Virgin Bride: A Single Dad Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  She stares at it and then launches herself at me, knocking me over to the ground as she hugs me as hard as she can. I laugh, hugging her back, pulling her body against mine.

  “Are you sure?” she asks, her voice muffled against my chest.

  “Of course. We’re already a family, Riley, but this will make it official.”

  “Violet,” she says.

  “What?”

  She looks up at me, grinning. “My name is Violet now.”

  I laugh and kiss her gently. “Good point.”

  She hugs me again and I know this is right. This is what coming home feels like.

  Soon, we’ll get married. Once I save up enough money, we’ll travel to Australia. From there, maybe we’ll travel to Europe, or maybe we’ll settle down and have babies, or maybe we’ll go back to the States.

  It doesn’t matter what we do. The world is infinite and the possibilities are endless. We have all the freedom we could ever possibly need, and we won’t give that up for absolutely anything.

  Best of all, we have each other. It doesn’t matter where we go, because it’s always home when we’re together. I can’t get enough of her body, her voice, her mannerisms, the way she sings in the shower, the way she wrinkles her nose when coffee is too hot, everything. I love it all and need it all, always, everywhere.

  I’m hers, wherever we are, whenever we are. This is all I need. I’ll never let anyone hurt her again, and we’ll always be free.

  Royal Rock: A Bad Boy Royal Romance

  Prologue: Bryce

  I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m not great at geography.

  It wasn’t my best subject when I was a kid, and as I got older there just wasn’t much use for it. I never needed to know exactly where Belarus was or if Luxembourg was landlocked or not.

  So when someone told me about Starkland, it was no surprise that I had never heard of it.

  I’ll never forget that morning. I came downstairs, made some coffee, and then my stepmother cleared her throat.

  “Bryce,” she said, “did you know that you’re descended from royalty?”

  I nearly choked on my toast.

  As it turns out, my father comes from an old royal family in Starkland. Over five hundred years ago, they were kicked out of the country after another family took control, and we never looked back since. Back then we were called the Bismarck royal family, but now we just go by Koch.

  My father never talked about Starkland. Apparently having royal blood never much mattered to him. Robert Koch is a practical man, an accountant, kind, and generous. Having obscure royal blood in his veins just never much mattered to him.

  Until one day it mattered a lot.

  I’ll never know what my father first thought when he saw that letter written on royal stationary. He probably doesn’t even remember. But it was an invitation to return to our ancestral home and to meet the current royal family. Of course, it was an all-expenses paid trip, and so we jumped at it. How could we have known what they really wanted?

  It wasn’t like they came out and said it in the letter. Could you imagine? “Dear Robert Koch, we’d like your daughter to marry our reigning monarch because there’s this bitter civil war raging and he needs an heir, so this would be a really great publicity move. Interested?”

  Dad would have freaked out.

  Fortunately for the Starkland royal cabinet, they didn’t bother mentioning their real motives for inviting us. If they had, none of this would have ever happened.

  But they didn’t, and so we went. I’ll never forget stepping off that plane for the first time and seeing Starkland. Vast forests, wide, beautiful rivers, and him.

  He was more impressive than the landscape. Christophe Werner von Brunhild the Third, Prince of the Lowlands and the Right King of Starkland, or Trip as I’d later find out everyone called him, stood easily over six feet tall and held himself with that cocky swagger you’d come to expect from a guy at a dive bar, not from royalty. He smirked at me as soon as I made eye contact with him, and that smile sent a jolt running down my spine.

  He looked the way I imagined kings should look. Muscular, broad, and handsome, there was that slight stubble on his chin that suggested he was either way too busy to shave or just didn’t give a damn what people thought. Still, there was something off about the way he held himself. I’d expected a rigid and serious man, but instead Trip seemed to regard the whole spectacle with detached amusement.

  In only three short days, I’d feel his breath against my neck in the deep darkness of the castle’s interior. His lips would brush my ear and he’d say, “Pretend all you want, Bryce, but we both know what you want. You can’t stop thinking about my hands between your legs. Are you dripping wet already? Let me find out.”

  If I could go back and do it all again, I’d warn myself. Standing on that tarmac, I had no clue what was about to happen to me.

  If I could, I’d tell myself to turn around and run away. Trip might be royalty, but he’s a royal asshole.

  A handsome, cocky, devilish royal asshole. The kind of man that makes me so angry I can barely speak while still absolutely dripping wet.

  That’s Trip, layer after layer, all rolled into one deliciously handsome package.

  But I didn’t turn around and I didn’t run away. I shook hands and smiled for the cameras just like I was told. When I got to Trip, he leaned forward and whispered into my ear.

  “Welcome to Starkland,” he said. “Call me Trip. I can’t wait to see what that beautiful ass looks like in just a pair of panties.”

  What happened next changed a lot of lives, especially mine.

  1

  Bryce

  Nobody actually tells you not to slap the King.

  Nobody said those words. Sure, they tell you to be polite and to smile for the pictures, but they don’t warn you that the current King of Starkland, a young and handsome asshole named Trip, might whisper something dirty in your ear. And in response, you might want to slap him in the face.

  They don’t tell you not to do that. So when I wound up and slapped him right in his cocky, attractive face, the crowd went absolutely still.

  Nobody moved a muscle. Technically, striking the King of Starkland carried the penalty of death. Or at least that was what I read online later that night.

  As soon as my hand left his cheek, I covered my mouth in shock.

  Trip turned to me, and for one smoldering moment I thought he might reach out for me and pull me against him.

  Instead, he laughed. Loud and boisterous, he tossed his head back and laughed.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” he called out, “this American sure as hell has spirit!”

  The assembled media broke out into laughter and the whole thing was quickly smoothed over. We were whisked away into a black town car that headed toward the capital city of Starkland and the royal castle, where we’d be staying during out visit.

  My stepmother was livid. As soon as the doors closed, she whirled on me.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” she hissed.

  Lucy Koch was a couple years younger than my father, and I had no clue how he could stand her. Blond and severe, my stepmother seemed to only care about appearances and status and not about anything that actually mattered.

  “He said something to me,” I answered, frowning.

  “He’s the king, Bryce! He could whisper anything in your ear and you have to just smile and nod.” Lucy was fuming.

  My father, though, simply put his hand on her knee. “What did he say, honey?” he asked.

  Robert Koch was a kind and quiet man. Dark haired and blue eyed, everybody said he was incredibly handsome. I didn’t really see it, but he was my father after all. It’d be weird if I did.

  “Nothing,” I said. “I’m not repeating it. But it was inappropriate.”

  “Maybe that’s how they greet people here?” he asked.

  I looked at my stepmother. “Did he mention anything about panties to you?”

 
She paused. “No,” she admitted.

  “Then I suspect it wasn’t that.”

  Dad shook his head. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

  “No. The only mistake was when Bryce slapped the King in front of cameras,” Lucy said.

  “He deserved it,” I said.

  She shot me a look.

  “We can leave,” Dad offered. “Right now. It’s not too late. We can turn back around and leave.”

  I bit my lip and could feel Lucy’s stare boring into me. I knew that if I said the word, we really would get the hell out of Starkland as fast as we could. But the truth was, I didn’t want to leave.

  Starkland was beautiful. Even just having been in the country for less than an hour, I was already starting to fall in love with it. The whole place looked like it came right from that famous mountain meadow scene in The Sound of Music. It was picturesque, with rolling hills and majestic mountains and deep, dark forests. It was like a fantasy novel come to life or something.

  And besides, I’d always wanted to know about my heritage. As far as I had heard, the Koch family had come to America with some of the original settlers. We were as American as possible, which meant we didn’t have a deep history. I wanted to know more about my bloodline, about the people I was descended from. As far as I could tell, this was my best chance to really understand my own history.

  Finally, I wasn’t doing much back at home in Philadelphia. I was home on break from college, where I was studying to become a nurse, and I was bored as hell. I went to school at Temple University, which was right in the heart of Philadelphia. The suburbs were boring me to tears, and a trip to some tiny European country that I’d never heard of sounded like a lot more fun than working at Rite Aid for three months.

  “It’s only two weeks,” I said finally. “Let’s just stay and see what happens. We can always leave later.”

  Lucy nodded, looking smug. “See, Robert? She’s fine. She’ll apologize to the King and things will be fine.”

  Dad frowned. “Are you sure?” he asked me.

  “I’m sure. I won’t apologize, but we should stay.”

  Lucy shot me another look, but I ignored her.

  We were in a beautiful country, foreign and exotic. I was getting a chance to finally see where I came from, and all for free. Sure, I’d slapped the King in the face, but that would be smoothed over eventually. Besides, I doubted we’d even be seeing much of him again.

  Not like I’d want to anyway. He was crude and totally out of line. So what if he was also incredibly handsome and had a grin that could melt glass? The man was a royal asshole, and that was all I needed to know.

  As the car wound its way through the capital city of Stehen, I was already trying to put that cocky king out of my mind.

  2

  Trip

  “Your highness, shall we have that impudent American arrested?”

  I could still feel the slight sting on my cheek from where Bryce Koch had slapped me in front of the media. I smiled to myself again at the angry look in her eyes.

  That was going to piss off the cabinet. I didn’t much care, though. They were a bunch of stuffed coats playing political games with each other. I was the king now, and I didn’t have to stoop down to their shitty level.

  That American girl was the first person since I took the crown who had actually stood up to me. That meant she actually had a spine, and there was nothing I wanted more in a woman than fire and strength.

  Bryce Koch seemed to have both in spades.

  “No,” I said to the Foreign Affairs Minister Richter Johansson. “Leave the girl alone. I deserved it, actually.”

  “What did you say to her?”

  I shrugged. “Just mentioned my desire to get to know her better.”

  “I’m sure.” Richter’s pursed lips screamed disapproval, but that was fine. I was used to disappointing the members of the royal cabinet, the powerful lords and ladies who helped run the government of Starkland.

  Lynette Muller, the public affairs minister, shook her head. “This is going to look bad, Your Highness.”

  I winced. “Stop calling me that. My name is Trip.”

  She shrugged. “Very well, Trip. With the separatists in the south gaining ground since your father passed, we can’t afford for you to look weak.”

  “Then do something about that.” I shrugged. “Leave the girl alone. She’s a guest here.”

  “Very well.”

  I liked Lynette, though she could wear on my patience with her strict etiquette. She was middle aged, blond, and thin. The other members of the cabinet called her the Pig Charmer behind her back, because she spent all her time trying to win over the public.

  The other ministers could be a bunch of out-of-touch, aristocratic shit heels.

  “Minister Muller has a point, Your Highness,” Richter said. I gave him a look and he frowned. “Okay, Trip. The rebels are gaining some support, although slowly. We can’t afford for you to look weak.”

  I stared the man down and leaned forward. “I’m many things, Richter, but I am not weak.”

  “We know that, Trip, but the people need to know it.”

  “Fuck them,” I said, looking out the window, “and especially fuck the separatists.”

  The separatists, or the Democratic Legion of Revolutionaries, were a huge pain in my ass. They began as a movement that wanted more democracy in Starkland and had bloomed into a full-on revolt when my father passed away two years ago.

  None of this was meant for me, I thought for the hundredth time. If Leo hadn’t been so desperate for military glory, I’d still be living the life of a high-ranking minister. I wouldn’t have the responsibility of the entire nation resting squarely on my shoulders. That sort of responsibility was meant for my older brother, Leopold. He’d been born and bred for it, whereas I was never expected to amount to much.

  Which suited me just fine. Starkland was a beautiful country full of beautiful women, and it was my pleasure to meet as many of them as I possibly could.

  I’d met a lot in my time, right up until Leo died two months ago and the crown passed to me. Ever since then I was learning my new job and didn’t have time for the pleasures of my old life.

  Frankly, I hadn’t so much as looked at a woman that way until Bryce Koch showed up. I couldn’t help but smirk at her the second she stepped off that plane. She was a few years younger than me, twenty-one, with long dark hair tied up in a thick bun. Her lips were full and her green eyes instantly took in everything around her. I loved the way her soft, pale skin looked underneath her dark clothing, and I wanted so badly to slowly strip her bare until I could see and taste every inch of her.

  Which was why I couldn’t help myself. Normally I’d be polite to visiting guests, but she was just too delicious. I had to say something, just to test her.

  And she passed that test with flying colors. She passed that test so well, the entire country was going to be talking about her for some time to come.

  It was a shame that she didn’t know why she was really visiting Starkland. If Lynette had actually told the Kochs from the start, I doubted she would have been so shocked by my comment. Actually, they probably wouldn’t have come at all.

  There were two big problems every king must face. The first problem was that of popularity. Even though a King had absolute authority, his ability to effectively rule could be seriously hampered if his popularity among his subjects was very low. The people’s opinion mattered, which was something I was coming to realize and respect more and more.

  The second issue was that of succession. In Starkland, we did not have queens. Only men could truly rule. It was antiquated and out of date, but it was the way things worked, and it had worked for thousands of years. At this point in Starkland’s history, we weren’t going to be changing the rules of succession.

  However, those rules could be a huge problem. If a king didn’t have a male heir to pass the crown down to, succession could get tricky. In the case of my brother, I was t
he clear successor since he didn’t have a son. But if I were to get killed, the country would be in anarchy.

  And so Lynette had found the Koch family. They happened to solve both of my problems in one neat, sexy little package named Bryce.

  Five hundred years ago or something like that, Bryce’s family had ruled Starkland. When the King died without a clear male heir, there was some major political battle for who would take over the throne. Eventually my family won out and Bryce’s family was tossed out of the country.

  They had been popular, though, and there was still a positive, lingering sentimental feeling about Bryce’s ancient royal forebears.

  And, of course, Bryce was a woman. She was capable of having children.

  Lynette’s plan was simple. We invite the Kochs out here and then we offer them a deal. If Bryce agreed to marry me, we’d set them up for life. They’d never have to worry about a thing ever again. We’d bring them into the aristocracy and all of their wants would be taken care of.

  A pretty damn good deal, if you asked me. All Bryce needed to do was marry me, and then I could get the benefits of her ancient family lineage plus the potential to put a male heir in her stomach.

  It all seemed so simple when we first talked about it. I wasn’t much interested in marrying a strange girl, but my control of the country needed a boost, and I couldn’t deny that a male heir would help a whole ton. I was willing to give it a shot, at least.

  It seemed easy, right up until Bryce slapped me across the face.

  I looked out the window at the city rolling by. It was my city, my favorite place in the world. I used to live in an apartment right downtown, and I could walk around the place just like anyone else. As it turned out, being the younger brother of the true heir meant nobody really cared much about me, which was just what I wanted.

  But now I was stuck in the castle, away from the city and the people I loved. Ruling was boring, but it was important. I wished I could go back to my old ways, but the country needed me. They needed me to step up and rule them as well as I possibly could.