Me and my BFF Prince Charles by Jenny Gardiner

Hi!
Wanted to share with you a post I put up after William and Kate married---seemed good timing after the lovely royal wedding we all got to enjoy yesterday from our sofas! Wasn't it a beautiful, beautiful day? So happy for them both. Anyhow, here's a story about my encounter with Prince Charles (back when he didn't look so darned old!):

Watching the royal wedding brought back memories from long ago, my one and only brush with royalty…

It was 1990, I was pregnant with my first child. I was working as a photographer in Washington, DC and my husband and I had gone to Florida for a business trip he had to take. A few months earlier, I'd contacted the British Embassy after having read about an upcoming garden party; I figured any self-respecting garden party would need a photographer so I pitched my services.

The charming press person at the time politely told me they had a photographer but would take my name for future events, should they arise. I figured that was the last I would hear from them.

Fast forward a few months later, to a dingy hotel room in Bradenton, Florida. My husband had to attend a carnival trade show because a product his company produced was being knocked off and used as carny prizes. He'd hoped to persuade those attending the show to buy the legitimate product, rather than ripping his company off. 

Now, if you've ever gone to a carnival, you can probably conjure up images of your average carny type: Seedy-looking men, missing and rotting teeth, grizzled faces. There's usually an all-around feel of felons-freshly-sprung-from-prison about the place, coupled with the aroma of years-old trans-fat sizzling away in vats awaiting a plunge from a 1000-calorie corn dog or maybe a fried twinkle, perhaps a grease-sopped funnel cake if you're lucky. 

Well, the difference between a carnival and a carnival trade show (at least 20-some years ago) is simply that the grease isn't as old. Same creepy people, same vile food, same crappy products. So we were coming off a relaxing day amidst the seedier element of society, and were relaxing at the hotel when I decided to check our voice mail.

Back then we'd only recently gotten an answering machine. I know this sounds crazy, but they were newfangled devices then. Technologically-stunted as I've always been, I'd barely figured out how to check our messages on the thing before we left for our trip. And while gone, one morning before embarking on our carnival trade show expedition, I called home to see if we had any messages. Which was when I heard the voice mail from a Gareth So-and-So from the British Embassy, asking if I was interested in an upcoming event. He needed an answer immediately.

Of course I called back pronto. Remember, there were no cell phones back then. Wait, there were. When I worked on Capitol Hill in the 80's I'd gone to a hair salon near the White House and remember seeing an Important Looking Man lugging a small suitcase in one hand, holding a phone receiver attached to the suitcase by a long coiled cord, with the other. This was back when we had rooms devoted to "mainframes" to operate computers in offices. How far we've come in so short a time…) But making long-distance calls from anywhere other than home was a cumbersome process back then: using a calling card, you had to dial about 70 numbers without screwing up the number sequence and then get connected to some remote operator or bell tones, enter in another 20 digits and maybe then you'd be connected to your number. Amazingly I dialed through successfully, and got hold of Gareth before he'd found another photographer. 

"Hallo," he said to me in a gorgeous clipped British accent. I don't care what one looks like, when you speak with that accent it erases all flaws instantly. I swooned over the phone. In a professional manner, of course. 

"I have a job you might be interested in," Gareth told me. I figured maybe another garden party, one of those things where women wear silly hats (Princes Beatrice, anyone?)

"His Royal Highness will be coming to Washington and there are several events for which we need a photographer."

I tried hard to maintain my composure and not choke. His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales. Needed me. Prince Charles, then the celebrated man of the hour, considered studly despite his jug ears (and yes, they are quite juggy). They needed me, humble and pregnant me, to shoot Prince Charles (with a camera of course). 

I tried to remain cool, as if often I was invited to be the official photographer of the most famous royal (next to his then-wife Princess Diana). 

I told Gareth I needed to check my schedule, and pretended to leaf through my sad-sack calendar, the dinky 4" x 4" ones you used to get for free at the Hallmark store (yep, electronic calendars were years away). And of course I instantly jumped at the chance, no doubt appearing pathetically excited and simpering about the prospect of this brush with British royalty.

I was, as I said, pregnant. At that time speculation abounded that Diana and Charles were going for a girl, and rumors were running amok that she was indeed pregnant. I pondered drumming up some small talk with Chuck about his pregnant wife (a presumptuous leap on my part), what with us having so much in common, I knew we were bound to be BFFs. Fortunately I opted out of that tack. Because it wasn't long after that that we all learned that Charles had been clandestinely telling his extramarital fling Camilla he yearned to be her tampon or maxi pad or something equally abhorrent. Clearly he wouldn't have been keen dishing on Di with me when he was fantasizing about being inside Camilla's knickers (literally). 

My husband never once wanted to come along on my photo shoots (particularly the dull ones, like the American Institute of CPAs; can't blame him, though those CPAs were a lovely group). Even my Liz Taylor shoot he shunned. But he jumped at the chance to be my assistant for the royal visit.

Prior  to undertaking the job, we got a mini-lesson on dealing with the Prince--i.e. avoid dealing with the Prince. No handshaking, speak to him only when spoken to, that sort of thing. 

I was told the Prince always had a group photo taken with his equerry staff (the cadre of helpers who travel with him everywhere to be sure someone puts the toothpaste on his toothbrush, I guess). So we assembled the group amidst the splendor of the British Embassy, an elegant building filled with stunning artwork. We had the men lined up in two rows, some seated, some standing. 

"I need all of the men seated to place your hands in your laps," I instructed them. 

"Your own laps," my able-bodied spouse interjected, to the horror of the embassy staff. 

For a minute, I waited for someone to run up and tell us we were fired from the job. But then Charles placed his hand over his mouth and…laughed. It was a very royal sounding laugh, a ha-ha-ha rather than an all-out guffaw. But enough so that I knew the job hadn't slipped through our fingers, and for my husband to this day to be able to stake his claim on having gotten Charles to chuckle.

Shame Charles and Di never did end up being our BFFs, no double-dating, naming each other our kids' godparents. But we'll always have Charles' chuckle. 

Great news! Red Hot Romeo is free! A hot Italian, a gorgeous supermodel, and fabulous wines…what’s not to love?!

You can check out the first book in the Royal Romeo series for free here:

Kindle: bit.ly/RedHotRomeo
iBooks: http://bit.ly/RHRom
Nook: http://bit.ly/RHRNook
Kobo: http://bit.ly/KoboRHR
Google Play: http://bit.ly/RHRgoogle

Check out my Falling for Mr. Wrong series! Falling for Mr. Wrong,  Falling for Mr. Maybe, Falling for Mr. No Way in Hell  and Falling for Mr. Sometimes and Falling for Mr. Right are now available for pre-order.

Lastly, don't forget, book one of the It's Reigning Men series, Something in the Heir, is free here!

I hope you'll have a chance to check out my Royal Romeos series, which is a spin-off of my wildly popular It's Reigning Men series--please do check them out!

Happy reading!

    

  

  

         

How Horribly Lovely by Jenny Gardiner

Hey all!

Happy three days after Valentine’s Day ;-). This winter I’ve tried to make time for a little bit of TV series binge-watching—the latest being The Crown. I thought it started out slow but I quickly became quite engrossed in it—a bit of insight into what is really a strangely rarified world that the rest of us peons could never properly relate to. I did find it quite fascinating to learn about I guess you’d call it the moral underpinnings of Queen Elizabeth—what has motivated her over the years, perhaps why she’s often seemed cold and detached, even why she’s not yet yielded the throne to her son (who sure comes across as neglected in that series!). But it turns out, it’s complicated! Evidently it’s not easy being the Queen…

One of the fun things about writing about royals is the research involved. For Red Carpet Romeo, which comes out today and is centered around a royal wedding in Monaforte with the It’s Reigning Men gang, I started digging around to learn what happens in a palace in preparation for things like State Dinners and other premier royal events, and wow, it’s nuts! The manpower and the elbow grease are staggering. It takes days to prepare, and there is no detail unattended to, right down to measuring the distance between the dinner plate and the edge of the table.  You can learn more here http://bit.ly/2l0Lus0

I suspect I’d make a horrible guest at a royal dinner: guaranteed I’d say the wrong thing, use the wrong utensil, request my dressing on the side, make an inappropriate joke that would render those within earshot dead silent. I feel fairly certain I’d not be invited back.

Once I saw a documentary about Queen Elizabeth in which two girls presented her with a sweater they’d knit for her. The Queen, in her own inimitable way, thanked them. “How horribly lovely,” she said with what looked like a grimace but was probably actually a smile. Not many people can properly use the word “horribly” in a compliment. I thought it was endearing.

We’ve also caught up on movies in advance of the Oscars—so many good ones out right now but a lot of pretty depressing ones. Loved Manchester by the Sea but ugh, it was, to borrow the Queen’s phrasing, horribly sad. La La Land—they had me till the ending, which I hated. Jackie—again, so grim but so well-acted. Lion—amazing. But so sad. Hmmm…there’s a theme here. Hidden Figures was uplifting! Oh but I adored 20^th Century Women—it was quirky yet so much fun and terrifically acted. The other night because of a movie ticket snafu, we ended up watching The Nice Guys at home—loved that film! Lots of laughs and slapstick, which I love. Oh and go watch A Royal Night Out if you’re looking for a fun escapist movie.

I also wait anxiously each week for a new episode of This is Us (the best!) and I can’t resist that evil Corinne on the Bachelor, which has me tuning in for all their mindless nonsense ;-). Oh and now I can’t help but watch Riverdale—it’s totally not my thing, but the girl who plays Veronica used to live across the street from us and was my daughter’s best friend when they were little girls, so it’s fun to watch her all grown up and all girl-powery while being slightly villainous.

On a sad note, we lost our beloved Labrador Sassy a couple of weeks ago after nearly 14-1/2 wonderful years. It’s been really hard; I miss her like mad. I set her picture as my phone wallpaper, but it made me cry every time I looked at her so had to switch it out. I’ve now taken to stalking the most gorgeous Labrador retriever on Instagram here—his name is Camden and he belongs to a friend of a friend of a friend. He’s so a handsome boy! Oh, and if you love him, check out these insanely adorable white Lab puppies here—makes my heart jump for joy to watch them! I really need a puppy…

Here’s to royal weddings and puppies and good guys and villains, and while we’re at it, springtime being just around the corner.

 Check out my Royal Romeos series, which is a spin-off of my wildly successful It's Reigning Men series--I hope you'll be able to check them out!

  

How I Cast Characters – Kandy Shepherd

People often ask me where I get ideas for my characters. I find it difficult to answer because they seem like real, living, breathing people to me from the earliest stages of imagining a story.

Yet they’re not real people—they’re purely imaginary and not based on anyone I know. That’s not to say my characters might subconsciously contain snippets gleaned from people I’ve met over the years or even elements of myself!

But when I start a story, I do like to get a strong image of what those characters look like. I have fun “casting” them from actors and celebrities. My daughter is a great help, as she seems to have an encyclopedic knowledge of hot stars.

For example, for my March release, Crown Prince’s Chosen Bride, I started off with actor Theo James as my hero, Tristan, Crown Prince of the fictional European principality of Montovia.

For my heroine, Australian party planner Gemma  I cast actress Gemma Arterton.

(To see some of the images that kickstarted my imagination for the book, take a look at my Pinterest board, “Gemma and Tristan”).

But, as always seems to happen, as I wrote the story Tristan and Gemma developed into their own people. Theo James has brown eyes, Tristan’s are a vivid blue. Gemma began to look different to my actress muse, too, with cinnamon eyes and bright auburn hair. By the end of the book, my mind’s eye saw Tristan and Gemma as unique individuals with their own looks and personalities.

Here’s how Gemma and Tristan look on the lovely cover.

Then, of course, the nature of the reading experience means readers get their own images of how the characters I created look.

An early reviewer of Crown Prince’s Chosen Bride sees Tristan as Richard Madden and Gemma as Lily James, the stars of the recent Disney remake of Cinderella. I was delighted, as I loved that movie and those characters and the book definitely has a fairy-tale element to it. (I actually have Lily James as muse for a character in a future story…)

I love it when readers write to me to tell me they think one of my books would make a great movie and give casting suggestions for the hero and heroine. It’s such an interesting experience for me as a writer—because they have never been the same actors I have used as character muse for that story!

When you’re reading a book, do you ever imagine an actor, celebrity or someone you know as one of the characters? Or simply believe in the characters the author has created? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Make a comment if you’d like to be in the draw for an advance paperback copy of Crown Prince’s Chosen Bride. Please include your email address if you want to be in the draw.

Crown Prince’s Chosen Bride will be released on March 1, 2016 and is available for pre-order now.

Kandy Shepherd is an award-winning author of contemporary romance and women’s fiction. She lives on a small farm in the Blue Mountains near Sydney, Australia, with her family and a menagerie of four-legged friends.

Visit Kandy at her website

www.kandyshepherd.com

Connect with Kandy on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest

The Black Hole of Researching a Novel by Jenny Gardiner

We were talking about research on another blog this week so I thought I'd talk a little bit about things I've had to learn while writing my books.

Yeesh! Research! Nearly as big a time-suck as Facebook is...but at least with research, I'm learning something. Maybe it'll help me get on Jeopardy some day.

If I want to distract myself and not do the writing I need to do, all I need to do is knock on the door of my good friend Mr. Google under the guise of researching for my book, and off we go on a little educational adventure...

I find in researching royalty for my It's Reigning Men series, it can get super complicated, so many lords and dukes and marquesses and then if you change countries it's a marquis and don't even get me started on emperors and dowagers. If I want to adhere to strict rules of royalty as per Burke's Peerage, well, forget it. It gets far too complicated, and well, my characters aren't British. They're more like British-ish. With a soupçon of Italian, and maybe un peu de français. With a little Scandinavian royal wedding-wear thrown in for good measure. Which has made it more fun yet occasionally more time-consuming, and more easy for me to just chuck the rules out the window and make up my own royal dictates. Sometimes you just gotta love fiction because it lets you just make it all up.

That said, I had worked for a long time on a book I had hoped would be a fantastic novel. It is, unfortunately, not that at all, and is in fact never going to see the light of a publishing day, so all that time and effort and gnashing of teeth was for nought. Although maybe not entirely because I did learn plenty from it--i.e. I learned not to waste my time on a lousy book. But I had to do some interesting research for that one because my characters needed to die in a car accident but be resuscitated in the emergency department (and yes, they are now called emergency departments, not emergency rooms). The resuscitation idea came up when I was reading Sam Parnia's Erasing Death: The Science That Is Rewriting the Boundaries Between Life and Death. Fascinating book, by the way. I was so intrigued with the universality about what happens with people who have died and been revived, so I decided to give my characters a chance to walk that path.

My town is a big hospital town, so it's easy to find medical types who are willing to help out. I reached out to someone I know who knew someone who was a nurse in the ED and happy to let me pick her brain. And she was amazing, gave me the grand tour, we sat in the trauma bays and she went over minute details about every piece of equipment in there and what would happen with a car accident and what might kill someone but leave room for resuscitation, then what would happen if the medical team was able to get their hearts working again. She gave me the names of a number of medical conditions that could fit into this category, which I then went down the rabbit hole of the internet to research more deeply.

A family friend is an EMT and she helped me to understand what would happen when they arrived on the scene of an MVA (motor vehicle accident, natch).

For the same book I needed my protagonist to develop a deep friendship with a man who'd been a cattle rancher in Australia. Oh they're not ranches in Australia, they're stations. So I reached out to some Australian friends for details about all things Oz I'd need to know for this. And the protagonist was a wedding photographer who was flown by a wealthy client to shoot their wedding on the Amalfi Coast (I actually have a photographer friend who had such luck!), so had to drill down for more information on where you'd marry there. I decided I didn't want it to be on Capri, so turned my sights to Positano, a town I love.

So while the book is dead, may it rest in peace (oh wait, maybe it was a cardiac tamponade that killed the book and can actually be revived with a needle precariously inserted into its pericardial sac!), I learned all sorts of interesting things and wasted much time that could have been spent on another book that might see the light of day. But I'm all the wiser for it, on a number of levels. At least that's what I tell myself.

Such is the day-to-day working of a writer, I guess! And I'm ever so grateful we have the internet to rely upon rather than having to stir up my allergies by delving into dusty, dark rooms full of old books I'd need to read cover-to-cover in order to glean the needed information.

Speaking of publishing books, today book four of It's Reigning Men, Love is in the Heir is being released--hope you'll check it out!

iBooks

Kindle

Nook

Kobo

And I just re-released Anywhere But Here, with a brand spanking new cover. It's a book I've always enjoyed, and if you've not read it, feel free to mosey on over to see what you think!

iBooks

Kindle

Nook

Kobo

Lastly, book 5 of the It's Reigning Men series, Shame of Thrones, is available for pre-order!

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A Little Sneak Peek of LOVE IS IN THE HEIR

Hi!
In less than a month I'll be releasing book four of my IT'S REIGNING MEN series, LOVE IS IN THE HEIR. So I thought I'd give you a preview. And I'm excited to be well into writing book 5, SHAME OF THRONES (thanks to my husband for that great title!). Hope you enjoy this sample of LOVE IS IN THE HEIR--it's available for pre-order now: Amazon, Apple, Kobo. And pre-order for Shame of Thrones will be available in a few weeks!

Chapter One

Pippa Grimaldi, a decidedly modern Monafortian duchess and all-around life of the party, didn’t normally ogle men. It just wasn’t her style. And she’d certainly never held up any man in the royal family as anything but friend material. That is, until she ran into His Royal Highness Prince Christopher, Duke of Esmeralda—Topher, for short—for the first time in many years.

Pippa and Topher, third in line to the throne of Monaforte, had a history, and not such a great one. Back when he was fourteen, Pippa, best friends with Topher’s brother Zander and a regular at the palace, wandered in on Topher with his pants down, in mid, uh, self-service mode.

Mortified, Pippa burst into a nervous laughter, then hightailed it out of his room to Zander’s room so fast that her friend immediately noticed something was wrong. And once Zander—long the bad boy prince in the family—latched onto what she’d encountered, he never let it go. Poor Topher was dubbed “The Wanker” by his older brother and teased mercilessly by his siblings for years.

Over the years, it was obvious that Topher took great pains to avoid Pippa’s presence, because aside from his continued embarrassment over The Episode, whenever the two of them were together, invariably the whole thing was dredged up yet again, much to his deep chagrin.

And so when Topher encountered Pippa at the reception following the royal wedding of his brother Adrian, he could only hope that royal decorum would trump his siblings’ propensity for jocularity. The last thing he needed while suited up in his regal princely military garb for this shindig was to be reduced to that shamed teenager of years earlier, with a round of guffaws and elbows to the side while the siblings all referenced Topher’s manual dexterity. Sometimes, even his usually sweet sister Isabella got in on the act. And it would only make matters worse if his new sister-in-law Emma joined the fray.

He really just hoped that after being gone for so long, maybe at last the event had been tucked away in the cobwebbed attic of family lore, finally forgotten, laid to merciful rest. It always amazed him that no matter how old you got or how accomplished you became, you were always brought to your knees by some stupid happening in your life you wish you’d never committed. Or at least wished you’d locked the door for.

Of course one thing he always, always, always held close to him about that day was this: the only reason he was in the midst of the deed at that particular moment was that Pippa had showed up at the palace in a particularly skimpy skirt and tight tee that highlighted her burgeoning assets. And what gangly, awkward teenage boy could resist that? As the two-years-younger brother, Topher always had a little bit of a crush on his brother’s friend, but he also never confided this to a soul. And so in deference to her dignity, he realized all the more it needed to remain tucked away in his mind only, as it would merely serve to humiliate Pippa.

But from then on, he forever associated Pippa with his shame from that event, and rarely did he ever dare to entertain thoughts of Pippa as anything but a family friend.

~*~

Topher, his gentle gray eyes and wavy dark hair highlighted by the bright blue royal military uniform he wore, had just finished his drink at the wedding reception when his brother Zander pulled him into a conversation unwittingly.

“Plus,” Zander said to his beautiful blonde, blue-eyed girlfriend Andi, extending his arm as his younger brother came toward them. “Soon this strapping young man will find himself a woman and the paps will latch onto him instead. Even though I am the much better looking brother.” Andi had seemingly pulled off the impossible, taming the womanizing Zander, known for his scampish good looks, with his scruffy dark hair, perpetual five o’clock shadow, and mesmerizing green eyes.

Apparently Andi was fearful of the paparazzi, which had caused her to flee her blossoming romance with Zander, and Zander had only somehow lured her back to Monaforte just in time for the wedding.

Topher looked at him with wide eyes like he was crazy. “Yeah, right. Besides, don’t hold your breath on that,” he said. “The chances of my marrying any time in the next millennium are slim to none.”

“That’s what I said, and look at me now,” Adrian said as he walked up to the group. The oldest of the siblings, Adrian was devastatingly handsome, and on this, his wedding day, his brilliant sapphire eyes were alight with happiness. “Zander, looks like finally your invisible girlfriend here took pity on you?” He nodded toward Andi, who blushed.

Topher was thrilled the conversation was focusing on Zander’s romance, but only then did he notice that Pippa was lurking on the fringe of the conversation. Pippa—looking so damned hot in the halter gown Topher tried desperately not to stare at because it highlighted her breasts and her shapely waist—was the last thing he needed to think of right now. Those thoughts could get him into a lot of trouble. Her hazel eyes seemed to sparkle against the warm melon color of her chiffon gown.

Two times two is four, four times four is sixteen, sixteen times sixteen is two hundred and fifty-six, he repeated in his head, tamping down all potentially damning sexual thoughts involving the woman, including the time he’d seen her naked when she came out of the shower of the palace pool house when she was seventeen. Two times two is four, four times four is sixteen, sixteen times sixteen is two hundred and fifty-six,

Topher could feel the front of his dress blues getting just a little bit snug, and he continued distracting himself with simple mathematical equations until he could extricate himself from present company. He glanced out of the corner of his gray eyes to see that Pippa’s cascading brown curls—which as a teenager looked so sexy on her, tumbling over her shoulders like a riotous waterfall—had been pulled up in a loose chignon, her hair topped with the obligatory tiara that most women of royalty wore to such events. Hers was interlaced with tiny flowers, and soft strands of curls framed her face, which had grown only more beautiful with age. He thought she looked like quite the princess herself, even if she was actually a duchess. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but in the pecking order of royalty, she wasn’t a princess. Even if she looked like the fairytale version of one.

“Don’t worry, Andi,” Pippa said, piping into the conversation. “We all take care of each other here. You won’t be bombarded by anyone trying to get at you. Just a little here and there. Otherwise we cut ‘em off at the knees.” She made a slicing motion across the throat, jokingly.

Topher knew only too well how everyone took care of each other around here, even when it involved totally dicking on your brothers. Slicing across the throat indeed. That might have been easier for him if they had just slit his throat. Lost in thought, he rejoined the conversation as Pippa continued talking.

“I must say, most intriguing of all is little Topher here,” Pippa said, turning to him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since you were a scrawny kid. You’re looking awfully filled out.” She eyed him up and down with a look of hunger on her face.

“Down, boy,” Zander said, tapping on Pippa’s head. “I think Topher is allergic to girls.”

His brother discreetly flipped him the finger.

Awfully filled out?

If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought he was perhaps a baby wildebeest and Pippa a very hungry leopard about to pounce.

Topher said a mental prayer that this was not the segue he’d been dreading and breathed a sigh of relief when, not a half a minute later, he was saved by the arrival of Adrian’s new bride, Emma, ravishingly beautiful with her chestnut curls loosely pinned up and tucked behind a dazzling tiara. Her hazel eyes were wet with tears of happiness. Thank goodness for all of this wedding nonsense as a distraction.

This time he was spared.

~*~

Pippa tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand. Something to do with Adrian and Emma’s wedding and then something more about Emma’s good friend Caroline and Adrian’s best friend Darcy showing up to the wedding engaged, of all things. Which apparently happened after Darcy’s sister Clementine orchestrated a fabulous fake-out at a party at Pippa’s family estate, which left Darcy thinking Zander was hitting on Caroline. At this very party, Zander then ended up hooking up with Andi, with whom Pippa had worked at a refugee camp in Africa months earlier.

Pippa couldn’t help but wonder why everyone around her seemed to be finding soul mates, while she only seemed to find another excuse to host a party or play cupid with her friends’ relationships. Not that she was looking or anything; she was too busy to really worry about dealing with a boyfriend. But sometimes it seemed like it would be nice to have someone to maybe just go on a date with. Or make out with. Or more. She hadn’t scratched that itch in as long as she could remember. The opportunity didn’t present itself when Pippa was working overseas in various philanthropic capacities, which she did as manager of Zander’s Prince’s Trust foundation.

Her thoughts migrated to Topher, standing several feet from her—though she knew if he’d had his way, there’d be several hundred feet separating the two of them. It had always been that way. Well, not quite always. But certainly since The Episode. Honestly, to this day Pippa could still close her eyes and conjure up the image of Topher in that compromising position. It had always left her feeling conflicted—embarrassed, no doubt, but kind of hot and bothered, too.

She’d never seen such a thing before, and it was the first time she’d ever seen one of those things live and in action. God, she still felt like a rookie in the sex department. She’d had a handful of less-than-compelling relationships in college and since, but nothing that aroused much, well, arousal. Most of the guys she’d dated were kind of boring, often trying to rub shoulders with royalty and rarely interested in Pippa as a person.

She tried to discreetly check out Topher from the corner of her eyes. He looked so damned handsome garbed in full military regalia: the crisp blue uniform, the sheathed sword, the sash, and all the medals. For the first time in forever, she felt her heart almost skip a beat over a guy. But could it be a worse guy? Thanks to Pippa, Topher was pegged with that embarrassing nickname by his brothers and could never live down something that undoubtedly the whole lot of them did daily under that palace roof. Poor Topher had the grave misfortune of being caught red-handed. Literally.

She burst out laughing at her own mental joke, so loudly that everyone in the conversation turned to look at her. She tried to cover up her laughter by pretending to be choking on a sip of champagne. But her eyes met Topher’s and in that brief exchange, they both knew they were each revisiting that moment yet again.

Pippa felt horrible: the poor guy could never live down such an isolated instance in his life. No thanks to her.

 Chapter Two

Topher spent dinner engaged in conversation with some princess from Sweden or Denmark or another very blonde country. She was absolutely stunning: deep blue eyes, natural blonde hair (he assumed), perfect skin, knockout figure. Who could complain? In the days of his ancestors, no doubt he’d have been seated by the woman someone else had deigned it necessary for him to marry to forge a union with another country. Which made him quite happy this was not the culture nowadays. Because while this blonde princess was incredibly hot, she was a bit boring. And her breath smelled. Besides, the last thing he wanted was a) to get married, and b) to be told he had to get married.

He was perfectly happy pursuing an advanced degree in marine biology and traveling to tropical climates in pursuit of that pursuit. What he didn’t need was an anchor in the form of a woman to tie him down. Nope, the type of anchor he preferred got lowered by a chain into sand at the bottom of the ocean, when whatever boat he was sailing in was stopping for the night.

Nothing thrilled him more than being on the water, maybe kicking back with a steak fired up on the tiny grill on the back of the boat, a cold beer in his hand, and Bob Marley blasting on the speakers as the horizon swallowed the last of the day’s sun in a spectacular show of color.

It’s not that he didn’t get into the whole dog and pony show of royalty, it’s just that as third in line to the crown, he didn’t have to bow to it quite so often, and he really did enjoy his freedom.

After dinner, the orchestra resumed playing, and he made a point to avoid his dinner companion before having to take it to the dance floor with her halitosis. But soon everyone was coupled up, and while he stood discreetly to the side, trying to not be seen and making small talk with people he really couldn’t have cared less to talk to, he noticed Pippa stood, not far away, perhaps also avoiding being seen. But she had a little bit of a sad look in her eyes, and it made his heart ache just a touch. Enough so he decided to approach her.

“You’re looking somber for such a happy occasion,” he said, handing her a flute of champagne he’d grabbed from a passing waiter.

Pippa shook her head. “Really?” she said. “I didn’t mean to look so disconnected. I guess I’m just lost in thought.”

Topher shook his head. “Please, don’t tell me it’s that thought.” He decided it was high time to just make light of the damned thing, at least face-to-face with her.

She blushed and stammered her reply. “Oh, God, no! I mean, what thought?”

He lowered his head and arched his brow. “I think it goes without saying which thought.”

“You mean that? Heavens no! I thought about that hours ago.” She covered her mouth with her hands. “I mean no! I haven’t been thinking about that! I haven’t thought about that in ages. Actually I’ve never thought about that.” Pippa placed her hand over her eyes, mortified at her stupid remarks.

Topher repeated his dubious look. “I’m pretty sure if I thought about it when we first ran into each other, then you did.”

Pippa cringed. “Oh Toph. It was so long ago. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to resurrect that dead issue.”

He laughed. “Not to worry. It never died, so you can’t be accused of bringing it back to life. Like it or not, it’s part of me now.”

Pippa snorted. “Were it not for me, it wouldn’t have remained in you long enough to be an issue.”

She burst out laughing.

Topher smiled. “Yep, talk about wank-us interruptus.” They both laughed. “I think it’s time we let bygones be bygones with this one, what do you say?”

She nodded and looked down, blushing, which surprised Topher because he’d never known her to be one to wither at the first sign of awkward conversation. Of course if any topic would make her cringe, this one certainly would  be it.

“Yeah, sure.”

Topher reached out his hand in invitation. “Would you like to dance?”

She smiled and nodded, and he pulled Pippa toward him to escort her to the dance floor as they joined the hundreds of guests around them. For several minutes they just enjoyed each other’s company, not saying a word.

When the orchestra started playing “Beyond the Sea,” Topher pulled her closer, his hand around hers, pressed to his chest.

“This is my song,” he said to her.

“You have your own anthem?”

Topher smiled. “Smart-ass,” he said, tapping her on the nose with the tip of his finger. “No. But it makes me think of what makes me happiest: being out on the ocean.”

Pippa cocked her head. “Oh really? You’re a seagoing creature, are you?”

He nodded. “Something about the water calls to me. I’ve been pursuing my studies in marine biology, which takes me there often. I feel most at home when I’m bobbing on a boat in azure waters.”

She nodded. “I understand what you’re saying. It’s like how I feel when I’m helping others. It’s almost like I’m home, too, in a way.”

“Helping others?”

“I work for Zander’s charity,” she said. “I often travel all over the world, whether I’m trying to enlist financial support or simply helping out with a project myself.”

Topher had no idea that’s what Pippa did. He was relieved she wasn’t one of those trustafarian royals who rested on her daddy’s bank account and shopped till she dropped. Though to be fair, he could easily be of the same ilk. Except that his parents would kill him if he tried that.

He found himself leaning in and whispering into her ear, “Wow, you’re quite the international woman of mystery, now.”

Pippa shook her head. “Not so much. Just doing my job is all. But I’d love to hear about your travels.”

Topher’s eyes lit up. “I’ve been doing research on global warming and its impact on coral reefs. Which means I get to sail in beautiful locations all in the name of work.”

“Not too shabby,” she said. “I could almost be jealous about that.”

“Maybe you could figure out a way to incorporate your charitable work with it and come sailing with me some time.” Topher lifted his brow.

Pippa caught her breath. “Me? Sailing with you?”

Topher leaned back to take in her demeanor. “If it’s something you might enjoy.”

“Who doesn’t love to sail?” she said. “But I’ve only sailed in the Mediterranean. What’s it like in the Caribbean?”

He took a breath as he thought about it. “The water is so clear and comes in so many intoxicating shades of blue and green.”

She smiled dreamily. “I never thought of those colors as intoxicating.”

“Oh, but they are,” he said. “Imagine, looking at water the color of the finest turquoise stones. So pure and so inviting. It warms the soul.”

“But what about sharks?”

Topher shook his head. “The biggest sharks you have to worry about there are of the male variety,” he said. “Some of those beach bars, you just never know what type of disreputable men you’ll encounter.”

They both laughed.

“Disreputable, eh?” she said, cocking her eyebrow. “But surely you’d protect me from these shark men, right?”

Topher pulled her in tighter, thinking of how he’d always fantasized about being that man to take care of Pippa.

“That goes without saying,” he said, his voice warm and rumbly in her ear.

“So what do you do with yourself when you’re all the way out there in the ocean? How do you while away those long, lonely nights?”

He laughed. “To be honest, I’ve never had to concern myself with whiling away the hours. After a long day of work, the best I can muster is kicking back with a rum drink, grilling a steak, and blasting some music while absorbing yet another perfect sunset.”

“By yourself?”

“There’s always the skipper,” he said.

“Now that’s not exactly romantic,” Pippa said. “You, a romantic sunset, and the captain.”

Topher cracked up. “Unless the skipper’s a woman,” he said with a wink. “But seriously, you’ve got a point. Though I suppose some might find it romantic to be with the captain.”

“What about companionship?” she asked. “Don’t you find it lonely being out to sea so long?”

To be truthful, he occasionally did. It wasn’t like you could pick up a one-night stand so easily when you were out to sea. Nor did you want to pick up someone you’d regret being stuck with. He tended to keep his philandering shore-side. Not that he philandered much, but still.

“You ask funny questions, you know that?” he said. “For someone who would barely talk to me for all those years, now you’re concerned about my love life?”

Pippa paused as if to think for a minute, then broke into a wide grin. She glanced up into his face, and he knew exactly what triggered her reaction.

“Oh, my God,” he said. “Surely you’re not asking me that?”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t at first,” she said. “But then I started to think about it. I mean what else does one do when one is away from members of the opposite sex and the need is there?”

Topher grinned. “That might depend upon whom you’re talking about. I am a man, after all,” he said. “Let’s leave it at that.”

Pippa’s mind flashed to The Episode, where the boy Topher was deeply engrossed in that very activity. Her face flushed as she recalled it.

“But,” he added, “If you really want to discuss this, then what about you? What would you do all alone on a boat?”

She pursed her lips and thought about it. “Depends if the boat has thin walls.”

He laughed some more. “I’m starting to think I’d love to be your skipper. I’d tell you the walls were fortified, if that’s what it took.”

Pippa fake-slapped him. “Why, how dare you, Prince Christopher!”

“Oh, so we’re going to do it on a dare, then?” he asked, pulling her in closer, whispering into her ear.

Her breathing got heavier as she thought about him all alone on a boat. “I could be persuaded,” she whispered back into his ear.

It was Topher’s turn for heavy breathing as he pressed himself up against her, leaving no question about where this discussion was going in his mind. “It’s gotten so crowded in here. Perhaps we should continue this discussion somewhere a little more…private.”

Pippa locked her hazel eyes onto his soulful gray ones. “But everyone would know we’d disappeared together.”

He shook his head. “We’ll slip off discreetly. You go first and I’ll follow in a minute. I think you know the way to my apartment.”

She took a deep breath. “Our secret?”

He nodded. “No one will be the wiser.”

   

   

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