by J. Kenner
There was the small problem of actually getting to Leo once she was in his country. She had a feeling that Americans weren’t allowed to just enter the palace and wander freely, but she still had Jürgen’s contact info. And unless Leo had told his friend and security chief that he never wanted to see Skye again, she had a feeling that Jürgen would help her. She hoped so, because without him her plan had some serious holes in it. She’d still go through with it, of course, but she’d have to come up with a Plan B.
At the moment, she was fresh out of Plan Bs.
That was something she’d worry about later, she thought as she stepped off the elevator at her father’s floor. She passed reception and headed toward his office, only to see his Mary’s head pop up, her eyes going wide as she saw Skye.
“Skye,” she said. “What a happy coincidence. Your father just asked me to track you down. He needs to see you in his office.”
“Oh.” She tried to think what he could possibly need, but nothing except the symposium came to mind. She grimaced. She’d hoped to entice one of the other associates into stepping into her shoes before she officially bailed, but so far she’d found no one willing to take the bait.
“Um, right,” Skye said. “So, should … I just go in?”
“Of course. He’s expecting you.”
She had a moment of panic—what if he freaked out when she told him her plan? But then she calmed. She was an adult. This was her life. And her dad was just going to have to support her.
She straightened her back, lifted her chin, and pushed his office door open, determined to be cool and confident.
She froze the moment she stepped over the threshold.
He was right there.
Leo.
Just sitting in one of her dad’s guest chairs in a bespoke suit, looking about as pulled together and sexy as a man could get.
She opened her mouth, shut it again, then looked at her dad. “What…?” But the word didn’t come out right at all. Instead, she just whimpered some sort of question-like sound.
“Skye,” Leo said, then stood. “Oh, God, Skye.”
“His, ah, His Majesty has something to discuss with you,” her father said, and in her crazed bewilderment, Skye almost laughed. Because when in his life had Tarlton Anderson Porter ever been befuddled?
“I’m here to hire the firm,” Leo said, his eyes on Skye.
“Hire?” Her brain wasn’t firing right at the moment.
“The palace would like to engage our services to consult with them on amending their constitution,” her father said.
Slowly, the words gathered meaning. “I’m sorry. What?”
“His Majesty has requested that the associate with the most expertise accompany him back to his country to work with his team in-house at the palace.”
She swallowed, unable to take her eyes off of Leo. “Has he?”
“He has,” Leo said. “We’ve been thinking many things, actually.”
Her brows rose. “The royal we? Are you serious?”
“Skye!” Her father’s admonition filled the room, and Skye laughed. So did Jürgen, whom she noticed by the bookcase for the first time. She glanced his way, caught his wink, and realized that the world was full of sunshine.
In front of her, Leo laughed. “Just checking. I’ve been thinking a lot of things.”
“Have you?” Her voice sounded so hoarse.
He nodded toward Jürgen, who moved toward Skye’s father, then whispered something. A moment later, her father caught her eye, then stepped out of the room along with the bodyguard.
She swallowed, feeling suddenly nervous. “So … um … what have you been thinking?”
“That I want you there with me, for one. That amending the constitution is a long process, and that you are uniquely qualified to help.”
“I see.”
“If you accept the position, you’ll work with the palace legal staff—they all speak English, by the way. And when your team is ready, we’ll present the amendment. If it passes, I will abdicate the throne, serving instead as both prince and science minister.”
She nodded slowly, taking it all in.
Leo stood, then walked toward her. He reached out, and took her hands, and the touch of his skin against hers felt like coming home. “And, though you may not realize it,” he said softly, “while the king’s choices are limited, a prince can marry anyone. Even an American lawyer.”
“Wow,” she said. “You folks have … no standards at all.”
“None,” he said, and they shared a smile.
“And if the amendment doesn’t pass?”
His hands tightened on hers, as if he had to hold fast against negative thinking.
“I believe it will,” he said. “But if it doesn’t, I won’t shirk my responsibility. But as you may know, the king can marry a citizen. And it’s an interesting fact that a foreigner can apply for citizenship after three years.”
Her chest constricted, her skin suddenly going warm. “Is that so?”
“There’s one more thing.”
She swallowed. “I’m not sure I can take more.” It was the truth. She was ridiculously overwhelmed.
“I’ll risk it,” he said, then lowered himself to one knee as she gasped, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest.
“It turns out there is no prohibition on the king being engaged to a non-citizen. And so my darling Skye, would you do me the greatest honor and agree to marry me?”
“I—”
“It’s a public life,” he interrupted. “There will be speeches. State dinners. Radio addresses. But you will never be alone, and I promise the people will love you.”
She didn’t realize she was crying until she tasted the tears. Then all she could do was nod. “Stop trying to convince me or scare me, Leo. The answer is yes.” She fell to her knees in front of him, then lost herself in his embrace.
Epilogue
Almost three years later
Princess Skye, Countess of Stahl, stood beside her husband, the former King of Avelle-am-see and its current Minister of Science. They were waiting to go inside the cathedral to take their place for Gisele’s coronation.
Gisele had been ruling the small country for the last seven months since Leo had abdicated the throne the day after the constitutional amendment had been ratified. Her ascension had been a quiet affair. Today’s official coronation was all about the pomp and circumstance.
“Do you regret not being Queen?” he teased.
Leo had ruled for almost two years, the time it had taken to get the amendment ratified. He and Skye had been married seventy-two hours after he’d abdicated the throne. He’d been a popular ruler, and Skye had been shocked by her own popularity as well, both in this small country and back at home. She’d avoided public speaking as much as possible, but when she did speak, she’d had nothing but support. And when Leo had announced that he would abdicate so that his older sister could rule and so that he could marry the woman he loved, the people had cheered for him, Gisele, and Skye herself.
The foundation she’d started to help children with speech impairments was now active internationally, and Leo had made significant headway in expanding the physics department at the country’s prestigious university.
Best of all, Skye was now two months pregnant, and Gisele was already planning how they would announce the impending birth of a little prince or princess to the world. A child who, if Gisele chose not to marry, might one day sit on the throne.
Now, Skye sighed happily. “What’s to regret?” she asked as she leaned into Leo’s embrace. “After all … I got to live the … fairy tale. And,” she added, “there really is … a happily ever after.”
THE END
I hope you enjoyed the story! You can read Griffin and Bev’s story in Light My Fire. And don’t miss Hannah and Matthew in In Too Deep!
About the Man of the Month series
Who’s Your Man of the Month?
When a group of fiercely determined frie
nds realize their beloved hang-out is in danger of closing, they take matters into their own hands to bring back customers lost to a competing bar. Fighting fire with a heat of their own, they double down with the broad shoulders, six-pack abs, and bare chests of dozens of hot, local guys who they cajole, prod, and coerce into auditioning for a Man of the Month calendar.
But it’s not just the fate of the bar that’s at stake. Because as things heat up, each of the men meets his match in this sexy, flirty, and compelling binge-read romance series from New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner.
* * *
"With each novel featuring a favorite romance trope—beauty and the beast, billionaire bad boys, friends to lovers, second chance romance, secret baby, and more—[the Man of the Month] series hits the heart and soul of romance." New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips
* * *
Each book in the series is a STANDALONE novel with NO cliffhanger and a guaranteed HEA!
But even so, you won’t want to miss any in the series. Because then you can answer the question…
Who’s Your Man of the Month?
Down On Me
Hold On Tight
Need You Now
Start Me Up
Get It On
In Your Eyes
Turn Me On
Shake It Up
All Night Long
In Too Deep
Light My Fire
Walk The Line
* * *
BONUS BOOKS:
Royal Cocktail
Bar Bites: A Man of the Month Cookbook
* * *
Visit manofthemonthbooks.com to learn more!
Here’s a handy list of the books in the series with each story’s primary trope!
Down On Me
meet Reece
(friends to lovers)
Hold On Tight
meet Spencer
(second chance romance)
Need You Now
meet Cameron
(best friend’s sister)
Start Me Up
meet Nolan
(opposites attract)
Get It On
meet Tyree
(second chance romance)
In Your Eyes
meet Parker
(billionaire romance)
Turn Me On
meet Derek
(one-night stand)
Shake It Up
meet Landon
(woman in jeopardy/interracial)
All Night Long
meet Easton
(good guy meets bad girl)
In Too Deep
meet Matthew
(opposites attract/fake engagement)
Light My Fire
meet Griffin
(beauty and the beast)
Walk The Line
meet Brent
(single dad/interracial)
Royal Cocktail (bonus book)
Meet Leo
(reluctant royal)
*Bar Bites: A Man of the Month Cookbook
(by J. Kenner & Suzanne M. Johnson)
Lovely Little Liar: Chapters 1-2
I’ve always loved hero-driven rom coms, especially when the guy is an alpha-hole with a bit of a marshmallow thrown in! I had such fun writing this story; I hope you enjoy the peek!
1
I don’t believe in relationships, but I do believe in fucking.
Why, you ask? Hell, I could write a book. The Guy’s Guide to Financial, Emotional, and Business Success. But honestly, why bother with a book when the thesis boils down to just four words: Don’t Date. Just Fuck.
Hear me out.
Relationships take time, and when you’re trying to build a business, you need to pour every spare hour into the work. Trust me on this. In the months since my buddies and I launched Blackwell-Lyon Security, we’ve been busting ass twenty-four/seven. Working assignments, taking meetings, building a rock solid client base.
And our commitment’s paying off. I promise you our roster wouldn’t be half as full as it is now if I was spending chunks of prime working time answering texts from an insecure girlfriend who was wondering why I wasn’t sexting every ten minutes. So skip the dating and watch your business flourish.
Plus, hook-ups don’t expect gifts or flowers. Drinks or dinner, maybe, but a guy’s gotta eat anyway, right? There may be no such thing as a free lunch, but you can come close to a free fuck.
But it’s the emotional upside that’s the kicker for me. No walking on eggshells because she’s in a bitchy mood. No feeling trapped when she demands to know why poker night was more appealing than watching the latest tearjerker starring some tanned metrosexual sporting a man bun. No wondering if she’s banging another guy when she’s not answering her texts.
And definitely no falling into a deep, dark pit of gloom when she breaks your engagement two weeks before the wedding because she’s not sure she loves you after all.
And no, I’m not bitter. Not anymore.
But I am practical.
The truth is, I like women. The way they laugh. The way they feel. The way they smell.
I get off on making a woman feel good. On making her shatter in my arms and then beg for more.
Like them, yes. But I don’t trust them. And I’m not getting fucked over again.
Not like that, anyway.
So there you go. Q.E.D.
I don’t do relationships. I do hook-ups. I make it my mission to give every woman who shares my bed the ride of her life.
But it’s a one-way street, and I don’t go back.
That’s just the way I roll. I walked away from relationships a long time ago.
So as I pull up in front of Thyme, the trendy new restaurant in Austin’s upscale Tarrytown neighborhood, and hand the valet my keys, all I’m expecting is business as usual. Some causal flirting. A few appetizers. A solid buzz from a little too much liquor. And then a quick jaunt back to my downtown condo for some mid-week action.
What I get instead, is her.
2
“Well, then, I need you to make an announcement.” The leggy brunette’s voice belongs to a woman used to giving orders. “He must be here by now.”
Legs is standing in front of me at the hostess stand, her back turned so that all I can see is a mass of chestnut brown waves, a waist small enough for a man to grab onto, and an ass that was made to fill out a skirt. In front of her, a petite blonde clutches a stack of menus like a lifeline as she gnaws on her lower lip.
“Well?” Legs’ voice is more demand than question.
While the hostess explains to Legs that the restaurant really isn’t set up for announcements, I glance at my watch impatiently. The traffic on Sixth Street had been more of a bitch than usual, and I’m running five minutes late. An irritating reality considering that I’m habitually prompt, a remnant from my military days. I’ll cop to a lot of vices, but tardiness isn’t among them.
Legs, however, is going to make me even later, and I frown as I glance toward the bar area to my left, looking for any unaccompanied woman who might be “J” from the 2Nite app. But there’s no one sitting alone who looks like she’s waiting for “PB” to join her.
It’s my first time using this particular app, and its schtick—because they all have a schtick—is that all contact is anonymous until you actually meet your date. That’s fine and dandy, but it makes connecting difficult. After all, would she really have left her name as J at the hostess desk? Because I’m going to feel like an idiot if I have to call myself PB.
Then again, I’ll be lucky to have the chance to call myself anything at all, because Legs is spending so much time harassing the hostess that the restaurant will be closed before I can ask about J or claim a table.
“—except I already told you that I don’t have his name,” Legs is saying as I tune back into their conversation. The corporate warrior tone has faded, replaced by frustration and, I think, disappointment.
As for the hostess, she now looks eve
n more frazzled.
“All I know is that he works for a security company—”
Ding, ding, ding. Folks, we have a winner.
“—and he should already be here.”
“J,” I say confidently, stepping up beside her. “I’m Pierce Blackwell.” I pull a business card from my wallet and hand it to her when she turns to face me.
“Of Blackwell-Lyon Security. PB,” I add, just in case that’s not absolutely clear. “I’m very happy to meet you in person.”
And that, frankly, is one hundred percent true. Because while the rear view might be amazing, from the front, my date for the night is even more stunning. Her dark hair frames a pale face with skin so perfect I have to force myself not to reach out and stroke her cheek. She has a wide mouth that was built for naughty things, and the kind of curvaceous body that lets a man know he has a real woman in his arms.
“Oh.” Her voice is a little startled, and her amber eyes are wide with surprise. She’s dropped the stern tone she’d used with the hostess, and I see relief in her eyes. I guess she thought I was going to stand her up, despite the fact that she doesn’t look like the kind of woman who gets stood up often.
And her obvious relief that I’ve arrived suggests a vulnerability I wouldn’t have guessed from listening to her interrogate the hostess.
