by: Christi Barth
Series: Sexy Misadventures of Royals
Genre: Contemporary Romance/Romantic Comedy
Release Date: August 24, 2020
Publisher: Entangled Publishing ~ Amara
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What happens when you mix an average American woman with a decidedly not average future King?
I can tell you from experience—a whole lot of complications.
You see, four months ago, my all-American sister, Kelsey, found out that she’s not actually my sister—she’s a princess of a country we’d never heard of. She begged me to come along when she was whisked off to her new palace, so here I am. An outsider who doesn’t fit in anywhere.
Now that she’s settled, I should go back to my exciting new career in New York. I absolutely should not stay in a country where I got shot (long story), where I suck so badly at the national sport that I accidentally murdered the symbol of the monarchy in front of half the country, and—oh yeah—where I can’t stop ogling Kelsey’s actual brother.
The Crown Prince.
The man who has to marry a very important princess. (not me)
The man who must create the next heir to the throne. (without me)
The man I absolutely can never be with. (remember that long story?)
The man who just gave me the best sex of my life…
Did I mention that it’s complicated?
“Well, if you hadn’t noticed, I’m rather competitive. I won’t ever turn down a bet.”
A ghost of a smile flirted with the corners of his mouth. “Nor will I.”
Mallory took a deep breath. Yes, she was probably about to cross a line. But the Grand Duchess had labeled her family. Wasn’t family who you could trust to tell the truths that you needed to hear?
Plus, watching Christian stoically try to ignore the potential awfulness of his future just clawed at her heart strings. Made her want to hug him, and stroke his head soothingly, and bake him some uber-comforting double chocolate Irish Cream brownies.
“I also think it’s important to state for the record that you’ve inherited a crappy deal. Being told who you’re allowed to marry. Like you’re handed a prix fixe dinner menu, and you simply don’t have a taste for the three choices.” Mallory slowly shook her head, mindful of the weight of the tiara. “It’s not fair. You’re giving your whole life to this country. You deserve happiness.”
“I haven’t done anything to deserve it. But I do want it.” Christian lifted her hand, pressed a kiss to the backs of her knuckles. Half bent, looking up at her from beneath heavy-lidded eyes, he could be a movie poster of Prince Charming. “I want you.”
It was a moment—another one—she’d remember for the rest of her life. The stars, the softness of an oversized tree fern against her arm, the sweet scent of a night-blooming something, and the handsome prince giving her the most knee-melting of looks.
Why did she have to be the party pooper? The adult in the room? Why couldn’t she turn off her responsibility-meter? “Oh, no. I mean, wow, but, we can’t.”
“I can’t not want you, Mallory.”
Well, she couldn’t lie to the man. Her good, Midwestern ethics wouldn’t allow it. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you, either. I keep trying. I think that’s why I tried so hard tonight to find someone appropriate for you.”
“Appropriate? That sounds like a balanced diet with kale three times a week and no pasta. Like that menu you mentioned. Not at all what I want. So screw appropriate. I want you.” Christian surged forward. He locked an arm around her waist, splayed a palm across her nape, and kissed her.
His tongue immediately entwined with hers. Because there was no polite, warm-up peck. From the heat of his kiss, Christian had been as…affected…by their coupling in the bar as Mallory. And he’d been lusting for more, exactly as she had. A week’s worth of pent-up lust packed quite a punch.
It was grappling to see who could lick more, taste more. It was sloppy, wanton, wet proof of how much they wanted each other. It was a battle with no losers.
It was perfection.
A ghost of a smile flirted with the corners of his mouth. “Nor will I.”
Mallory took a deep breath. Yes, she was probably about to cross a line. But the Grand Duchess had labeled her family. Wasn’t family who you could trust to tell the truths that you needed to hear?
Plus, watching Christian stoically try to ignore the potential awfulness of his future just clawed at her heart strings. Made her want to hug him, and stroke his head soothingly, and bake him some uber-comforting double chocolate Irish Cream brownies.
“I also think it’s important to state for the record that you’ve inherited a crappy deal. Being told who you’re allowed to marry. Like you’re handed a prix fixe dinner menu, and you simply don’t have a taste for the three choices.” Mallory slowly shook her head, mindful of the weight of the tiara. “It’s not fair. You’re giving your whole life to this country. You deserve happiness.”
“I haven’t done anything to deserve it. But I do want it.” Christian lifted her hand, pressed a kiss to the backs of her knuckles. Half bent, looking up at her from beneath heavy-lidded eyes, he could be a movie poster of Prince Charming. “I want you.”
It was a moment—another one—she’d remember for the rest of her life. The stars, the softness of an oversized tree fern against her arm, the sweet scent of a night-blooming something, and the handsome prince giving her the most knee-melting of looks.
Why did she have to be the party pooper? The adult in the room? Why couldn’t she turn off her responsibility-meter? “Oh, no. I mean, wow, but, we can’t.”
“I can’t not want you, Mallory.”
Well, she couldn’t lie to the man. Her good, Midwestern ethics wouldn’t allow it. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you, either. I keep trying. I think that’s why I tried so hard tonight to find someone appropriate for you.”
“Appropriate? That sounds like a balanced diet with kale three times a week and no pasta. Like that menu you mentioned. Not at all what I want. So screw appropriate. I want you.” Christian surged forward. He locked an arm around her waist, splayed a palm across her nape, and kissed her.
His tongue immediately entwined with hers. Because there was no polite, warm-up peck. From the heat of his kiss, Christian had been as…affected…by their coupling in the bar as Mallory. And he’d been lusting for more, exactly as she had. A week’s worth of pent-up lust packed quite a punch.
It was grappling to see who could lick more, taste more. It was sloppy, wanton, wet proof of how much they wanted each other. It was a battle with no losers.
It was perfection.
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Christi can always be found either whipping up gourmet meals (for fun, honest!) or with her nose in a book. She lives in Maryland with the best husband in the world.
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