Praise for Royally Wed:
“This is the cheese to my crackers!!! I absolutely adore the characters in this book and where they are going. Every time I finished a page, I told myself I’d put it down and return to it later but I just couldn’t tear myself away from it… “ Jennifer Freeman
Ring the wedding bells, pour the champagne, and get thee to the cathedral for Royally Wed, the LOL sequel to Part-time Princess (Ladies-in-Waiting, #1)!
Lucy Trabbicio, former cocktail waitress and down-to-earth American commoner, is about to marry the man of her dreams, Prince Nicholas of Fredonia in the posh royal wedding of the year.
But something goes very wrong on the way to the altar. Now it’s up to Lucy, her party-hard, take-no-prisoners Ladies-in-Waiting, and Nick’s opinionated Royal Nana to solve the debacle, and get her back into sexy Prince Nick’s arms in time to be Royally Wed, as well as royally bed.
A modern day, sexy tale with romance, twists and turns, laughter, and a whole lot of hanky-panky!
I lay collapsed on my back, naked except for the tiara on my head. An ornate silver cheese platter rested on the bed next to me. “Hey, aren’t we supposed to be attending a surprise party tonight?” I fanned my face.
“No, Lucy.” Prince Nicholas Frederick Timmel of Fredonia picked up the tray and placed it on a nightstand. “But thanks for the appetizers.” He wrapped his muscular arms around me and squeezed me tight as he lay next to me—scratch that—for-the-most-part on top of me, on the king-size feather top bed. “We’ve attended back-to-back pre-wedding galas, cocktail parties, and family gatherings. Tonight is blessedly free. I think you’re simply exhausted from the jet lag and the time change.”
“You mean from our most recent round of toe-curling sex.” I pinched my forearm and reminded myself for the hundredth time that this was not a dream, nor had I been out boozing with my ladies-in-waiting.
“Ow!” Nick said. “You need to be nicer to HRH if you want him to make another royal appearance.”
Oops—that wasn’t my forearm.
“Sorry! I totally thought you were kidding when you told me your—I mean—the little prince’s nickname.” In a former life, I was a cocktail waitress. Now I was engaged to a real Prince, he of the black hair, the blue eyes, and the remarkable royal jewels. How could this be?
“I would never kid about HRH,” Nick said. “He can be overly-sensitive.”
“An admirable trait,” I said. “I don’t know, Nick. I distinctly remember an invitation that mentioned a surprise party. There was a photo of a woman’s finger pressed over her lips and the word ‘Shh!’ was engraved in big black letters on the cover.”
“No, Lucy. You’re remembering that time a few months ago when we visited the Viking Museum in Oslo.” He snuggled his five o’clock scruffy shadow into my cheek and nibbled on my ear. “The docent went out of her way to publicly admonish us.”
“You mean the cranky woman whose face resembled a pickle when she said ‘Shh!’ and told us to ‘cease our boisterous laughter?’”
“The very same,” he said. “I still remember her warm spittle striking my cheek when she uttered the words, ‘Hold opp!’ Emphasis on the hard d and ps.”
“Docent Marte,” I said. “Was she the one who was upset that we were kissing in public?”
“Kissing?” He waggled his eyebrows. “She complained that I was fondling your—”
“Right,” I said and mimicked Docent Marte’s outraged alto voice, complete with her thick accent. “‘Only women who are BREASTFEEDING are allowed to go TOPLESS in the Royal Viking Museum!’ Jeez! I was totally not topless.”
Nick smiled. “Well sweetie, you kind of were—”
“A nipple slip is technically not topless. I think she was jealous. You had your haircut that week, Nick, and you looked exceptionally handsome. Very rugged. Very royal.”
Royally Wed © 2016 Pamela DuMond