Once Upon a Fairy tale: A Collection of 11 Fairy Tale Inspired Romances

by Danielle Monsch, Cate Rowan, Jennifer Lewis, Jeannie Lin, Nadia Lee, Dee Carney

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  “You can’t see her before the wedding! It’s bad luck.” Conchita paused from blow drying Sandy’s hair to scold Marco through the door. “Go away!”

  “That’s just an old superstition.” Sandy wanted nothing more than a reassuring hug from Marco right now. “Please let me see him.”

  “No.” Conchita pursed her lips, which were uncharacteristically pink with lipstick. Since she was such a loving tyrant, they let her get away with murder. “You’ll see him at the altar where you’ll become man and wife. And not a moment too soon!” She cast a knowing glance at Sandy’s pregnant belly, then winked.

  Sandy shook her head. They’d set a date for the wedding, giving them plenty of time to plan a grand affair, then discovered two weeks later that she was already pregnant. “I still think we should have waited. The dress would look so much prettier if my waist wasn’t three times its normal size.”

  Conchita had sewn the dress herself from some of the most expensive fabric known to mankind: hand woven silk covered with thousands of tiny seed pearls. Marco’d encouraged her to let her imagination run wild and go nuts. She had.

  “It’s important to be married before the birth. To give your child a proper name.”

  Sandy sighed. She’d been an outsider long enough herself, and the object of cruel gossip, to want her child to have every advantage in life. “I suppose you’re right, but it still seems very old-fashioned.”

  “Sometimes old-fashioned is the best way.” She smiled mysteriously, still tugging at Sandy’s hair with the brush while wafting the blow dryer, making it fall past her shoulders in a gleaming sheet. “If more people listened to old ladies, the world would be a happier place. Where would you be without me, eh?”

  She had a point. “Who knows? That nasty manager probably would have fired me by now. I don’t know what her problem was.”

  “She was jealous.” Conchita stopped the dryer and smoothed her hair with a palmful of some mystery emollient. “She could see what I saw, that you were a beautiful young woman destined for great things.”

  Sandy raised a brow. “So both of you could tell that less than a year later I’d be living in a big mansion in New Jersey—with the owner of the company—just weeks away from giving birth to his baby?”

  “While studying part-time at Princeton University.” Conchita brushed imaginary lint from her shoulder. “And to think you wanted to refuse that date when I first offered it to you!”

  “Why did you buy the raffle ticket in the first place? Did you realize employees weren’t supposed to enter?”

  “Pfft.” Conchita winked. “My English is not so good-looking. And I needed some excitement in my life.” She put down the dryer.

  “You’ve got it now you’ve come to live with us.” Conchita had moved in to one of the twelve large bedrooms in their new house in Alpine, New Jersey, to help plan the wedding. And she was giddy with excitement about helping with the baby when it arrived.

  Sandy tossed her hair, which looked like satin. “Am I finally done?” They’d been in here all morning. The woman gazing back at her from the mirror looked insanely glamorous, just as she had on her first date with Marco. Funny, really—he’d told her many times since that he preferred her natural look. Still, you couldn’t argue with Conchita, because none of them would be here today without her energetic scheming.

  “You look like an angel.” Conchita pressed her hands together, admiring her handiwork.

  “Luckily Marco knows I’m anything but.” She stood and fluffed out the full skirt of her incredible dress. “Now is it okay with you if I just go marry him?”

  “Of course, my princess.” Conchita ushered her to the door. “I planned it that way all along.”

  The End

  Author Biography

  Jennifer Lewis grew up in England where she enjoyed a steady diet of fairy tales—some of them quite unsuitable for children—from an early age. She is a USA TODAY bestselling author and her stories have been translated into more than twenty languages. A New Yorker for many years, she now lives in sunny South Florida and when she’s not sitting at her laptop she can often be found at the beach. Read more about her books at www.jenlewis.com.

  Escape to a faraway kingdom in the Desert Kings series:

  Bold and passionate brothers return to claim their thrones in remote and beautiful Ubar after their estranged father dies and divides his kingdom between them.

  Desert Kings Short: Veronica – Stranded with the Sheikh FREE!

  Desert Kings: Book 1: Osman – Rescued by the Sheikh

  Desert Kings: Book 2: Zadir – Bought for the Sheikh

  Desert Kings Short: A Christmas Wedding

  Desert Kings Book 3: Gibran – Return of the Rebel Sheikh

  Desert Kings: Book 4: Amahd – Captivated by the Sheikh

  Join the new release mailing list at www.jenlewis.com.

  Braided Silk

  Future Tales 2

  Ella Drake

  Rapunzel was made with technologically advanced hair. As a trained Mother agent, Zel can’t escape the DNA that makes her a pawn in corporate espionage. Kidnapped and held in a tower on Gothel Island, she falls to the sexual allure of her captor’s son, Langley, a man whose every tantalizing touch makes her forget she wasn’t born human.

  Langley Gothel protests the existence of creations such as Zel, but when faced with losing her, he sees the truth: Life is precious, whether born, modified, or shaped in a Petri dish. He does the one thing he’s thought he’d never do. He has to give up Zel, or become a mod. But will that be enough to get them down from the floating islands and safely to ground?

  This story has been revised and expanded from its first edition.

  First electronic publishing, copyright © 2011 by Ella Drake.

  Chapter One

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  Hands shaking, Rapunzel Denmark shoved her fingers into the soil and took solace in the rich earth. The garden soothed the last of her frenzied nerves. After her last-ditch effort to appeal, the Mother organization had finally denied her request to become an agent. They hadn’t even sent a letter. She’d heard the results moments ago when she’d received notice from her rep’s administrative assistant—three days after the fifteen minute meeting that had decided her fate.

  A shadow moved slowly overhead and cast a silhouette over a row of herbs. She lifted her face in time to catch a small break in smog. One of the myriad of floating islands flew past. A small flash of light blinked but was the only sign of the behemoth other than its dark shape.

  The sky went back to unrelenting gray.

  Powered through a timer, a row of solar lights flickered on. The lit, overhead track misted clean, unpolluted water and she smiled, licking the moisture from her lips and letting the tension ebb from her shoulders.

  She patted the damp soil into place around a rare bean plant. The stalk sprouted bright green despite the normally inhospitable environment here on the surface of the planet. In the sky, where the rich lived in mansions that flew above the smog, plants could grow without such drastic measures, but down here there were few patches of fertile earth.

  “You don’t care if I was created in a womb or a lab, do you?” She asked the beans. Standing, she dusted her hands on her pants and laughed.

  If only the Mother organization were as accepting as plants. Shaking her head, she forced herself inside before the irrigation soaked her completely through and she’d have to explain to Monsieur Bovine why. Inside, she left her shoes at the door and went to tidy up. Bovine would stop by soon enough to discuss her latest plant-growth trial. If she looked as pissed off and as frustrated as she felt, he’d think it had to do with the new strain of hardy beans she hoped would prove viable. Then she’d have to explain that she’d gone behind his back and asked for a reconsideration.

  That would hurt him.

  Vibrations shook the condo—the condo that belonged to Bovine and not her since as a non-born, she had no rights. If anything happened to t
his place, she’d be back to living in a warehouse. A thump rocked the building and she swayed. Regaining her feet, she ran to the door and reached for the security panel.

  The reinforced metal door blew open.

  Uniformed men streamed in. Four of them. They wore no identification.

  “Don’t move,” One of the strangers commanded. They were in all black, masks covering faces, mechguns in hand.

  “The hell?” she muttered.

  Backpedaling, she skidded on the tile, her heel sliding, and her feet went out from under her. Her hip slammed into the hard floor and she winced. Scrambling, she managed to crawl forward on her belly. The cabinet she needed was built into the wall just ahead of her. She reached for it. Weapons. Alarms. Only a few feet away.

  Pain sizzled over her scalp. Her head yanked back and she lurched.

  They had her hair. Not surprising since it was so long she nearly tripped on it. Grinding her teeth, she reached over her shoulder and grabbed a handful of her specialized hair. Made of scientifically-enhanced protein filaments, it was completely indestructible. Uncuttable. Unique. The reason for her existence.

  A fist slammed her arm followed by a pinch. She fell on her face and her arm dropped, useless. The room swam around her and grew hazy.

  Bovine. Don’t let him be hurt like this, please. Whatever these people wanted, they needed to hurry, before her mentor, the man who raised her, got hurt, too. Her legs went numb and she breathed out and in carefully, unsure she could even manage to feed her lungs, her body was so completely unresponsive.

  “Get her out of here.” Unbelievably, the aloof command settled her. Whoever these people were, they’d leave Bovine alone. He was important. Not just to her, but to Mother, to everyone. Nothing could happen to him.

  Zel had never had use beyond her hair. Created by the Mother organization, the secret spy arm of the government, the Global Organization of Strategic Equity (GOoSE), Zel trained as an agent, spent her free time experimenting in her garden, and reported in for research on her hair once a month. She’d never been free.

  Some agent she’d turned out to be. Taken down without a fuss.

  The world whirled around her as she was lifted and carried out the front door. Darkness crept into her vision as she was shoved into a hovercraft sitting outside, plain as day, in the street in a section of the compound where flying was prohibited.

  They lifted into the air and for the first time ever, she left the Mother compound without Bovine. Unable to move, incapable of fear as the drugs sent her into near catatonia, she drifted in blindness.

  Her creator, Monsieur Bovine, had taken pity on her and had her work as his botanical research assistant, but would he care that she’d been stolen?

  Probably.

  If not for her, then for the research she provided.

  Her hair had been modified in-vitro to contain a special keratin, a protein that created unbreakable fibers. The marketability of such a product might have enormous financial impact. But the experiment had a fatal flaw. The very nature of her hair made it impossible to study and despite the effort put into her creation, no one had fully delved into her hair’s potential.

  After a life of being ignored, shunned, put aside by everyone except for her mentor, there could be only one reason she’d been grabbed.

  “Wake up.” The even-toned command came along with a slap on the back of the hand.

  Zel flinched.

  “Hold steady,” the female doctor continued. Only doctors spoke that way.

  A metal on metal scratching sounded near her ear.

  Zel croaked, “Can’t cut it.”

  “All creations must speak to me with the formal form of address.” She slapped the back of Zel’s hand again. “I am Madame Gothel.”

  Steeling her body, Zel caught her cringe and the wince before they formed.

  Forcing her eyes open, she stared at the white-coated doctor leaning over her. Madame Gothel appeared young with sleek, dark hair and smooth features, but the bitterness in the slash of her mouth indicated she was older.

  “Come in, son,” Madame Gothel called over her shoulder. Movement sounded from the other side of a small circular room, but Zel couldn’t seem much beyond the woman blocking her view.

  Zel ground her teeth and took stock of her surroundings. She was clothed in a thin hospital gown, her ankles and wrists bound to a small pallet, and a hank of her hair caught in a vice attached to a medi-analysis machine. There was just enough give in the restraints to wiggle but not enough to get free. Just as she tried to form the words to demand her freedom, the doctor made adjustments on her monitor and the bindings fell open. Straining, Zel tried to move her legs, but they were leaden and her arms were sluggish. Hoping the lassitude would wear off, she listened and scanned the room.

  The doctor addressed her son and continued to ignore Zel.

  “About time you got here. This is my latest experiment. My new acquisition is the last piece needed in my research into indestructible prosthetic limb replacements. I’ve had this subject in a medical coma for weeks while I’ve tried unsuccessfully to replicate its hair. I’ve brought it out from under sedation in order for you to question it.” Madame Gothel straightened, snapped off her gloves, and yanked Zel’s hair out of the vice. “I’ll expect a report in the morning.”

  “Question her?” The newcomer drawled smoothly.

  “Yes. About the hair. If you’d read the findings I’d sent to you, you’d be prepared. If not, access them from this station.” Madame Gothel patted the top of the medi-analysis machine, stalked out the door, and snapped it closed behind her.

  “Weeks?” Zel croaked and licked her dry lips.

  “Let’s make this quick, shall we? No need for us to belabor this or for you to put up a fuss. How can she replicate your hair?” The stranger edged closer. The swish of the air and change of the feel of the room told her he neared even though she hadn’t heard him move.

  Zel couldn’t contain the flinch this time. Her gaze darted around the room. It was nearly barren. It had the bed, an exercise machine, and a table.

  It also held an incredibly attractive man with dark hair that curled at the edges. Glasses that made his eyes seem bright and big. A full, masculine mouth that parted on a huff of frustration. And wide shoulders encased in an expensively spun shirt that clung to him in a way that showed his physique while remaining crisp. He was practically made of money.

  “Give me something to tell her. You don’t want her to question you instead. Trust me on that.” Striding forward, his long legs moving with a quiet grace, he stopped near the head of her bed and raised a brow. “What is your name?”

  He’d said, you and your. Unlike his mother who treated her as an it, a non-human, a piece of trash, he spoke to her as a person.

  Swallowing the ache in her throat, she managed, “Rapunzel Denmark.”

  “Unique name. I’m Langley.”

  “People call me Zel.” People meaning Bovine. She’d tell him nothing other than what they had to know already. In fact, that they knew enough to kidnap her meant they may know more about her than she did. She snorted.

  A soft touch stroked over her wrist. “What can you tell me?”

  “The hair is unbreakable. As far as I know, anyway.” She rolled to the side and tried to push into a sitting position but her arms gave out. Her face smashed into a surprisingly soft pillow case. Kidnapped, but the sheets were nice.

  “Let me help you up.” His hand brushed her hip and she shivered.

  He was close. As close as anyone ever got to her outside of martial arts training with Mother agents. Langley’s scent was soothing, like he’d just stepped out of a shower. Pure. Nothing like the smog taint that everyone carried on the ground. She should be knocking this man on his ass, sprinting out the door, and finding a way out of here, but she couldn’t seem to get to her feet.

  A click sounded across the room and her attention focused for the first time since she’d awakened. A light hissing follow
ed and she tried to pinpoint it. The ceiling grew foggy and something like a mist settled on her skin. Langley frowned and stared toward the door before he shook his head.

  Turning back toward her, he licked his lips.

  The hand on her hip burned through the thin material that barely covered her. A small, back corner of her consciousness doubted. Feared. Something wasn’t right.

  But his hand squeezed ever so lightly, and she inhaled sharply.

  Her lassitude turned to a weighted passion. Languid, breathless, she lifted her hand, slowly, slowly, and brushed a lock of hair that had fallen into his face. It was permission. Invitation.

  Langley licked his lips again and wordlessly kneeled further over her. His breath fanned over her face and his heat caressed her torso.

  “You say you don’t know anything about your hair?”

  She shook her head and opened her mouth. Her lips brushed across his stubbled cheek. They both groaned.

  “What did you ask?” she murmured against his hot skin.

  “I don’t…” He shifted and his body weight leaned into her.

  “Yes,” she hissed and bucked against him. She ground against the erection his slacks couldn’t hide.

  Her dress had ridden up and her naked mound rasped against the material over his cock. His hand reached between them and as she gasped and shuddered, he worked his pants open. Fingers brushed through her wetness and she yelped. “Now, now, now.”

  Urgent. Hot. Wet. Slick, so damn slick.

  Then he nudged against her opening.

  She was a bio-creation. She had the appropriate installed protections. He was fully human. Hot. Sexy. And he wanted her.

  His cock slid into her with ease and she didn’t question why losing her virginity was so easy, so simple. Too many like her were created for sex and the patterns were there, patterns to allow the ease, the hunger, the bliss of another person inside her.