Exclusive Prologue Reveal: Royally Screwed by Emma Chase

ROYALLY SCREWED BANNER

Royal Scoundrels. “Wealthy, wild, with the world at their fingertips — these men can have anything — except the women they want most.” That’s what we can expect according to bestselling author Emma Chase with her exciting, highly anticipated new series which kicks off  with Royally Screwed! I’m thrilled to exclusively share the prologue with you today, along with my partner in crime, Natasha Is A Book Junkie! So excited and cannot wait to get my greedy little hands on this novel!

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Synopsis

Sep-19Emma Chase, New York Times bestselling author of the Tangled Series & Legal Briefs Series, returns with the first of three sizzling standalone books about a family of racy, irresistible Royals.

Nicholas Arthur Frederick Edward Pembrook, Crowned Prince of Wessco, aka “His Royal Hotness”, is wickedly charming, devastatingly handsome, and unabashedly arrogant—hard not to be when people are constantly bowing down to you.

Then, one snowy night in Manhattan, the prince meets a dark haired beauty who doesn’t bow down. Instead, she throws a pie in his face.

Nicholas wants to find out if she tastes as good as her pie, and this heir apparent is used to getting what he wants.

***

Dating a prince isn’t what waitress Olivia Hammond ever imagined it would be.

There’s a disapproving queen, a wildly inappropriate spare heir, relentless paparazzi, and brutal public scrutiny. While they’ve traded in horse drawn carriages for Rolls Royces and haven’t chopped anyone’s head off lately—the royals are far from accepting of this commoner.

But to Olivia—Nicholas is worth it.

***

Nicholas grew up with the whole world watching, and now Marriage Watch is in full force. In the end, Nicholas has to decide who he is, but more importantly, who he wants to be: a King… or the man who gets to love Olivia forever.

Excerpt

My very first memory isn’t all that different from anyone else’s. I was three and it was my first day of preschool. For some reason, my mother ignored the fact that I was actually a boy, and dressed me in God-awful overalls, a frilly cuffed shirt and patent brogues. I’d planned to smear finger paint on the outfit the first chance I got.

But that’s not what stands out most in my mind.

By then, spotting a camera lens pointed my way was as common as seeing a bird in the sky. I should’ve been used to it—and I think I was. But that day was different.

Because there were hundreds of cameras.

Lining every inch of the sidewalk, the streets, clustered together at the entrance of my school like a sea of one-eyed monsters, waiting to pounce. I remember my mother’s voice, soothing and constant as I clung to her hand, but I couldn’t make out her words. They were drowned out by the roar of snapping shutters and the shouts of photographers calling my name.

“Nicholas! Nicholas, this way, smile now! Look up, lad! Nicholas, over here!”

It was the first inkling I’d had that I—that we—were different. In the years after, I’d learn just how different my family is. Internationally renowned, instantly recognizable, our everyday activities headlines in the making.

Fame is a strange thing. A powerful thing. Usually it ebbs and flows like a tide. People get swept up in it, swamped by it, but eventually the notoriety recedes, and the former object of its affection is reduced to someone who used to be someone, but isn’t anymore.

That will never happen to me. I was known before I was born and my name will be blazoned in history long after I’m dust in the ground. Infamy is temporary, celebrity is fleeting, but royalty…

Royalty is forever.

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