WELCOME TO THE BLOG SARA!!!
Sara grew up in a small town in Iowa, and her obsession with fashion, shoes, and all things British is clearly a rebellion against her hopelessly uncool youth. She graduated from Stanford University in 2003 with a degree in Symbolic Systems (also known as cognitive science) and a minor in history. After graduation, she worked at Google for seven years in a variety of sales, management, and communications roles. She left Google in 2010 to pursue her writing career full time. Sara is currently living the hip Regency writer life in San Francisco, California.
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While I’d like to pretend that I’ll be a cool, calm author, I’m sure I will squeal over the likes of Julia Quinn and Teresa Medeiros. I’m also sure I will be utterly humbled by the breadth and depth of what all you readers have been reading – with my writing schedule, I’m woefully behind on my TBR pile. So, I’m excited to hear what people are reading, get all the latest gossip about hot new releases, and (lest we forget, although I doubt there’s any danger of that) cover my eyes in feigned ladylike shock at the Chocolate Mangasm event. I am a Regency writer, after all – and nothing says Regency like acting shocked in public and then behaving like an utter wanton in private.
Beyond the events, I intend to have as much fun as possible rocking my alter ego, Cerise d’Amour. As Cerise, I filmed a “Sh*t Romance Writers Say” video, and I have another one coming any day. I will be video blogging from RomCon and interviewing authors and readers, which promises to be a blast.
Read on for an excerpt from my second book, Scotsmen Prefer Blondes, which just came out in April!
Amelia stopped beside him, still silent. He looked down and saw her heeled slippers dangling from her fingers. “Did you think to sneak up on me?”
His voice was quiet, her answering laughter quieter still — but the thread of excitement woven through their voices was as clear as a battle cry shouted from a mountaintop. “The heels click too loudly on the wood floors in the passageway. You
really must add more carpets, my lord. You can never host discreet house parties otherwise.”
“I’ve never had cause to.”
“Neither have I. You shall, though, when you enter the Lords. The ladies will swoon over you, and you’ll be thankful for the carpets then.”
He swung around to face her, leaving his ancestor as a silent observer to their game. “And will you swoon over me, Lady Amelia?”
She met his gaze. “You know I cannot, my lord.”
His traitorous hand caressed her cheek, already disregarding Ferguson’s warning and his own resolve. She wasn’t a harpy. She was a goddess come down from Olympus just for him.
She pulled away. He followed, catching her wrist. “Cannot? Or will not?”
Her slippers dropped to the floor. “Both. We aren’t meant for each other, Malcolm. You will marry Prudence, as you should. And I will retire to the country, as I should.”
Her voice fought him, but she didn’t struggle against his grip. “I won’t marry Prudence. She wouldn’t have me even if I wanted her.”
Amelia glanced at the door. “She would…”
“She wouldn’t,” he said, cutting her off. “She might marry me to escape her mother, but that’s not enough for what I require.”
He raised her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles that said nothing of letting go and everything of possession. “I require wit, and charm, and a clever tongue. Not knowledge of Greek and a passion for marble.”
Her fingers tightened in his grasp. “You need obedience, too, unless I misremember.
Prudence is infinitely better at that than I am.”
“But is Prudence better at kissing than you are?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she said. She looked down, wiggling the toes that peeked out from under her gown. Her toes sent a bolt of lust to his groin.
Then she looked up. “Marry her, Malcolm, like you’re supposed to. And stop thinking of me.”
He couldn’t stop thinking of her. The part of him that was rock hard against his breeches knew what he wanted, even though his brain denied it.
He stepped closer, until he was inches from her, and his hand shot out to stop her when she tried to move away. “Yes, I invited her here with an eye toward marriage. But it’s you I want, Amelia — and for your own sake, not because of the moonlight or the whisky or the dozen other excuses we made to ourselves this morning. Prudence could walk through that door with a hundred of the finest London whores and none of them could entice me more than you.”
Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
Her voice was damnably cool, but she didn’t make even the slightest attempt to pull away. He tilted up her chin. Her eyes were saying goodbye — but her lips were parted in what could only be a welcome.
“It is not a compliment. It’s the truth,” he said. “And if you haven’t recognized that truth yet…”
He pulled her against him. She was stubborn enough to die before she admitted it, but he saw the stark longing behind her protective façade. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened.
He didn’t wait for her protest.
Excerpt from Scotsmen Prefer Blondes ©2012 by Sara Ramsey. All rights reserved.
SCOTSMEN PREFER BLONDES:
She never wanted marriage...Get Your Own Copy: Amazon(pb) | Kindle | Nook | Kobo
When a friend is forced to consider a marriage of convenience, Lady Amelia Staunton is determined to rescue her. But her plans trap her in an illicit seduction, and Amelia must marry him herself. Malcolm's all-consuming kisses and devilish humor might make up for her lost freedom, but she believes he will force her to abandon the Gothic romances she yearns to write. Since she can't escape him, she must distract him from her secret...
He isn't looking for love...
A powerful autocrat with a well-hidden rebellious streak, Malcolm MacCabe doesn't need another beautiful mistress - he needs an obedient wife. Obedience is not one of Amelia's virtues. But he's too enthralled by her wit and passion to let her go - even if it means risking the political reputation he is building to save his clan.
Book Extras: Read first 2 Chapters
Other Books in Series:
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