Would Be King

by Kim Karr

  My palms are a sweaty mess.

  My pulse is racing.

  My heart pounding.

  I take a step.

  I’ve found my inner bombshell.

  With him.

  And then another and another still, right in the direction of Max, who is standing tall waiting for me with a beautiful grin on his face, I’m able to keep going despite the fact my legs feel like Jell-O.

  There are over four hundred guests in the chapel to witness our vows, including Queen Victoria, her husband King Adrien, and their child. Also here, Post Malone. Freaking Post Malone. By the way, the after-party is going to be epic with karaoke and live music.

  In addition, more than a thousand others awaiting us on the grounds of the castle for us to arrive after. However, as my father gives me away and I take my place next to Max, it only feels like him and me.

  Up at the wedding altar, he leans forward and whispers, “You look amazing,” and his words stop my heart.

  “You look amazing, yourself.”

  Lowering his voice even more, he starts singing in my ear, or more like rapping.

  We met in a taxi cab.

  On a day I’ll never forget.

  It was lust that turned into love,

  And now you’re mine to keep.

  He wrote me a song!

  This totally sexy man has a sweet side, and how lucky am I to have him? Even if I wasn’t already completely and madly in love with him, his heart-melting gesture only makes me fall harder.

  As the ceremony takes place, I hold his hand, stare into his eyes, smile at him. God, I love him.

  Love the man, and the Prince, too.

  The ceremony comes to an end when the Archbishop says the words, “You may kiss the bride.”

  Hushes throughout, and then the church is utterly quiet. Royal kisses are traditionally light pecks on the lips.

  Light pecks, not full blown mouth-on-mouth tongue action kisses like the ones Max and I always share.

  My heart pounds. Wild and fierce.

  What will he do?

  As he pulls back my veil, a pool of yearning swirls in my stomach when I notice the shifting blues in his eyes. We’ve been apart for twenty-four hours, and it feels like forever since I’ve seen his gorgeous blue eyes. They are icy blue to Bahama blue and seem to go through the entire spectrum of the sea as he looks down at me. Then, I can hardly see anything at all, only his pupils, suddenly dark as night. And I know exactly what he’s going to do.

  In front of the entire church, he squeezes his arm around my waist and pulls me flush to his hard body.

  With his free hand, he captures my face, and looks at my mouth like it’s his last meal.

  I raise my chin.

  Lick my lips.

  Gulp.

  Swallow.

  Smile.

  And say the most natural thing in the world. ”I love you.”

  This man is mine, and yet, I still feel butterflies just knowing he’s about to kiss me.

  His palm is warm. The feel of his skin electric. “I love you, too, Gigi, and I dare you not to bear me a child within the next year.”

  Before I can rebuke his dare, he’s lowering his lips to mine, taking me, fully and completely. Kissing me. Owning me. Dominating me.

  We both make a sound—his deep and hungry. Mine a small whimper. And still, we don’t tear our lips away from each other.

  Sparks shoot throughout me like fire racing in my veins. My toes curling, my heart pumping like mad, I just can’t stop kissing him.

  Somehow, out of the corner of my eye, I spot a large hand on his shoulder, and then hear a whisper. “Brother,” Leopold says sternly. “The entire church is waiting to congratulate you both.”

  Flushed, I pull away, but Max doesn’t let me go far as he draws me to his side, where we walk down the aisle to Ben E. King’s soul classic, “Stand by Me.”

  There’s cheering and clapping and people whispering, “Princess Gianna.”

  The hopeless romantic in me is giddy. I believed in true love and I got true love.

  How lucky am I?”

  I know I am very lucky because I have this amazing man by my side for the rest of my life.

  When we reach the church entrance, the music changes to the choir’s version of, “This Little Light of Mine,” and standing beside my very own Prince Charming, I take a moment to gaze up lovingly into his eyes.

  Gaze into eyes I will never get enough of.

  Eyes that look like ice and the feel like warmth. Eyes that I hope to be the same color blue as the baby’s eyes we will have someday. Someday. (I’m not so sure about the next year).

  And in those eyes, I can see that our story only has one fairytale ending…and that’s happily ever after.

  The Casanovia Conquest

  Breaking News

  TELEVISED

  By Ian Wesley

  Royals. Royals. Royals. And non-royals. Everywhere.

  Hear me.

  Hear me.

  Amidst all the many romantic gestures that took place during the royal wedding earlier today, one unforgettable moment stands out in particular. And it shows just how in love Prince Maximus and Gigi Gatsby really are.

  Doubters beware.

  This is true love.

  Sigh.

  It’s what the world is made of.

  I’m talking about the now-iconic moment at the wedding altar. You know the one. It’s gone viral, after all.

  The moment when Prince Maximus made every woman’s heart melt because he was caught biting his lip as his beloved Gigi Gatsby walked down the aisle on her father’s arm and then mouthing, I love you.

  Right now, it’s not surprising that the Twitter-universe is going crazy over that one super sensual move, and I swear it has everyone feeling all hot and bothered.

  Me included.

  Except now I’m questioning everything in my own life because if my man doesn’t bite his lip when he looks at me, is he really my soulmate?

  Tweet me what you think.

  Honestly, I think it’s time to find my own Prince Maximus.

  What about you?

  The Royal End

  The Unknown Royals Series Continues With…

  Prince Spencer Phillip Lexington of Catalina staring in Wannabe Heir is next in the series. It releases in April. To get a glimpse of the first two chapters in early March, signup for my newsletter here. Trust me, you don’t want to miss this one.

  SIGN UP HERE!

  Catch up with Queen Victoria Blanchette and how she met her King in Washed Up Royal.

  Prince Julius Churchill Monaco of Wimberly staring in The Pretend Prince coming this summer.

  This romance takes place in a fictional world I’ve created. It is known as the Vespa Isles and consists of five tiny fictional countries that border the coast of France, although they are not French. These countries are more American than European, except for their governing systems, which are much more similar to England’s than any other country.

  There is Alexandria, Wimberly, Catalina, Casanovia, and Eastwood. All small and independent but form a coalition of powers loosely overseen by a general assembly, a sort of League of Nations and the Council. Think Republicans and Democrats. Each has its own unique attributes. Alexandria is known for white sand beaches, relaxing resorts, and turquoise waters; Eastwood is known for its upscale casinos and yacht-lined harbors. Both Wimberly and Catalina are recognized for their exceptional food and wine. And Casanovia is known mostly for its famous nightclubs, fast cars, and loose women.

  When placed together, they form a more verbose version of Monte Carlo, and to the outsider, they coexist beautifully. The truth is much uglier. The five independent countries are held together by the same ancient governing laws that, if broken, could mean succession. Cannibalization is the less glamorous way to put it.

  Yet, power is, after all, what makes this world go round, and love, is after all, what we fight for.

  Hope you enjoyed!


  THE VESPA ISLES

  ALEXANDRIA

  King Stephen Edward Blanchette is a widower with one daughter, Princess Victoria Caroline Blanchette. He passes away before the story begins and leaves his daughter the crown, but only if she marries.

  CASANOVIA

  King Winston Alfred Montgomery is married to his new, and much younger wife, Queen Genevieve. He has two sons with his first wife—Price Leopold and Prince Maximus.

  EASTWOOD

  King Rutherford is married and has a child on the way. He has three cousins, Adrien, Truman, and Elizabeth.

  CATALINA

  The King and Queen have three children. Prince Spencer Lexington is the youngest.

  WIMBERLY

  Queen Helena has a son, Prince Vittore, and he has a son, Julius Monaco.

  If you enjoyed this swoon-worthy billionaire romance,

  be sure to read my free novella:

  TIED

  Click here

  IF YOU HAVEN’T READ TORI’S STORY YET, DON’T MISS IT!

  Washed Up Royal

  Also, here’s a sneak peek of my latest enemies-to-lovers romance:

  ReWined

  Paris:

  I had him at hello.

  Or maybe it was the down-on-one-knee comment that really got his full attention. Either way, he was standing there with his mouth open wide like a fish out of water.

  It shouldn’t have delighted me, but it did.

  His eyes went wide, and I couldn’t stop the tingle that ran down my spine as I stared up at him. God, he was the same and different all at the same time.

  Those eyes.

  Those bedroom eyes.

  Still bluer than any Bahamian sea. Still bottomless like the depths of the ocean. And still so expressive.

  One look from him and I swore a girl wanted to pull down her panties all on her own.

  He hadn’t changed a bit.

  I hated it.

  Hated that his nose was still so straight and his cheekbones so well defined. That those too-full lips which donned him the moniker, Pretty Boy, despite his best efforts to ditch it were still so inviting. Don’t even get me started on that masterfully tousled dirty-brown hair; it did always make me go weak in the knees.

  I detested that, too.

  Tyler Holiday was always tall, dark, and cocky, but now he had become a man. All grown-up and deliciously so.

  For one rapturous second, time rewound, and I got lost in a face I once thought I’d stare at forever. That mouth a little crooked grin and that masculine jaw now covered with at least a week of scruff.

  Yes, he was definitely all man.

  Standing before me with his hard-as-stone body and handsome-as-sin good looks, it was difficult to recall why I loathed him so much.

  But then he shrugged as if what I’d said hadn’t just rocked his world, and when he did, the hardness in his eyes became glaringly apparent. “I should have known you were in cohorts with the Wicked Witch of the West. Deceit always was your thing.”

  Trying to control my emotions, I stepped back, my cheeks burning under the heat of his intense gaze. From this vantage point I could see his face had become a perfectly blank mask. “Now that’s not nice, Tyler, and you know it.”

  Rather than admit defeat, he darted his gaze to the ground but allowed his lips to turn up just a bit more, smug-like. “You know nice isn’t my thing.”

  Right. That’s the exact moment I remembered exactly who he was. Oh, how I remembered.

  The party boy.

  The aloofness.

  The arrogance.

  Time had refined who he was, but his removed disposition hadn’t changed one bit. It was like a neon sign blinking with the message that he lived high in his own castle.

  It was received.

  Coming to my senses, I cocked a hip. “Wilhelmina called me after she dropped you off. I’m sure she knew you’d never see it through because come on, Tyler, commitment was never your thing.”

  He gave me another shrug. Playing at indifference was also his thing. Yet he forgot something—if he thought he knew me, then I definitely knew him.

  And the way his teeth started to clench and the way his forehead rose to his hairline were his tells. Tells of shock. Tells of surprise. Tells of anger. And maybe something a little darker, too.

  Yes, I had most definitely caught him off-guard.

  His disposition was almost endearing, and it would have been if I didn’t still hate him. Hate him with a passion that threatened to burn down the very walls of my being.

  His grown-up swagger and carefree attitude might have made me want to stab him, but the way he looked at me with that devilish smirk provoked me to want to stab myself—in the heart.

  Okay, not really.

  I just despised the way my most vital organ did this wild thump, thump, thump because he was near. Because he almost kissed me.

  It absolutely made no sense. He’d broken me ten years ago, and I knew he would break me once again if I let him.

  Even considering an alliance was insane. I ruled it out about two minutes after I heard the idea. Besides, I’d found a way out of my predicament. It wasn’t ideal but it was doable. And much safer.

  He stepped closer.

  I didn’t step back.

  Danger. Proceed with caution. Trouble. Trouble. Trouble. Those were the words that were stamped all over him.

  His warm breath whispered across my cheek, stoking the old flames of desire. I knew better than to let him get too close, and yet I couldn’t back away.

  The voice inside my head kept shouting, “Play with fire and you’ll get burned.”

  I should have listened.

  I didn’t.

  Then again, I never did listen to anyone, not even myself.

  “So, tell me?” he chuckled darkly, “Did the idea of being my wife make you wet?”

  The snicker that bubbled up my throat let him know the concept in itself was preposterous. “Hardly, it made me want to sew my vagina closed.”

  His returning smirk was a dangerous cocktail of amusement and desire. Warmth trickled down my spine from just the tilt of his full lips. Damn him. He hadn’t laid a finger on me, yet I felt his touch everywhere. “You’re a liar,” he said matter-of-factly, eyeing the way my pulse was throbbing in my neck.

  “It’s so nice to see you, too, and after all this time.” Now, I pressed my back against the wall, looking for distance, seeking relief from the fire he’d lit in me the moment I saw him standing on my driveway.

  He shook his head.

  “What, can’t say it back?”

  Some kind of emotion I couldn’t decipher flashed in those baby blues but it was gone in an instant. “Well, if I did, that would be a lie, and we both know I’m not the liar here. Besides, to be honest, it isn’t nice to see you. As a matter of fact, I hate the fact that you’ve allowed yourself to go from seductress to mere arm candy in only ten short years.”

  Anger and regret spun around me. I closed my eyes and re-opened them. Jutting my chin out, I didn’t want to drink in the sight of him yet I couldn’t resist.

  I might have hated the way things ended between us, but I despised what he had done even more. And I couldn’t forgive him for that. For not seeing what was real. So I had to turn my feelings off. Play the girl the world saw—the party girl. “And I see you’ve successfully graduated from jerk to asshole in less than a decade.”

  His wry smile disappeared. And the frown that replaced it was accompanied by a glacial stare. “What are you doing with that guy?”

  Telling him Henri and I were hopelessly in love was useless. He’d already seen the truth. “I already told you, it’s none of your business.”

  His hard body pressed against mine. “You don’t think I figured it out the second I saw him bent over a dude? That you’re Henri LeBlanc’s veil to the world and he must be your savior.”

  I shrugged. “Paint the picture however you like,” I told him. “Either way, Henri and I are getting married.�
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  His brow furrowed and he stepped back, tucking a hand in his pocket and using the other to tousle his hair. “You can’t be serious?”

  A waft of his fresh, clean, masculine scent filled my nose. I inhaled and couldn’t stop the way I shivered in response. The impact he had on me was as undeniable as it was useless. “I am, actually. We plan to make our announcement very soon. I’m sure you’ll read about it in the headlines.”

  “This is about saving Highway 128.”

  “I couldn’t deny it.”

  His long, lean body angled forward and his big palm hit the wall beside my head. “There is another way to keep your father’s winery out of bankruptcy.”

  It was more than a hint of a proposition.

  Goose bumps prickled my side as a thrill of excitement crashed inside my chest, until I remembered this was Tyler Holiday, and he hadn’t changed a bit. That wall was still there, tall and wide and unapproachable, and I couldn’t attempt the climb again. “And what might that be?” I asked rather menacingly.

  “Marry me, instead,” he whispered, his tone gruff, his voice shaky as if he couldn’t believe he was suggesting such a thing.

  “Never,” I said, in a vengeful hiss.

  Unabashed, he pinned me with a wolfish grin. “Never say never, Paris.” Then taking a step back, he went on. “How about I leave the offer on the table and you take a few days to think about all the good sex you won’t be having with Frenchy. I’ll call you first thing Tuesday morning.”

  I didn’t like the way his stare ignited a yearning I hadn’t felt in years. “And I won’t be answering,” I told him and gave him my back the way he had done earlier. Then over my shoulder, I tossed, “And Tyler?”