When Princess Caroline of Drieden of the Royal House Laurent eloped with a race car driver, she forfeited her royal title and her family.

Now a widow and exiled from Drieden, Caroline is working as a journalist, writing exposes under a pen name. When, one day, she catches sight of her sister Thea's ex-fiancé, she's stunned - Christian is supposed to be dead. Here could be the scoop of the century.

But Caroline's plans to uncover Christian's deception are foiled by the arrival of Hugh Konnor - her former bodyguard and Caroline's first - unrequited - love. When Hugh stubbornly refuses to leave her side, Caroline can't deny they make a good team.

As they unravel a web of deception that could bring down the House of Laurent, Caroline must decide how far she's willing to go to protect a family she feels deserted her - and whether the man who swore to guard her body can safely hold her heart.

Excerpt

“Hello, Mother.”

She hadn’t aged a day in the last fifteen years, thanks to the best surgeons and dermatologists in the world. Her blonde curls framed her face in an artfully youthful way, her clothes were feminine and sporty. My mother, Felice, the Duchess of Montaget, everyone.

She lit up. But she always lit up. “Indefatigably perky,” a news reporter once called her. “Caroline! My angel!” She reached for me, pulled me into her thin embrace. “My doll, just look at you.” Her fingers smushed my cheeks. “You’ve gained … no. Lost weight. No.” She cocked her head. “Have you stayed the same? After all the soap opera of the past year?” She tutted. “To stay in such control, in the face of heartache and drama! Oh, don’t tell me, are you your father’s daughter after all?” Her laugh tinkled through the air like the chinking of champagne flutes. The idea clearly seemed ridiculous, that I might exhibit characteristics of my paternal DNA, rather than my maternal genes.

“How are you, Mother?” I asked, partially to distract her, partially because I truly wanted to know. We hadn’t seen each other since Thea’s aborted wedding weekend and we all knew how insane that had been, trying to put the right faces on in the middle of a royal crisis.

Felice rolled her eyes. “Wonderful, naturally. Everything is simply divine. I was at the Beyoncé concert in The Hague last week.”

“You were?” I asked politely, even though of course she was.

Her fingers brushed my arm. “Backstage with old Tommy. You know what fun that can be.”

I had no idea who old Tommy was.

“And then the afterparty.” Her tinkling laugh again. “You’ll never guess who we ran into.”

“Beyoncé?” I asked.

“No.”

“Elton John?”

“My God, no. Caroline, do be serious. Why on earth would I tell you a story about Sir Elton in the Hague?”

Right. Silly, silly me. “Who did you run into?” I asked patiently.

“Henry!” She half screamed with delight. “Didn’t you know?” I shook my head. I hadn’t spoken to my twin brother since my elopement, either. He had offered to fly to Monaco and walk me down the aisle. I declined because I hadn’t wanted him to also incur the wrath of our Queen. One of us was enough.

Felice continued, “Oh my, I had never felt so old. My own son, at the Beyoncé afterparty, with a pretty little thing on his arm. A barely dressed American actress, I believe, but is there any other kind? I swear, they’re crossing the Atlantic in droves, all of them, hunting for a prince to marry. He looked dashing, of course, my sweet boy, and no one could believe I was his mother.” She lifted a self-conscious hand to her right cheek, as if testing its youthful elasticity.

“And now here we are,” she said as she grabbed my hands again. “Both shacked up in the Ilysium, royal outcasts like us. Two single, gorgeous women who know a thing or two, wouldn’t you say?”

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About the Author

As a Texan and recovering sorority girl, Lindsay Emory has strong opinions on "real" football (soccer, duh), wine (bubbles, please), and wearing white after Labor Day (just don't). Lindsay writes books with mystery and romance featuring cranky heroes and the sassy heroines who drive them crazy. She lives on the North Texas plains with two big dogs and her own cranky hero, drinking gimlets and raising two STEM warrior princesses.

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