Sandra Sookoo

SAN d RA S oo K oo

Sandra Sookoo is a USA Today bestselling author who firmly believes every person deserves acceptance and a happy ending. Most days you can find her creating scandal and mischief in the Regency-era, serendipity and happenstance in Victorian America or snarky, sweet humor in the contemporary world. Most recently she’s moved into infusing her books with mystery and intrigue. Reading is a lot like eating fine chocolates—you can’t just have one. Good thing books don’t have calories!

ing in central Indiana where she’s been known to goof off and make moments count because the key to life is laughter. A Disney fan since the age of ten, when her soul gets bogged down and her imagination flags, a trip to Walt Disney World is in order. Nothing fuels her dreams more than the land of eternal happy endings, hope and love stories.

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Uncaged welcomes Sandra Sookoo

Welcome to Uncaged! On June 3rd, your book The Soul of a Storme will release and it’s the first in a series. Can you tell readers more about this book and what will connect this series together?

Thanks for having me here! I’m so excited for the launch of this brand new Storme Brothers series. It all kicks off with The Soul of a Storme, which is book one. The series revolves around two sets of siblings (cousins) and the first three are brothers. The war again Napoleon tore them all apart from each other, as did family relationships, but now that the fathers have died and the war is over, they brothers (and cousins) will need to learn how to relate to each other all over again, and deal with the lasting scars (emotional and physical) they’ve all endured. They’ll also realize that most of what they learned as they grew up is not necessarily what they need now in life. Each one of these boys was my favorite while writing, so I hope you’ll adore them too.

You also have a series called the Colors of Scandal, can you tell readers more about those books?

premade cover… and then another cover… and then another cover. By the time I collected some, I decided since they were so pretty they needed a series to go with them, so Colors of Scandal was born. All the books in this series tackle some sort of social issue or injustice during the Regency period and they also feature strong female leads. The one thing that ties the books together (in addition to the brightly colored gowns) is that these ladies land into some sort of scandal on their way to finding their happily ever afters. I’m so looking forward to seeing the remainder of 2021’s books in the wild. And I have so much coming out in this series for 2022 too! :) I hope you’ll love them as much as I do.

What are you working on now that you can tell us about?

At the moment, I’ve just come back from vacation (two years over do to rest my brain) So this week I’ll start two Christmas novellas (incidentally, I’ll have tons of Christmas romances for you this year) one is part of my upcoming Home for the Holiday series and one will be part of a Dragonblade anthology. Then I’ll start a standalone romance called An Accidental Countess. I’m always busy!

What is the most difficult scene for you to write? What is the easiest?

The most difficult scenes (or chapters) for me to write are what I call transitional chapters/scenes. These are scenes that move the characters/plot from one point to another but would cheat the reader if I just put “five days later” or some such thing. In my 13-year career, I’ve never come to learn to love them LOL What are the easiest scenes? If you can believe it, action/fight scenes. They flow so beautifully for me.

What are you looking forward to doing when the pandemic is over that you haven’t been able to do?

Well, I’m making some headway into that right now by going on vacation and boarding an airplane LOL And trust me, that bumped up against several of my

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anxieties. I’m still not comfortable being out and about among unmasked crowds, so it’ll take me some time to ease back into society. In July, I’ll do a book signing in Louisville, which will be fun, and to see people in person. Also, dining back inside restaurants. But since the weather is so nice, there’s no need right now.

Which comes first, the plot or the characters in the planning stages?

That largely depends on whether I want the book to be plot-driven or character-driven. Since I do detailed outlines on ALL of my books, everything comes together for me at the same time. I never worry about that.

What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

I love to bake and make floral decorations for the house. When I can fit it in, I often read, but try not to read in the genre I write in. Also, my husband and I like to go into Indianapolis and tour museums, the zoo, the botanical gardens, and walk garden acreage where available.

If you could have one all-year season, which would it be and why?

Hands down, fall. I love the colors, the crispness to the air, all the fun activities offered during that time of year, the sweaters and boots. And best of all, it’s not hot and humid.

How many hours a day do you write? On average, how long does it take to write a full novel?

Since I’m a full-time author, I write from 8:30 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. Monday through Friday. Recently, I’ve been writing 50-80K books in a month or less. Again, that’s the power of an outline :) Writing fast doesn’t always mean an author is writing crappy content. It means we know exactly what we’re doing because we’ve attained that level of skill.

Hands down, ebooks. I just don’t have the space in my house to keep physical books, and they collect dust besides. I only keep very special paperbacks from authors I adore. What I’m reading now? I’m re-reading all the Anne of Green Gables books (like I do every spring) since I was 12.

What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

I hope you’ll check out my books. I’ve published over 106 books over the years (some are no longer for sale) so there’s something for everyone. I don’t write cookie-cutter books, which my readers and reviewers and editors appreciate, so get out there and browse the virtual shelves!

Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from

The Soul of a Storme

The Soul of a Storme Sandra Sookoo Victorian Historical

Andrew Charles Storme— ninth Earl of Hadleigh— has been in a monstrous temper for the better part of two years. Unable to join the fight against Napoleon due to the declining health and subsequent death of his father, his rotten mood worsened when his two brothers survived the war with lifechanging injuries. Ashamed, Drew retreats to his country estate in Derbyshire to spare them his ire. Why the devil was he not worth more than his title?

Miss Sarah Copeland is a poor relation. In exchange for room and board, she’s become the

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governess to her great-uncle’s two rambunctious offspring. It was better than being tossed in the street, but only just. Freedom and imagination are found in playing a flute, especially since dreams of her future died long ago. When she meets her handsome, growling neighbor, she believes she’s finally found her purpose. After all, didn’t music soothe the savage beast?

While Drew battles with his guilt and anxiety, he finds safety and solace in Sarah’s company. As they enter into a surprising marriage of convenience, the earl’s temper slowly begins to improve, as does her outlook. But while an unexpected romance blooms over the summer weeks, responsibility to the title rears its ugly head, and his temper flares anew, threatening to tear apart everything they’ve built. Only patience, trust, and love will see them through to a happy ending.

Excerpt

“Fine.” Never had he been in the acquaintance of anyone as pushy or determined as Miss Sarah Copeland. Drew took up his pen, slashed through a line of writing, and then modified it with a heavy scribble. This new concession irritated the hell out of him, for he enjoyed the Brighton property; why should he agree to give it up? Damnation, that’s where he should have gone when he’d run from London. But had he done that, he would never have met her… “I have many memories of being in Brighton with my father—before he became too ill to travel,” he said as he finished altering the document. “Perhaps it’s time to create new ones—with you as the earl.” Her dulcet tones shivered over his skin, tugged at a piece of his soul he wasn’t ready to give up. So, he grunted. “Do you remember your parents fondly?” She was intriguing, and he needed more from her than she’d told him. “Yes.” The word was said so softly he had to lean closer to hear. Sarah wrapped a hand around the ever-present silver locket. “However, that is a conversation for another time.” She kept her focus on the second sheet of the contract. Another stab of hot anger streaked through him. He’d made an overture and she’d rejected it. Damn it, if she wished to close herself off, so be it. Nothing of a personal nature would be shared. “Shall we proceed to the next item? If we part while still wed, all jewels belonging to the Hadleigh estate will return to the estate.” “I object.” She raised her head and stared at him over the tops of her spectacles. “If you give me jewelry, I assume they’re gifts. Therefore, I shall keep them.” What gammon was this? Drew gritted his teeth. “They would have been on loan. Why should I reward a woman with jewelry if she intends to leave me?” Sarah popped a hand onto her hip. Annoyance flashed in her eyes, turning them from plain brown to a whisky hue with golden flecks. “Ah, so anything you give to me is merely a bribe to make me stay, to pretend to fall in love with you? For what purpose? To show the ton you’ve achieved the perfect life?” To the devil with her, the annoying little baggage. To alleviate his building rage and the anxiety twisting through his insides, turning her every word into something skewed, Drew picked up an empty brandy snifter from the sideboard and then hurled it against the fireplace. The satisfying tinkle of broken glass echoed in the silence. “Fine. You may have the jewelry, but I ask that you don’t sell the pieces unless you’re desperate.” With savage strokes that tore slits in the paper, he modified the document. “How lovely. You’ve devolved into acts of tantrums such as my ten-year-old charge might.” She shoved her spectacles back into place. “It is not acceptable from him, and neither is it from you.” While he gawked, she took the pen from him and proceeded to add notes to the document. “The next item deals with children. Which follows nicely into what I just said. I won’t tolerate your temper, and if we do have offspring as a result of this union, if we end up going our separate ways inside the marriage, the children will go with me. There is no reason for them to witness their father conducting his life as a beast.” “Absolutely not!” His roar of objection echoed

through the room. Drew rounded on her, turned her to face him as rage boiled in his blood. “I’ll not have you poison my children against me.” “Listen to yourself.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “I have more class and dignity than that.” As he tugged on his suddenly too-tight collar, the intelligent minx searched his face with her gaze, looking for God only knew what. Did he pass muster even when in the grip of anger? His hands shook from the need to belong. “I would prefer the children to know a loving parent over the company of a bevy of servants. No doubt you will be busy enough.” Something inside him snapped. It could have been logic, but the dam that held back the bulk of his rage was no longer there. “How dare you tell me how to run my life. I need air.” Shoving a hand through his hair, he left the study before he said—or did—something he would regret later. He’d barely cleared the room when he was obliged to gasp for breath, his chest tight and squeezing. Black spots flirted with the edges of his vision and he sagged, his back against the wall. When would the terrible pressure and impossible burden of who he was lessen? He rubbed the heels of his hands on his closed eyes. With every new day, he found another reason to antagonize her, and anxiety was always a step behind him, taunting him, pointing out all the ways he’d failed—himself and his title. Why can I not do better? And more appalling yet, if he couldn’t look after himself, what the devil would he do with Sarah? She didn’t deserve the life she would consign herself to, for he wasn’t fit company for anyone. Yet, he needed her. In her, he felt that she’d take him in hand and perhaps pull him from the sucking darkness if only to tell him how wrong he was. Would she remain with him once she knew how mucked up he was as a person, how close to breaking he truly was? Had she only agreed to wed him on an assumption that he would be the strong one? Oh, God, I’m going to fail her. He shook his head. No. Whatever it took, she would be the one person that he’d impress. Somehow, some way, he would do right by her. He had to, for he suspected that he didn’t deserve her at all, but he wanted to. It took several minutes of deep breaths for his pulse to stop ratcheting and for his temper to fade to a more manageable level. Then, after straightening his spine, Drew returned to his study. “I apologize for my absence. There are times when I must step away to avoid—” “I know,” she said in a soft voice. “I’ve seen your battles and witnessed those attacks you have.” When she touched his sleeve, her hand trembled. “Please know I never wanted to add to your concerns.” It was as if she’d punched a hole in his chest that allowed some of the hot ire out. The sudden surcease of the turbulence staggered him. “Once we wed, you will become a responsibility. That is inevitable.” “Perhaps, but I’m quite capable. If you cannot seem to interact with me unless you’re yelling or storming off, then we shall live separately. All the benefits of the marriage will apply, except for the begetting of an heir. Obviously, the logistics of that won’t work.” Was she so anxious to use him for the title that she’d let him go without another thought? The metaphorical hole in his chest closed, and anxiety came swooping back in like a darkened beast. “I am the earl, Miss Copeland, and as such if I tell you to do something, it will happen. There will be no separation until you have borne a son.” Even to his own ears, he sounded like the biggest blowhard alive. But how to change that without giving into anger? Sarah glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “You can’t force respect or compliance, my lord.” She held up the third page of the contract where she’d written in a paragraph. “In the matter of a divorce—” “That will not happen.” Dear Lord, she was thinking of leaving him! Drew crossed his arms at chest level and glared. “Perhaps not, but the clause needs to be added all the same, for if you can’t stand to be in the same room with me for the length of time it takes to discuss a contract, it doesn’t give much hope for a lifetime, does it?” Notes of disappointment and

resignation threaded through the statement. “It’s not you—” “Hush, my lord. This is simpler.” She went on as if he’d never spoken. “If you take a mistress, I refuse to look the other way. You are marrying me—no matter the circumstances at the present—and you will honor those vows until you have an heir.” “Now see here—” “But if you don’t, a divorce will be procured at your expense without fully besmirching my reputation, though the both of us won’t come out of such proceedings unscathed. You will assume all responsibility and fault in those proceedings.” What the devil? “You can’t be serious.” Sarah continued. “However, if we agree to merely separate and if we don’t have children and you wish to take a mistress, do so discreetly. No harm or foul. Since one of the requirements of this union was for you to have a son.” The delicate tendons in her throat worked with a swallow. “I’m well aware of my age, so I might not be able to bear children at all. If that’s the case, I don’t want you to remain tied to me.” His heart gave an unexpected tug, for he’d never thought of any of this from her perspective. “Sarah, I’m… well, I’m glad I picked you.” For the first time in his life, gratitude swamped him. “We’ll weather each storm as we encounter it.” “Thank you, Andrew.” When she looked at him, a hint of pleasure warmed her eyes. Hearing his name from her lips took him by surprise. Awareness of her skittered up his spine. Grudging admiration snuck in to mix with his anger and took away a portion of the sting. She wasn’t a stupid woman by any stretch, and damn if she wasn’t afraid to meet him toe to toe. “Is that all of your changes?” “There is one more item.” She handed him the last piece of paper. “Since my great uncle won’t put a dowry on me, I want one from you.” “What?” His eyebrows rose. Was she mad? She nodded. “If our marriage goes to hell for whatever reason, I want security in the event of a divorce.” When she met his gaze, uncertainty swam in hers—the first hint of vulnerability she’d shown since marching into his study. “Ten thousand pounds in an account under my name with the Bank of England.” “Bloody hell.” He gasped at the princely sum. “And if we remain married?” “Bequeath it to our children.” Yes, she was exactly what he needed. “Fine.” After taking the pen from her, he scribbled his name onto the contract next to hers. Then he threw both the contract and the pen onto the desk. The need to clear his head grew strong, and his bride-to-be would do nicely. “I’m going into the village tomorrow morning to retrieve the signed common license. Would you like to accompany me?” “I would. I’ll need time to find a dress for the ceremony, for I refuse to start a new life clothed in the rags of the old.” When she spun to head for the door, he stepped into her path. “Thank you. I appreciate your attention to detail with the contract.” Surprise jumped into her eyes. “You’re certainly welcome. I want you to know that you’re not alone. Not anymore.” She pushed her spectacles back into place. “However, you do need to work on that temper. I refuse to live with an abusive man.” His respect for her continued to rise, as did his desire. Having her so close and enduring the rapid ebb and flow of high emotions required an outlet. “I’ve never hit anyone, would never lay a hand on a woman in anger. I’d sooner do harm to myself than that.” “Good. I draw the line there.” “Understandable.” He dropped his gaze briefly to her mouth. Yes, a kiss would do nicely. “Let me buy you a gown for the ceremony. Something worthy of a countess. After that, you can hire a modiste to come here and outfit you.” A tentative smile curved her lips. “I would like that. Thank you, my lord.” “Andrew, damn it.” Before she could speak again, he whisked her into his arms and brought his mouth crashing down on hers. She felt every bit as good in his embrace as she had the last time. It took next to no time for her to return his kiss. Despite the intensity, she wended her hands about his

neck and surrendered to his leading. She welcomed him with the same enthusiasm she’d shown in contract negotiating. Drew walked her backward the few steps until his desk bumped against her bum and stopped the movement. He slid a hand down her back. When he encountered her hips, he pulled her flush against him. Surely she could feel how much he wanted her. Then, daring much, he ran the tip of his tongue along her lips. When she opened for him, he went exploring, sought out her tongue and asked for anything she wished to give. With soft little sounds at the back of her throat, she fenced with him. Satin dueled with silk, and still he devoured her. This woman challenged him on every level, and she’d no doubt lead him a merry chase in the bedroom too. He groaned, his need for her ramping, and as he slipped a hand up her ribcage to cup a breast, she wrenched away. Her breathing was as labored as his, her eyes limpid pools of the finest brandy behind slightly steamed spectacle lenses. “Wed me first. Then you can bed me.” She touched the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip, and he nearly lost the last vestiges of his control. “I won’t have you treat me like a fallen woman merely to alleviate your need.” Instead of letting irritation surge to the forefront, he laughed. She’d thrown down her opening salvo with the negotiations and he’d countered her with the impromptu embrace. The next move was hers, and oh how he would enjoy this little game of chess. “I shall see you tomorrow, unless you’d like tea before you go?” Her throaty chuckle sent a shiver into his groin. “I think it’s safer if I return home. The events of this afternoon have already gone straight to my head.” Gingerly, she stepped around him with one last lingering glance at his mouth. “Enjoy your evening.” He would, for the mere fact that he’d think of inventive ways of routing her on their wedding night, which was approaching at a rapid pace. Perhaps it wouldn’t become the folly he anticipated.