by Joy Penny
A spotlight hit the royal chamber doors and Lilac wondered that she hadn’t passed whoever had been preparing to step out while she’d been on her way out, but she had been focused on her phone.
The royal couple stepped out, hand in hand, their Tildy Scout caretakers to either side of them. Eddie stood with Queen Animaliao—Lilac recognized the queen as Cheryl—and DeShawn was with Prince Beastly.
But if Eddie and DeShawn are the caretakers, who…?
Lilac’s mouth dropped open. Nolan was Prince Beastly.
Nolan was a literal cotton-pickin’ prince.
Well, not a literal one.
Angie slid in beside her, her arm still wrapped around Silly’s wing. “Surprise!” she said, grinning. “He asked me to make you think nothing was out of the ordinary.”
“Who’s in there then?” asked Lilac, staring Silly down. No wonder he’d seemed off.
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Angie, a finger tapping the side of her nose. “This is Silly Sandgrouse.” She guided her fluffy mascot off toward the crowd of kids gathering to greet the royal couple.
Nolan looked hot as Prince Beastly. So elegant, so regal… So sophisticated. Not at all like the sweet and down-to-earth silly goof she knew him to be. But he looked like something from her dreams—her old dreams of what a happy future might look like. The voluminous blonde wig was smoother than his usual shaggy hair and made him look older.
He locked eyes with her and grinned. “A moment, please, my lady,” he said to Cheryl, bringing her gloved hands to his lips, then quickly dropping them so she could wrap a waiting child in a half-embrace.
Prince Beastly tapped the shoulders of kids shouting out his name as he made his way across the ballroom floor. Lilac stood there, shell-shocked, as he approached and Nolan grabbed for her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “My lady tells me we have you to thank for this evening of merriment,” he said, every syllable resounding. Lilac had never heard him speak in character—any character—before.
Lilac tried not to laugh. “A gift for my queen and her consort,” she said. “And the many children and animals who live in her lands.”
Prince Beastly moved her hand to the side and wrapped his other hand around her waist. Lilac worried about the kids seeing him dance with anyone but the queen, but she was taking pictures now. DeShawn was staring straight at them, nodding.
“Looks like the prince has begun the dance!” he shouted, looking over his shoulders to get the kids excited. He twirled his hand above him as if holding a lasso and within ten seconds, the music started once more. “Let’s dance!” Willow and Bev appeared beside him, Bev taking DeShawn’s and Willow’s hands in hers. Lilac quickly took note of the resemblance between Nolan’s supervisor and Willow’s little friend.
Kids all over the Ballroom started shimmying and as Prince Beastly whirled her around the room, Lilac caught sight of Landon dancing with Tanya and some other boys near the craft table.
“When did you learn to dance?” asked Lilac, amazed at how light on his feet Nolan was.
“My mother and father had me instructed,” he said, his voice still halting and stiff. “As a mere lad. In anticipation of my royal courtship.”
Chuckling, Lilac resisted the urge to put her cheek to his. The kids were dancing, but she wouldn’t risk any of them catching sight of Prince Beastly making romantic gestures to another woman. Still, she chanced a small movement to lean her lips closer to his ear.
“You know you’re going to have to take me dancing again now,” she said. “This time without this costume between us.”
Nolan’s lips twitched just slightly. “Prince Beastly doesn’t dance in the nude,” he said, his voice low.
Lilac snickered. That wasn’t what she’d meant and he knew it.
“But Nolan Gregosky does,” he said, his voice no more than a whisper.
Continue to Stay in Touch
Touch of Fondness, Stay in Touch (Book 1), Publication Date: 5/2/2017
Four friends. Four college grads. Four people figuring out that life doesn’t always turn out the way you expected.
Brielle Reyes may not have post-college life planned out like some of her friends do, but she figures she’ll work for her mother’s home cleaning service while job hunting for something that makes use of her history and philosophy degrees. It’ll work out as long as she doesn’t fall in love. Her last relationship was a disaster and she has no idea where she’ll be in a few weeks, let alone the rest of her life. Since the only guy in her age range she sees now on a regular basis is cantankerous if handsome client Archer Ward, she probably won’t have a hard time sticking to that vow. Probably.
Archer Ward likes very few things: illustrating as a somewhat-celebrated comic artist and his privacy. When his meddling mother hires him a cleaning service on an almost daily basis because she doesn’t fully trust her son to live on his own with his disability, he’s at first annoyed—even if his house cleaner is the most beautiful woman he’s ever spent more than a few minutes with. When he realizes her dreams may take her far outside of his restricted orbit, he has to decide whether to stifle his interest in her or risk messing up her plans to explore if there’s something more between them.
Neither can deny they’re growing a little fond of each other, even if falling in love just now makes no sense whatsoever. But how often does love ever make perfect sense?
Add to your Goodreads list or order now on Amazon! Free on Kindle Unlimited.
Look for Stay in Touch Book 3 (Touch of Comfort, Gavin's story) and Stay in Touch Book 4 (Touch of Romance, Pembroke's story) in 2018
About the Author
Joy Penny writes books, devours stories, and geeks out about everything from classic romance books to manga. When she’s not working as a freelance writer and book editor, she’s probably immersed in her favorite TV shows, period dramas, and anime series. She also writes YA speculative fiction as Amy McNulty, and one of her books, Nobody’s Goddess, won The Romance Reviews’ Summer 2016 Readers’ Choice Award for Young Adult Romance.
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Website: http://joypenny.wordpress.com
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Look for More Romance Reads from Snowy Wings Publishing
All It Takes is one night to change the rest of their lives.
Graduating Uni, travelling Europe and buying her own place – these are on Megan Green’s to-do list. At just twenty-two, becoming a mother isn’t.
Fast cars, expensive clothes and bedding a different woman every night – this is how Kian Murphy spends his time when not in the MMA ring. Prenatal scans and birthing classes are not on his agenda.
After a chance meeting and passionate encounter, Megan finds herself pregnant with Kian’s child. But with a womanizing reputation and a temper that often leads him into trouble, Kian is hardly boyfriend material, let alone father material.
Now Megan and Kian must work out if they have All It Takes to turn their one-night stand into a relationship that will connect them for a lifetime.
All It Takes is a dual-POV new adult, contemporary romance about responsibility, love and discovering who you are in life.
Available on Kindle.
With the theater festival behind her and graduation around the corner, Grizz Sheridan figured she was done with Kurt Minola. She wants to focus on spending time with her friends and enjoying her last summer before she goes off to college.
No such luck now that Kurt’s crushing on her best friend (and his twin brother’s girlfriend), Patricia. It seems like he’s glued to her side no matter where she goes—class, parties, even Prom.
Grizz thinks her luck is changing when she begins working at Merry Mule Coffee Roasters and meets super hottie, Dimitri. That is, until a certain surfer boy starts working there, too—and suddenly seems to have turned his romantic interests elsewhere�
�
Will Grizz survive the summer?
Available now on Kindle Unlimited.
A Love for the Pages Chapter One Preview
I just stepped off the train this morning, and already by the afternoon I’m a soccer mom. Well, the ‘game’ is track and field, not soccer, and Mom sold the Caravan while I was gone and replaced it with this compact sedan, but it’s basically the same thing. I’m sitting here in the car parked with four vans one way and three vans the other, just another woman here to pick up her kid. Okay, my brother isn’t ‘my kid,’ either. I’m a track and field sister, not a soccer mom. The point is, I’m already counting the days until summer is over. Huh. Never thought I’d say that. At least I didn’t before college, anyway.
I get a glance every few seconds through the space between two bleachers of one scrawny high schooler after the other stumbling across the track, his arms scrunched against his chest, his mouth open in probably stilted breaths. If pressed to admit it, such a sight used to excite me. Now they all seem like little boys. I unscrew the bottle cap on my lemon tea and take a swig with one hand, rifling through my purse with the other. I find what I’m looking for and slip the well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice onto my lap. I open it one-handed to the page with the most recently bent corner, the book flopping open easily thanks to the wrinkles of the multiple creases peppering the spine. I take another drink, my gaze hitting the corner of my Kindle case sticking out of my purse on the passenger seat. A hundred e-books and counting, and one of my three beat-to-a-pulp favorites are almost always in my hand in those moments between doing something and doing something else. “Now maybe you can get rid of the books taking up all that space in your room.” Mom beamed as she handed me the graduation gift—it was definitely thoughtful of her. Surprisingly thoughtful. Until Mr. Wonderful opened his mouth and revealed it was less about celebrating my interests and more about being practical, as usual. “You can’t bring a bookshelf to a dorm. You’re going to share the space with someone new, and it’s rude to bring a bunch of junk that’ll just take up space.” Cooper always seemed to forget I was rooming with Deana. Still, he had a point. The books stayed behind mostly. Except for the three books practically starting to disintegrate.
There’s a pounding at my window. I jump, sloshing the open tea bottle all over my lap—all over my book. I scream and am rewarded with muffled laughter. I slam the bottle into the cup holder and am ready to shoot Owen my most ‘you’re moronic’ look and immediately feel my face flush as I come face-to-face with Sinjin through the driver’s side window. I look away quickly, like staring at the steering wheel and ignoring the drops of tea on my lap will make the whole situation disappear. There’s more laughter from the other side of the car and more pounding, too. I just keep staring ahead.
“Open up!”
I snap out of it, flicking the unlock button on my side and crossing my arms as Owen opens the back passenger door and tosses his filthy gym bag onto the back seat. I can’t bring myself to look to see if Sinjin is still standing there, but even so, I feel this presence, like the shivers running down my spine are my own Spidey sense warning me, “He’s here. He’s here. Don’t make a fool of yourself.”
Too late for that.
“Yo, earth to Spoon! Guess you killed her, SJ.” I hate when Owen calls him that. I hate when Owen calls me Spoon. No one else needs to turn every name on the planet into something new.
My own personal your-ex-boyfriend-okay-you-just-went-to-three-dances-together-and-never-officially-became-an-item-so-is-that-really-an-ex-boyfriend-is-nearby Spidey sense relaxes—and where exactly was that superpower before he pounded on the car window?—and I breathe a sigh of relief. I suddenly remember my wounded (paperback) warrior on my lap and scramble for the Kleenex box on the floor behind the seat, grabbing one tissue after another in painstaking single serve doses, and I look up just in time to see Sinjin bumping his fist against Owen’s shoulder, laughing, smiling that chiseled Greek-god smile that lights up his gorgeous dark skin, and I freeze again.
“Hey, how’s it going, June?” Sinjin runs a hand through his short black hair and speaks to me casually, as if we see each other regularly, even though we haven’t seen each other for months—that little blip over Spring Break while hanging with Margot and Deana hardly counts. His tone gives no indication I’m a laughing stock for falling head over heels at first sight with my best friends’ brother. My best friends’ younger brother. My best friends’ he-was-a-freshman-and-I-was-a-junior-the-first-time-I-saw-him-but-how-was-I-to-know-since-he-just-transferred-in younger brother.
I will my hand to finish pulling the fifth tissue out of the box and add it to the crumpled wad forming in my fist. “Great,” I lie, mumbling.
Owen finds this hilarious. But Owen finds most things to do with me hilarious. I’m so glad to see the last few weeks haven’t changed him. As if somehow when I felt like I’d aged a decade as I was cramming like mad for finals and writing half a dozen papers, the world would have also progressed a dozen years and I could look forward to finding a far more mature brother when I got home for more than the occasional weekend visit. No such luck.
Sinjin walks away, and I twist myself back into my seat and dab my book and lap with the tissues. Okay, good. Bye. Take your Greek-god smile and your smooth, silky, gorgeous jet black hair to some other hapless victim.
The passenger door opens beside me. “I’m sorry about that.” Sinjin pokes his head in. I cringe and do my best to smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You just didn’t notice us beside the car. Here, let me—” He scoops my purse up and lays it on the dashboard, climbing onto the seat. His fingers disappear around his side as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small washcloth.
I know what my Spidey sense should tell me. An athlete’s hand towel. Probably used for mopping up sweat. About fifteen kinds of oh-my-god-gross. But Sinjin’s hand is on my thigh, dabbing the tea stains as casually as if the liquid had spilled on the floor or on the seat. His palm lingers on my thigh—true, there’s my pant leg and the washcloth between his skin and mine—but dear lord, his hand is on my thigh and I just about meld with the upholstery. He reaches his other hand out. “Let me.”
I don’t know what he wants—I almost hand him my wad of tissues—when he grabs the book from my hand. He raises his eyebrows. “You’ve got Kleenex on your book.” He removes his hand and washcloth from my thigh and dabs at the book with it instead. “I’m so sorry.” I don’t bother telling him the book has already been soaked a time or two in the bathtub and there’s no more damage that little tea spill could really have done to it. I just watch him at work, like a doctor and his patient, treating each wrinkled page with as much care as if it were made of silk.
“Wow.” Owen slides into the back seat and shuts the door. “You’re about thirty shades of red right now, June. What you’re thinking is probably illegal in forty-eight states.”
I don’t bother asking where he came up with that number. I don’t bother pointing out that at nineteen, there’s probably some leniency for me to be fantasizing about a seventeen-year-old I used to sort of date. Instead I snort and grip the steering wheel, trying to fluff it off like the ribbing it’s meant to be. “If you’re guessing I’m thinking about murdering you right now for trying to embarrass me, I’d have to point out that’s illegal in all fifty states.”
The freeze in my spine lessens a bit as Sinjin shifts backward to exchange a look with Owen. They chuckle. “Finals didn’t happen to give you a nervous breakdown, did they, June?” asks Sinjin.
“No, but seeing this place again almost did.” I gesture at the bleachers and the two-story-brick-nightmare that is the high school I spent four years at far behind the field and the baseball diamond. I bite my lip as I look over. It’s not so nightmare-inducing when I no longer have to spend my days there. At least back then, I didn’t have to worry about so much. I didn’t have to worry about practically anything. I smile awkwardly at Sinjin. “Thanks,” I say reaching my
hand out for the book. “That’s, uh, good enough. It’s nice seeing you.”
“Oo, shot down, SJ. Shot down.” Owen taps his palms against the back of the passenger seat. “But just as well. This whole sister-slash-best-friend thing has always kind of creeped me out.”
I clear my throat. “There was no sister-slash-best-friend thing, Owen.”
I can’t help but notice Sinjin stiffen just a little out of the corner of my eye.
Owen reaches up to pat him on the shoulder. “College boys, SJ. No competing with them. Not when they’re just a hallway away.”
“There were no college boys,” I hiss. I turn around to face him, not sure whether to throttle my little brother or just play it cool by not assaulting him despite the ever-present desire to do so. A lecture about how much work college actually is—well, for some of us anyway, those of us who just don’t have time to date and mess around—is forming on my tongue when my purse starts shaking on the dashboard. I shut my mouth and hope my eyes are enough to convey the world of hurt Owen just escaped. I toss the book atop the dashboard and scramble for the purse, my hand resting on Sinjin’s as he reaches at the same moment. We smile at one another like we’d just been caught doing something very wrong and I let go so he can pass me the purse.
“Thanks,” I squeak, my voice hardly registering the calm and confidence I meant for it to. I fumble inside and pull out my phone to read the all-important text waiting there: WHR R U 2? DINNER and what’s probably a frosty, shivering emoticon but looks more like a blue blob of water. It likely took Mom twice as long to compose that text as it did for her to make dinner.
