speak. We just float together in bioluminescence. My arms extend out and I startle when my hand brushes against his.  

He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. 

Instead of pulling away, I leave my hand next to his. It’s sort of lonely in a universe of floating blue lights, and it feels comfortable to have his hand close enough to hold, even if I never actually do reach out and take it. 

He doesn’t pull away either. So we float there, staring up at the crescent moon, a minute, two, five passing by. Touching, but not.


Did you love this sneak peek of Once Upon an Island?

Order your copy

to find out what happens today!

Romance writer Sarah Ready writes contemporary romance, romcom, romantic comedy, and chick lit.
Categories
Once Upon an Island

Sneak Peek #2: Once Upon an Island

Once upon an island cover is a beachy retelling of Pride and Prejudice coming May 24th. The cover features a hammock tied between two trees with a beautiful ocean behind. This is an amazing new romcom by author Sarah Ready. Check out this sneak peek.

Want sneak peek #2 from my newest book coming out May 24th, 2022? Once Upon an Island is a stand alone romcom and the perfect summer read. What do you do when you find yourself on a small plane with an arrogant billionaire and your motion sickness pills kick in?

Fun-loving Isla Waterstone loves her laid-back life on Mariposa Island. She has everything she could ever want…a great job as a journalist for the local paper, amazing friends, and pink sand beaches with stunning tropical sunsets. The only problem with tiny tropical islands? There are more sea turtles than single men. So when British billionaire Declan Fox and his aristocratic friend arrive, Isla’s friends know this can mean only one thing. 

Marriage.

Check out this sneak peek #2 of Once Upon an Island:


Sneak peek #2 of Once Upon an Island

Jimmy starts the propeller and the noise fills the cabin. Percy and Arya lean closer together to continue their conversation. When Jimmy starts moving the plane forward I close my eyes, but unfortunately, my head spins so much that I have to open them again. 

When I do, I notice Declan staring at me. 

“Yes?” I ask. 

He scowls. “You made a noise.”

I probably did. In fact, I imagine it was a noise like “please, oh please, please fly okay.” 

“I’m fine,” I say. 

Declan looks down at my hands and makes a disbelieving noise. I look down too. I’m gripping the seats and my knuckles have turned white. 

The plane bumps down the runway and my stomach flips with each little bump. 

“Are you afraid to fly?” asks Declan. He has a judgy look on his face. “How can you live on an island and be afraid of flying? Don’t you have to fly to go anywhere else in the world?” 

I glare at him. His people skills are terrible. “I’m not afraid of flying.”

He makes another disbelieving noise. 

“I’m not,” I say.

“Just like you don’t eat balls very often,” he says. Then he smirks at me.

I gasp and my back goes poker straight. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure he remembered me, or recognized me from the Valentine’s Day Brunch, but I am now.

“It’s none of your business how often I eat balls,” I hiss at him. Then I flush. “And I’m talking about chocolate, you…you…man.” My insult falls flat. It’s hard to be eloquent when you’re drugged up and terrified of flying.

“I know what you’re up to,” he says, and his lip curls in a villain-ish sort of way.

What’s he talking about?

“You don’t know anything,” I say. Because…comebacks.

He shakes his head and looks at me like I’m the larva of a slug. “I heard your friends talking in the terminal. ‘Land the white whale. Nab a billionaire. Blah blah blah.’ Trust me, La-La. I’ve had enough gold diggers after me to recognize one from a mile away. I’m not interested.”

My mouth drops open and I try to formulate a comeback. Instead, all I manage are little choking noises of outrage. Finally, I say, “I’m not a dold gigger…” I shake my head. That wasn’t right. Darn prescription. “Gold digger,” I correct.

Declan snorts and turns back to his phone, effectively dismissing me.

However, I’m a person, not a dog he can dismiss or beckon at his convenience. So I lean over and forcefully poke his arm with my pointer finger.  

He glances up and gives me an affronted look. “Yes?”

“I’m not a gold digger,” I say again. 

“Methinks thou protesteth too much.”

I shake my fuddled head. “I just want to set the record straight. I wouldn’t chase you, lust after you, date you, or marry you, even if you and I were stranded on a deserted island together, or if you were the last man on earth. Billionaire or bankrupt, I don’t care. Because I don’t like you. Got it? I don’t like you.” 

Declan gives me a tight-lipped smile. “The feeling’s mutual,” he says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important things to do.” 

Implying that I’m not important. 

Well.

“So do I,” I say.

I resist the urge to stick out my tongue. 

What a jerk.

I turn away from him, my head spinning. When I look out the little oval window next to my seat, I see with surprise that we’re high in the sky, soaring over the azure-colored sea. I was so distracted by Declan that I forgot about my terror over take-off, and my fear of flying. 

I look down and make out the white sail of a sailboat, the dark greenish-black smudges of a reef, and a tiny uninhabited island.

I glance over at Declan. It’s amazing. It seems that my complete and utter loathing and fear of flying was finally wiped out. I don’t need anti-anxiety medication, therapy, or any other tricks. I just need to replace it with an even greater loathing – that of Declan Fox. 

I grin gleefully. At that moment he looks up, sees my expression and scowls at me. 

Amazing. Wonderful. 

“It’s not going to work. You’re not pretty enough to tempt me. Nor are you eloquent or smart enough. Or friendly enough for that matter. Even when you smile. You can stop trying,” he says grumpily. 

This makes me smile even more. 

He’s awful, and that’s wonderful. 

“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met,” I say with the biggest grin on my face.

“And you’re the most vulgar, greediest, average-looking gold digger I’ve ever met.”

“Perfect,” I say with a smile.


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Romance writer Sarah Ready writes contemporary romance, romcom, romantic comedy, and chick lit.
Categories
Married by Sunday

Opening scene from romcom Married by Sunday

Check out this opening scene from my latest book! Izzy meets Nathaniel for the first time and he is completely not ready for her. Will Nathaniel fall for her quirky personality or go running for the hills?

Married by Sunday is book 5 in my Soul Mates in Romeo Romance series and it’s a must read! If you love funny romcom’s you have to check out this opening scene from Married by Sunday!

Click here to order Married by Sunday.

sneak peek of Married by Sunday, coming March 22nd by best romcom author Sarah Ready.

“Sir?” the snack cart man says. “Coffee?” 

The man next to me gives the snack cart vendor a distracted look and then a sharp nod. He holds up his finger to indicate he’d like one large coffee.

Well. He’s not very friendly, is he?

But he is getting coffee…

My stomach gives a tight hungry clench. I make my decision, because honestly, hunger is a great motivator. Plus, it’s fate.

“Devon, anything else?” I ask. I’ve decided that the man next to me is named Devon. He looks like a Devon.

Clearly, he doesn’t answer, because he’s on the phone, ignoring everyone but the crazy-in-love lady on the other end.

I turn back to the snack cart man and smile apologetically. “He’s on the phone with his sister, she’s causing him all sorts of trouble. You see, my husband and I are on our honeymoon and all we wanted was a little time to ourselves. But family…” I shrug. “You know how it is.”

“What does he want then?” asks the man impatiently. There are gobs of people waiting for snacks in the rows ahead of us. 

I tilt my head and study the menu pasted to the side of the cart. I lick my lips. “He’ll have that coffee with cream and sugar. A ham and cheese croissant. A chocolate chip muffin. And, hmmm a bag of salt and vinegar chips.”

The snack vendor grunts and starts pulling out the food. I horde it, gathering it on my lap. 

“Anything for you?” 

I nod, my eyes going glassy from the food smells wafting up to me. “I’ll have a blueberry muffin. An apple. Another ham and cheese croissant. And a large coffee, no cream, but lots of sugar.” 

My stomach twists again and I lick my lips. 

I set the food in my lap, and then pull out the tray to put the coffee on. It’s steaming and smells so good that I almost start crying again.

The vendor uses an old blocky calculator to ring up the total. 

“Twenty-six dollars,” he says. 

I look at the vendor, then I look at Devon, then back at the vendor and shrug. 

“Please. You can’t possibly get married Sunday. Fine. Bye. I’ll see you—” Devon sighs and clutches his head for a second then he turns to the vendor. It looks like his phone conversation is done. “How much?” he asks.

“Twenty-six dollars.”

Devon’s eyebrows scrunch down and he scowls at the vendor. “For a large? How much do you charge for a small?” 

The large-nosed vendor rolls his eyes. “The coffees are four dollars. The croissants ten. The muffins eight. The apple-”

“I don’t want all that, I just want coffee.”

“Your wife ordered for you,” the vendor says. 

“What wife? I don’t have a wife.” Devon looks a little confused and a whole lot offended. 

I give the vendor a sweet smile. “It’s a game we play. Being newlyweds. Devon thinks it’s funny.” 

Devon gives me an appalled look, and I think he’s only just realized that I’m in the seat next to him. “Excuse me? We’re not married.”

I look back at the vendor. “See?” I open my eyes wide and flutter my lashes. “Come on Devon, don’t be that way.” 

I didn’t think it was possible, but Devon becomes even more stiff-backed and starched looking.

The vendor sighs, clearly at the end of his patience. “Come on, Devon. Buy your wife the food. Twenty-six bucks.”

“We’re not married,” he says, then something else dawns on him. “And my name’s not Devon!” 

I roll my eyes. I think the vendor’s starting to get angry.

“I don’t care what your name is. I just want you to pay for the food your wife ordered.”

“She’s not—”

An exceptionally tall man a few rows up from us stands up and shouts over the seat, “Hey, funny guy, pay for your wife’s food so we can get our coffee.”

“Exactly! Thank you!” an old battle-ax of a grandma adds. 

Devon’s cheeks turn bright red and I can see the war taking place inside him. Make a scene and fight the injustice of the crazy lady next to him, or pay the bill and avoid the scene. I smile sweetly when he pulls out his leather wallet and stiffly counts out thirty dollars.

“Keep the change,” he says, shoulders stiff.

“Thanks, Devon. Enjoy your honeymoon,” says the vendor. He shoves his cart down the aisle to serve the next row of passengers.

I sit still, relishing the weight of the food in my lap. Yum. Food.

Devon lets out a low growl. He’s mad. Really, really steaming mad. In fact, I can feel the heat rolling off him. His eyes are sort of like those laser beams that sear your skin. 

I hold out one of the warm foil-wrapped croissants. The crinkly noise the foil makes has my heart doing a happy dance.

“It’s ham and cheese. I hope you’re not a vegetarian. Or a vegan, you’re not a vegan, right? No, you wouldn’t be, your shoes are leather.”

I drop the croissant into his hand and say, “Enjoy!”

He gives me an incredulous look. “What’s wrong with you?” 

Lots. Lots and lots. But while I’m with Devon, I’m not going to think about it.

I take a big bite of my croissant. Oh holy heaven, the cheese is all melty and gooey and the croissant is so buttery. A soft little moan escapes. 

His eyes flick to my mouth and I lick a crumb from my lips. So good. It’s so good. Devon seems sort of stunned. 

“Don’t you like ham and cheese? I got you a chocolate chip muffin too, or you can have my apple if you want? But really, you should try this croissant. It’s like heaven in your mouth.” 

He shakes his head and stares at me with morbid fascination. “Are you insane?” 

“Hmm?” I take another bite, yup, still amazingly delicious, and then I swallow some of the steaming coffee. 

“Are you insane? Or a scam artist? What?”

I frown. “Devon, please. I didn’t mean anything by—”

He throws up his hands. “For crying out loud, my name isn’t Devon. It’s Nathaniel. Nathaniel Barry.” 

I smile widely and hold out my free hand for him to shake. “Izzy Harris, I’m so pleased to meet you.”

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Thank you for reading the opening scene from my latest romcom Married by Sunday!

Categories
Josh and Gemma

A Scene from Josh and Gemma Make a Baby

Josh and Gemma Make a Baby book in 3D. This cover features a couple standing in front of a graphic color display. She is pregnant.

My romcom Josh and Gemma Make a Baby is out now and I wanted to share a scene introducing some of my favorite characters from the book with you. This story, set in New York City, follows Gemma Jacobs’ journey to single motherhood and self discovery. Part of her journey brings her together with a group of amazing women in a fertility support group. Check out this scene from the fertility support group’s first encounter:


Meeting the Fertility Support group scene from Josh and Gemma Make a Baby

“You’re here for the fertility support group, right?” she asks.

She pulls a pack of cigarettes out from her suit pocket and

lights one. She takes a long draw and then slowly blows it out.

“Yes?” I say.

She grimaces at me, taking in my bright red winter coat and

my hesitant smile.

“Well, come on then. You first. I’ll shut the door.”

I hesitate, but then I hear female laughter from the

basement. Real, happy, full-belly kind of laughter and I think,

maybe my stupid rambling quote to this woman was right. The

true value is found within, and I won’t find it unless I go in.

So, I walk down the uneven stone steps into the basement

of Clive’s Comics.

The metal door clatters shut behind me. The woman steps

next to me. The entryway is dark, most of the light comes from

the glowing tip of her cigarette.

“It’s down there.” She points to a shaft of light coming out

of a doorway down the hall. “I’m Brook, by the way.”

I smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m Gemma Jacobs.”

“Alright,” Brook says, then she leads me down the dark, old

stone-walled hallway. “Watch out for rats. They bite. And their

piss will give you some freakish disease, so don’t lick the floor.”

I give her a quick look, certain she has to be joking, but she

takes another puff of her cigarette and then steps into the

doorway of the brightly lit room.

I stand behind her. The room is low-ceilinged, painted dark

pink, and there are boxes full of comics shoved against the far

wall. In the middle of the room a group of six folding chairs

have been set up in a circle. Only two of the chairs are

occupied.

There’s a glossy blonde-haired woman with bright blue

eyes who looks elegant and poised, like she could be a model

on the cover of Vogue. She’s talking in a clipped British accent to

another woman who is listening to her and nodding her head

intently.

The second woman has long, brown wavy hair that nearly

reaches her hips and warm light brown eyes. She’s in a shirt

and long skirt that look like they were hand dyed, and hemp

sandals, which wow, must be cold in the winter.

Brook clears her throat loudly and both women turn

to her.

“Hello, darling,” says the blonde woman.

“Brook, will you please put that out? My energy worker said

that all your smoking and negative energy is blocking my chi,”

says the wavy-haired woman.

Brook snorts, but she drops her cigarette to the concrete

floor and steps on it.

“We’ve got another one,” Brook says. She pulls me into the

room. I stumble to a stop in front of her and smile at the two

women.

“Hi,” I say and give a small wave.

Brook steps up next to me. “Her name’s Gemma. She

believes in never judging a book by its cover, has terrible

fashion sense, and is routinely late.”

“What? I am not, I—”

“She wants to have a baby, clearly. And she’s delighted to

make our acquaintance,” finishes Brook.

I give her an incredulous look. Who is this woman?

“Delighted,” says the blonde, she stands up smoothly and

holds out her hand.

“This is Carly,” says Brook. “She’s a former model. Check

out her nudies online.” Brook whistles and Carly gives a smile.

“She married a kazillionaire and never has to work again.

Unfortunately, she’s old, so her eggs suck.”

Carly shrugs and gracefully sits back in her folding chair.

I look at her and wait for her to deny any of Brook’s bio, but

she just says, “That’s all true.”

“I still don’t understand why we can’t meet in your

penthouse instead of this dump,” says Brook.

“Because I like this dump,” says Carly. “The pink reminds

me of a uterus ripe for action.”

“You are one sick Brit,” Brook says.

The brown-haired woman covers a laugh with her hand.

Then she stands and walks up to me. I smell lavender and

maybe sandalwood? “I’m Hannah, it’s wonderful to meet you.”

I hold out my hand, “Gemma. Wonderful to meet you too.”

“Right. Hannah is a crunchy granola type, if you couldn’t

tell. She likes almond butter, weaving her own shoes, and

connecting with the energy of Mother Earth. Nobody knows

why the hell she can’t get pregnant, so she spends gobs of

money on weird crap like fertility crystals and magic fruit pills

from the heart of the Amazon.”

Hannah rolls her eyes and sits back in her chair. “They’re

legitimate supplements, Brook. And I happen to like wearing

rose quartz and moonstone.” Then she looks at the expression

on my face and starts to laugh. “You should sit down,” she says.

I walk to the circle and take a seat next to Hannah in one of

the rusty folding chairs. Brook comes and sits across from me.

“Perfect,” says Carly, I look at her and try not to picture her

naked. Why did Brook have to mention those photos? Brook

grins at me like she knows what I’m trying not to think of.

“Since we’re all here, I’ll call to order the weekly meeting of

the Fertility Support Group,” Carly says. “The first item on the

agenda is welcoming our new member. It’s good to have you,

Gemma.”


Did you love this scene from Josh and Gemma Make a Baby?

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Romance writer Sarah Ready writes contemporary romance, romcom, romantic comedy, and chick lit.
Categories
Married by Sunday

Want more Married by Sunday?

Check out this sneak peek of my latest book! No matter how much Nathaniel protests, Izzy knows it was fate that brought them together. Nathaniel’s girlfriend just ran off to marry another man, and Izzy swears she’ll help Nathaniel win her back…even if it means getting him to laugh.

Married by Sunday is book 5 in my Soul Mates in Romeo Romance series and it’s a must read! If you love funny romcom’s you have to check out this sneak peek of Married by Sunday!

Click here to order Married by Sunday.

sneak peek of Married by Sunday, coming March 22nd by best romcom author Sarah Ready.

“We start now.” I look at Nathaniel and think through the options. Finally I decide on one. “I’m gonna need you to laugh.”

“Excuse me?”

I grin. “I know. It’s probably been years. Has Gertrude ever heard you laugh?”

His eyes go distant like he’s working through the years trying to locate a time when he and Gertrude laughed together. “Sure,” he finally says.

“In bed?” I ask, because that would work the best.

“No.” 

Ugh. “Oh well. So, what you need to do is laugh as if you’re in bed together.”

“Gertrude doesn’t laugh in bed. I don’t laugh in bed. Why would anyone laugh in bed?” He looks at me censoriously. Sort of like a principal might. I try not to smile. 

“Okay. Well, I’ll help you out. I’ll give you an example. Picture this.” I lean against the hay bale. Nathaniel stands stiffly a few feet away. That’s not going work. I stand up and tug on his arm, pulling him to lean beside me. “Relax,” I say. After a second he becomes less stiff. I lean into him. The smell of hay surrounds us. “Picture a field. It’s early fall, the air is cool, but it’s midday so the sun has warmed the grass enough for you to lie down. There are apple trees nearby, the apples are ripe and some of them have fallen, so the air smells crisp and sweet. There are a few farmhouses nearby, but not close enough for anyone to see you.” 

“What does this have to do with laughing?” 

“Shhh.” I shush him. “There are some bees droning overhead and a few birds hopping between the apple trees. It’s the weekend. You have nowhere to go and nothing to do. Except make love. That’s the only thing on your mind. Because your girl is on the soft warm grass beneath you, and her lips taste like Honeycrisp apples and she’s looking at you like she wants to taste you too.” I lean closer to Nathaniel, caught up in the smell of the hay and the memory of a crisp apple. “So you slowly lift up her skirt, play your fingers over her skin, taste the apple on her mouth. And then, she lifts her half-eaten apple up to you, like Eve in the Garden. You look at the apple and then you look at her, there’s a glint in her eye. You lick the apple and then you push inside her, and it feels so good, you feel so happy, that you laugh. You laugh from the joy of it…you…you…” My throat feels tight and painful. I look down and see that my fists are clenched. I slowly, carefully release them.

“I?” Nathaniel says.

I clear my throat and try to push aside the burning, scratchiness that has lodged there.

“You laugh. That’s how you laugh.” Then more angrily, because he still looks like he doesn’t understand, I say, “Just do it.”

He shakes his head at me then stands up straight. I push away from the hay bale too and look around it at Gertrude. “Go ahead.”

Nathaniel takes a deep breath and then laughs. 

Gertrude didn’t hear. Thank goodness. I look back at him. “That was terrible. You sounded like an anemic donkey.”

He holds up his hands, “I can’t laugh on demand.”

I purse my lips. “Try again. This time do it loud enough for her to hear. But picture apples and sex and pleasure.”

He rolls his shoulders, shakes out his arms, and looks, for all intents and purposes, like he’s warming up for a big game. My irritation thaws. Cute. He takes a big breath, then he looks at me. Wow. I take a step back. His eyes are all dark and dripping dream boaty-ness.

“Ready,” he says.

“Oookay.”

He closes his eyes, lifts his head and laughs. It echoes through the lobby. Little electric tingles rush across my arms and chest. It feels like his laugh is petting me. Goodness.

I stare at him in shock. 

Now that’s a sexy laugh.

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Thank you for reading another sneak peek of Married by Sunday!

Categories
Josh and Gemma

Josh and Gemma : The Conference Call

Ever have one of those dreams where you show up at school and you realize you never put on pants? Well this is not a dream for Gemma and it’s a conference call rather than school.

Check out this excerpt from Josh and Gemma Make a Baby below!


“Hello?” I manage to garble into the phone.

“Gemma. For goodness sakes. Where are you?”

It takes a moment for me to place who’s on the other end of the line. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and set them on the cold parquet floor.

“Lavinia? What is it?” I croak. I really, really need a glass of water. My mouth feels like I gnawed on a cotton ball all night long. I stumble across the room toward the kitchen sink. I startle when I see myself in the wall mirror. I’m in old sweatpants and a bra, my hair is sticking straight out from the side of my head and my mascara is running down my cheeks. 

I stop in front of the mirror and give myself a shocked once-over.

“What do you mean ‘what is it’?” asks Lavinia.

I wince at the shrillness of her voice.

“The marketing conference call started five minutes ago. They’re waiting for you. Ian is waiting for you,” she hisses. “Tell me you are outside the building.”

Wait, what? What time is it? I squint at the clock on the wall. It’s five after ten. Which means…

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

I’m late for work. And I’m late on a day where Ian is on a conference call that I’m supposed to be on. I’ve never had a conference call with Ian before. This was my first and biggest opportunity to impress him. I’ve been preparing for it for weeks. I’m supposed to be leading the call, setting out our new initiative for social media marketing.

Noooo.

I hurry across the apartment to my work bag. “I’m calling in,” I say to Lavinia. “I’ll be on in two minutes. I’ll be right there.”

I can almost hear Lavinia “rolling her eyes. But it doesn’t matter. I tear my computer out of my bag, set it on my bed and power it up. I crouch in front of it and urge it to load faster. The conference call link is in my work email. I open my email, find the link and click it.

“I’m on the call. Thanks, Lavinia.” I hang up my cell and squat in front of my laptop while the screen loads.

The call comes through. On the list of participants I can see the head of the consulting marketing firm, a few of his marketing minions, Lavinia, and Ian.

“Ah, here she is. What did I tell you? Good things come to those who wait.” That’s Ian, I can tell by his deep, buttery voice, and by the inspirational quote, of course.

“Sorry for the wait,” I begin to apologize. But then I stop. Because instead of being a phone call like I thought, it’s a video call.

The black screen with a list of names shifts to show the participants, all in little squares showing their faces. They’re in business suits and dresses. You know—business attire. The neon green camera light on my laptop flashes. And then the screen on my laptop fills with a picture of me.

Well, not of me exactly.

Since, I’m crouched over my computer, which is propped on my bed, the camera actually shows a grainy image of my breasts.

I take half a second to see the entire horror show unfold in front of me.

My breasts, my bra with the word “juicy” written all over it, the bit of roll around my middle, it’s all there, front and center.

My boobs are taking up the entirety of my computer screen.

I do the only thing that any reasonable person would do. I drop to the ground.

Best romcom Josh and Gemma Make a Baby by Sarah Ready. Cover is a man and a woman standing with vibrant colors.

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