I published a book a few years back that is sort of a loner. It’s my only full-length sweet romance, the only historical set in America, the only book not part of a series. My ignored orphan is called Sass Meets Class, and inattentive as I’ve been to it, I still think it a lovely story about a sassy American girl and a very class British nobleman in 1880s Arizona. As unlikely a pair as you’ll ever meet, she grounds his loftiness and he opens up a world of possibilities for her, with both of them surrounded by a humorous cast.
This excerpt shows Susan’s spunk as she argues with Alexander late one night in her backyard about his plans when he returns to England.
“So you’re The Viscount of Nowhere.”
“Temporarily. When I marry well, I will repay my brother-in-law and return to my position.”
“Oh yes, the English girl again.” Susan sashayed to the well, holding her skirts wide as she lighted primly on the opposite side, trying to act as the proper English girl would though she had no real idea how that would be. “She must have money, tolerance for your mother, and must stay indoors after dark.”
“You possess the tongue of an asp.”
Susan shrugged. “If this woman holds the key to your life, why aren’t you in England finding her?”
“You do not comprehend the first thing about my life.”
“Maybe not, but I know I didn’t see one rich Englishwoman between Baltimore and here. It occurs to me you don’t really want one.”
“Ridiculous.” He shoved away from the well. Susan followed him as he hastened toward the house.
“Wait. I’m about to explain your life. If you don’t want the wife, then you don’t really want Furnivall, do you? Like I said, you are not sure who you are!”
He paused on the porch, turning to her slowly, his piercing eyes shooting daggers. “Your powers of inaccurate deduction astound me.”
“You strung together a lot of big words but I think you said I’m wrong. How?” She hopped on the porch to stand right in front of him, close enough to count the individual whiskers on his shadowy chin.
A ragged sigh tore through him. He lifted a lock of her hair, rubbing the strands between his thumb and finger as if testing the value. Susan’s breath locked in her throat. “It is all wrong, Susan.”
His scent wafted around her, spicy and unique. She stared into his eyes and saw trouble. Confusion, anger, and something else – something more base – blended into a turbulence of blue. “I’m not wrong, Alex.”
“Are you not, with your bare feet?”
“Yours are too,” she said defensively.
END OF EXCERPT
Conversation gets pricklier than a cactus and desert temperatures are bound to rise when American common sense meets British nobility in Arizona Territory. To learn more about the story, visit the Sass Meets Class page, or you can find it at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iTunes, Kobo, and Smashwords.
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