Categories
Josh and Gemma 2

Pre-Order Now!

Pre-Order Josh and Gemma the Second Time Around now!

Coming January 2023.

Pre-order now: Cover of Josh and Gemma the Second Time Around features two people, Josh Lewenthal and Gemma Jacobs walking away from the view. They are reaching to each other but their hands don't quite touch. The colors are vibrant. This is the much awaited sequel to the best selling romance book Josh and Gemma Make a Baby by romance author Sarah Ready.

Do you want to know what happens next with Josh and Gemma? What do they name the baby? What about the wedding? So many questions that will all be answered on January 26, 2023.

You can pre-order now at:

www.books2read.com/joshandgemmathesecondtimearound

so you can jump right in when it’s released!


Here’s the blurb! 

Gemma Jacobs has life figured out. She’s upbeat, positive to a fault, and the master of her own destiny. She has a wonderful career in social media marketing, lives in a trendy apartment with her fiancé Josh Lewenthal, and is pregnant with their much-loved baby.

Her life is wonderful. Absolutely perfect.

Except…

What really comes after the happily ever after?

Josh Lewenthal is laid-back, fun-loving, and always finds the humor in life. He writes a wildly successful web comic series, and can’t wait to marry Gemma—the woman of his dreams.

His life is amazing. Terrific.

Except…

What happens when everything changes?

Suddenly Josh and Gemma’s lives are turned upside down, and their love and their future together are at risk. They realize their happily ever after isn’t the end, it’s just the beginning—and now they have to fight for it.

They confront a devastating separation, the return of world-infamous Ian Fortune, and the question of whether or not their love can truly survive when everyone says…it’s already gone.

Romance Writer Sarah Ready. Contemporary romance, chick lit, romantic comedy, romcom books
Categories
Scrooging Christmas

Sneak Peek of Scrooging Christmas

Sneak peek of Scrooging Christmas, the best new RomCom coming October 18th. Best selling romance author Sarah Ready. Features a couple on a snowy landscape.

My newest Christmas romcom is coming out October 18th, 2022 and I wanted to share a sneak peek of Scrooging Christmas with you.

What would you do with a Scrooge? When Christmas-loving Natalie Fiorre goes head-to-head with perpetual Scrooge Gabe Cavanaugh all bets are off. Opposites clash over holiday cheer in this cheeky, Christmas romcom full of laughter and steam – the perfect holiday romance read.

Check out this sneak peek of Scrooging Christmas:


Sneak peek of Scrooging Christmas

December 21, 11:12 p.m.

The Christmas carols are horridly, ear-numbingly loud. The sleigh bells, the trilling trumpet, and the joyful voices boomerang inside my skull and jolt me out of unconsciousness. 

I lie still, my cheek scratching against cheap, prickly carpet, the scent of pine and gasoline sharp in my nose as I struggle to brush aside the veil of confusion. 

Darkness coats my vision, thick, and absolute. There’s the taste of fresh falling snow in the air, mixed with the copper tang of blood on my dry lips. 

So, there’s snowfall. 

Pine trees.

The icy darkness of the cramped trunk.

My knees are tucked against my chest. Hot needles prick at my calves just above my tied ankles. My wrists are bound behind my back. 

I wriggle my numb fingers, rotate my hands. It’s not rope, handcuffs, or zip ties that hold me, it’s…Christmas lights? 

I’m tied up with the green cordage of a hundred Christmas bulbs? 

The plastic cord digs into my wrists and ankles, cutting off circulation as I struggle. The trunk is coffin-like, too tight to maneuver. 

You’d think, if you were bent on stuffing a six-foot-two man inside a trunk, you’d find a car bigger than a roller skate. But I’m trussed up like a Christmas goose, stuck in an oven. Except this oven is a trunk and achingly cold. The sharp icicle teeth of December bite at my nose and cheeks.

The crunch of ice-filled potholes and snow grinding under the car tires is muted beneath the chirpy high-pitched chorus of Christmas cheer. The carols assault my ears, but I listen for the sounds beyond the singing. 

The night is curiously quiet, there’s only the music, the grumble of the engine, the tires crunching over ice-coated snow, and the claustrophobic noise of my own breathing. 

I’m not in Manhattan then. Not anywhere near my apartment. 

The car jostles around a curve and I roll and slide into the trunk wall, crushing my face against the unyielding metal surface. 

A package bumps into my back, brushing against my hands. Wrapping paper, a frilly bow, I run my fingers over the slick paper surface. 

I’m in the trunk with a present. 

My stomach rolls as we round another curve, bumping over a small hill. I’m on a country road, far, far from home, that much is clear. 

I jerk about and try to dislodge my cell from my suit pocket. Thirty seconds in I realize my phone isn’t in my pocket. I can’t feel the thick bulge of my wallet either.   

I draw in a deep breath of stagnant air and tell myself to think…think…think.  

They have to be after money. A million? Two? More?

I grit my teeth, the bitter smell of Christmas pine and snow lingering in my nose.

I don’t remember anything after hailing the taxi. Is that it then? Did the taxi driver render me unconscious and shove me into their trunk? 

I try to recall their appearance, to picture who is currently at the wheel, driving us farther and farther away from New York. But I can’t. When I rifle through my memories, looking for their face, I only see a blank empty space. 

I kick at the area where the tail light is. Maybe if I knock it out I can signal another car. But the only thing that comes of my efforts is an aching ankle.

I hate Christmas. 

I really, really hate Christmas. 

And wouldn’t it be just the figgy pudding to top it all if I died out in the snowy, pine tree wilds, in the car of some Christmas carol loving maniac?  

A curious calm settles over me, the pine needle smell tickling my nose, my heartbeat slowing to the lull of “Silent Night.” 

The car slows, crawling along at five miles an hour, winding down, I assume, a long country drive, deep in some craggy, forgotten woods. 

This is it then. 

My skin prickles from the icy cold, my blood pumps loud like a drum in my ears, the tang of gasoline and blood coats my mouth. 

The car stops. 

“Silent Night” cuts out mid note. 

I hold still, barely allowing myself to breathe, listening. My muscles tense and a surge of adrenaline crashes through me. 

The night is silent. It’s the silence that comes after a deep, wistful snowfall blankets the earth. For now, everyone and everything is quiet. 

Then the front car door opens with a loud, pained creak, its hinges rusted and misused. 

I lift my head, the carpet roughing my cheek as I turn toward the noise of snow crunching under boots. The car door slams like a gunshot and I stiffen. 

This is it. 

When they open the trunk, I’ll catapult at them, knock them aside, wrestle them to the ground, try…well, I’ll do whatever I can to overpower them. 

I’m not easy prey. I’m not going down without a fight. No matter that I’m tied hand and foot. I won’t make this easy for them. No matter what, I’ll fight. I promise that. 

Another footstep through the snow. I grip my right hand into a fist and strain at the ties. Another footstep. 

Who are they? What do they want? 

Another footstep, closer, the snow loud beneath their boots. 

Why did it have to be Christmas? 

I bite my tongue and shove down the unwelcome vision of a crooked Christmas tree decorated with a red and green paper chain, the scent of popcorn strung on thread, gingerbread baking in the oven, and the sound of laughter and “Deck the Halls” banged out on an out of tune piano. 

They take three shuffling steps closer and pause at the trunk. And I realize the gingerbread smell isn’t a ghost from my memory, it’s them. 

I can smell them through the trunk, the gingerbread flavor lingers mockingly on my tongue. 

A cold chill grips me and I prepare to lunge. Escape. 

They stand there for five seconds. 

Ten. 

Twenty. 

I can hear them breathing—loud, nervous pants. 

Thirty. 

They scuff their boots in the snow. 

Suddenly, the trunk lid flies open. 

The swirling cold wind bites me. 

I don’t wait to orient myself. I jerk upright, lunge forward. 

But instead of making a heroic leap, I hit the edge of the trunk and hurtle into the hard snow and ice drive. 

The air knocks from my lungs and I gasp, struggling to draw in the freezing, dry air. 

The night is deep, deep dark. Lit only by stars and a sliver of cold moonlight. 

The silent air presses at me, as if it’s that terrifying eternal moment, between the exhale and the inhale. 

Finally, I drag in a shuddering breath. My lungs fill with the flavor of bitter cold snow, cedar and pine, and yes, gingerbread, coated in sugary icing.

I struggle upright, digging my hands into the icy, hard-packed snow, and kick my tied ankles so that I move away from my abductor. 

The snow bites my hands and the slick ice hisses as I scramble back. I fall over a snow bank and land in a ditch. 

The soft snow exhales as I sink into the freshly fallen fluff, half-buried with a quiet whoosh. The snow has a peculiar way of dampening every noise. 

I growl and bare my teeth as I turn to confront whoever was foolish enough to take me from Manhattan, shove me in a trunk, and bring me here. Wherever I am. 

This is it.    

Then, in the silver moonlight—tiny needle points of falling snow sparkling like crystals in the dark—I see her.

It’s lucky I’m already on the ground because seeing her hits me like the winds of a Nor’easter, ripping roofs off in a gale of destruction. 

She’s backlit by the moon and lit by the obnoxiously flashing red and green Christmas bulb earrings and necklace she’s wearing. 

There’s a reason she smells like gingerbread and Christmas spice. She’s Miss Christmas personified. 

I curl my lip and blast her with an icy, contemptuous stare. 

She’s in a red velvet dress that strokes her curves, a handmade snowflake scarf, and black winter boots topped with soft white fur. 

There’s a halo of snow around her head, and she looks like a Christmas angel, or devil, more like. 

Her bright red lips probably taste like candy canes stirred in hot chocolate, but I swear I’ll never know whether they do or not. Because this woman is trouble. She’s worse than trouble.

Her lips turn up, she smiles at me and waves, like she’s Mrs. Claus at the Thanksgiving Day parade.

Her dark, wildly curly hair, her freckles, her button nose, they all shout innocence. But there’s nothing innocent about her. 

“You,” I growl, lacing that one word with everything I hate about Christmas, about Christmas spirit, and about this woman who thinks she can tie me up and cart me off to who knows where. “You are going to rot in prison for a very, very, very long time.” 

She laughs. It’s low, throaty, and warm like a mulled cider in front of a toasty fire. 

Her laugh strokes me and hits me down low, where even sitting in a freezing snow bank and loathing her with everything I am, I can’t stop my body from reacting. 

Her smile spreads into a wide kid-on-Christmas-morning kind of grin and her eyes light up like the Christmas bulb earrings flashing at her ears. 

Her nose crinkles with her smile and she walks over to the snow bank, her boots scraping over the snow. She puts her hands on her hips, and leans over me. Her warm breath puffs out in a whispery cloud curling between us.

Her candy cane-red lips purse together and then she winks. “Ho, ho, ho, Scrooge. And a Merry Christmas to you too.”


Did you love this sneak peek of Scrooging Christmas?

Preorder your copy

to find out what happens October 18th, 2022!

Romance writer Sarah Ready writes contemporary romance, romcom, romantic comedy, and chick lit.
Categories
Josh and Gemma 2

Cover reveal!

Check out the cover reveal for Josh and Gemma the Second Time Around is coming January 2023.

Cover of Josh and Gemma the Second Time Around features two people, Josh Lewenthal and Gemma Jacobs walking away from the view. They are reaching to each other but their hands don't quite touch. The colors are vibrant. This is the much awaited sequel to the best selling romance book Josh and Gemma Make a Baby by romance author Sarah Ready.

It’s cover reveal day for Josh and Gemma the Second Time Around!

❤️❤️❤️ This cover design is by Elizabeth Turner Stokes who always creates the most beautiful book art and makes the stories come alive. 🥰 

This book has my heart and I hope it captures yours as well. 

It’s coming January 26, 2023. You can find it at www.books2read.com/joshandgemmathesecondtimearound


Here’s the blurb! 

Gemma Jacobs has life figured out. She’s upbeat, positive to a fault, and the master of her own destiny. She has a wonderful career in social media marketing, lives in a trendy apartment with her fiancé Josh Lewenthal, and is pregnant with their much-loved baby.

Her life is wonderful. Absolutely perfect.

Except…

What really comes after the happily ever after?

Josh Lewenthal is laid-back, fun-loving, and always finds the humor in life. He writes a wildly successful web comic series, and can’t wait to marry Gemma—the woman of his dreams.

His life is amazing. Terrific.

Except…

What happens when everything changes?

Suddenly Josh and Gemma’s lives are turned upside down, and their love and their future together are at risk. They realize their happily ever after isn’t the end, it’s just the beginning—and now they have to fight for it.

They confront a devastating separation, the return of world-infamous Ian Fortune, and the question of whether or not their love can truly survive when everyone says…it’s already gone.

Romance Writer Sarah Ready. Contemporary romance, chick lit, romantic comedy, romcom books
Categories
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.


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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 #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.


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

Preorder your copy

to find out what happens May 24th, 2022!

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

Summer Romcom Book Cover Reveal!

Want my latest summer romcom book? Check out another amazing cover by the talented Elizabeth Turner Stokes! My latest summer romcom book, Once Upon an Island, is coming May 24, 2022.

Summer romcom Once Upon an Island by Sarah Ready. Cover features hammock between two palm trees with a ocean in the distance and tropical flowers in the foreground.
This amazing cover is by Elizabeth Turner Stokes.

Once Upon an Island is a beachy take on a classic romance.

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.

After all, it’s a truth universally acknowledged, when a single billionaire travels to a tropical island, he must be in want of a wife.

But Isla isn’t convinced. Especially because Declan is the most rude, arrogant, prideful man she’s ever met.

Or is he?

From tropical Mariposa to England and back again, this playful summer romcom, finds that first impressions don’t always tell the whole story.

My latest summer romcom book, Once Upon an Island, is available May 24, 2022.

Pre-order

Once Upon an Island

Now!

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!