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 drifted into a light sleep under the flower
power psychedelic bedspread when suddenly, I blinked my eyes open, and found
myself back on the plane flying from America to Fredonia. I sat in a first
class passenger seat, the tray table next to me open and filled with saucers of
honey-roasted peanuts and itty-bitty pretzels.
“Of course, you can have as many bags of peanuts
as you want, Ms. Trabbicio,” the flight attendant said, and placed a large
Tupperware container of them on the tray. “You’re flying first class now. For
you, we even have those super yum Friedricksburgh Farm mint sugar cookies.
Would you like some freshly made hot chocolate with that?”
“I’ll make Lucy’s hot chocolate,” Nicholas said,
wearing nothing but a tie in the Royal Fredonia colors and matching boxer
shorts.
I took in his defined shoulder and chest muscles,
and inhaled sharply as I drew my hand over his six pack, rock hard abs and
journeyed down to his festive underwear that suddenly tented in my honor.
“And to sweeten the deal,” he said, “I’m putting
extra fresh, homemade whipped cream on top.”
And just like that, a huge cup of steaming cocoa
materialized on the tray next to me with a swirl of whipped cream about eight
inches high that looked suspiciously phallic. “That looks super yum,” I said.
“You’d better believe it’s super yum, my American
Princess-to-be.” He leaned down, his jet-black hair brushing against my
forehead. His sexy day-old stubble scratched and tickled my cheek. He squeezed
my knee and whispered in my ear, “Come on, Lucy. Humor me. It will be so much
fun. I’m dying to initiate you into The Mile High Club. Who better to introduce
you to the joys of carnal relations at 5280 feet? I am, after all, your
fiancé.”
“Is this your fantasy that involves the first
class bathroom on this plane?” I asked. “Because I’ve already visited that room
for the usual reasons. The lighting is awfully harsh and I can see every pore
on my face. The sink is itty bitty and I’m not sure I want those sharp,
germ-ridden hot and cold water spigots etched into my ample backside.”
“Point taken,” he said. “Let’s improvise!” He
leaned down, kissed me fiercely, and then peeled off my proper pant suit in the
middle of British Airways First Class.
“No! I didn’t wear my fancy underwear, Nick. Just
my every day cotton briefs. Everyone will see!” I glanced around at all the
other first class passengers who were oblivious to the throes of our passion,
as they were absorbed in re-runs of Downton Abbey, a war movie on their
iPad, or a mind tickling Sudoku puzzle.
“It’s only you and me, Lucy.” Nick hit the
recline lever on my seat and threw it back into near horizontal mode. He stared
down at me, his lips full and bitable, his black hair messy, that one lock
traipsing across his moist forehead. “Let’s give it a go, shall we?” He dropped
trou, lifted one of my legs up over his shoulder, and had his wicked way with
me.
“Is mile high sex always this good?” I asked
about twenty minutes or two hours later, I couldn’t tell, as he lay collapsed
on top of me.
“Only airplane sex between you and me.” He lifted
his head and smiled at me. “Round two,
darling?”
