Page 117 of Royal Daddy


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The Cardinal finished the recitation, handing the tiara to the king. He nodded and I kneeled as he placed the ornament on my head.

“Rise,” my father spoke. “Princess Ava Jensen, heir to the throne.”

As I looked out onto the crowd, now the heir to the kingdom, I swore that I’d make not just Mom, but everyone there, proud. And I’d never falter or forget who I was. That, before my subjects, I swore.

The End

I hope you enjoyed Ava and Luc’s love story. You can snag an exclusive epilogue one year into their future HERE.

The party isn’t over. Check out Daddy’s Obsession. This one includes a hot older man and a thrilling romance suspense that’ll keep you turning the pages. I’ve included a sneak peek of Daddy’s Obsession on the next page.

Daddy’s Obsession (Preview)

Stealing from the rich to feed the poor...

Has landed the innocent young beauty in realdanger.

Years agoIleft a life of danger behind,

But when I lock eyes with myold friend's daughter there was no turning back.

Raquelhas a magnetic beauty,

And the strength and resilience of a lioness.

The loss of my wife left my little girl and I empty.

Now Raquel is proof that even a monster can escape his own darkness.

Her stalker may be a feared predator

And now I'm hisworst nightmare.

But how am I supposed to guard her life...

When all I want is to claim every d*mninch of herfor myself?

Chapter 1

Raquel

BOOM!

The ceiling shatters and the walls crumble, burying me beneath thick dust, chunks of concrete, and splinters of glass. I hit my head hard against the cracked tile floor, unable to tell if the ringing in my ears is the building’s alarm system going off or if I’ve blown an eardrum.

Knowing my luck, probably both.

I suppose it serves me right for getting my hopes up. The gods of thievery are fickle bitches, and I’ve apparently done something to piss them off today. Months of planning —literally— up in smoke, and in under five seconds. I’ve probably just made the world record for fastest time for a heist to go tits up.

Somebody better call Guinness.

“Rocky!”

Dad’s voice reaches me, a muffle against the foggy haze clouding my mind. It’s too hard to concentrate, black encroaching on the edges of my vision. Which way is up, and which way is down? It’s anybody’s guess. I’m tempted to close my eyes and go to sleep, the crushing weight on my chest easy to succumb to, but a pair of strong hands pulls me out from beneath the rubble.

“Rocky? Talk to me.”

“What happened?” I croak. My throat is painfully dry and scratchy. I wonder if I accidentally breathed in some of the glass.

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