It's here! The Royal Bastard, the fourth book in the Royal Scandals series, is available everywhere. If you haven't read the other books in the series, never fear: this was designed to be enjoyed either alone or as part of the overall series. The story features wealthy, reclusive Rocco Cornaro and his estranged wife, World Cup skier Justine Flyte.
Want a taste? Here's the beginning:
Chapter One
Five hours after Rocco Cornaro
buried his mother, having tossed the last shovelful of dirt over her grave
while wishing her a swift ascent to heaven, Satan knocked at his front door.
More
accurately: Satan’s driver rang the bell at Rocco’s wrought iron security gate.
Rocco
stood at a second story window in his Dubrovnik villa, seething at the gall of
the woman hidden behind the tinted windows of the rented black Mercedes. The uniformed driver hadn’t given his
client’s name, but Rocco knew. Her
appearance was inevitable after she’d phoned two days ago and he’d hung up
after informing her that he had no interest in anything she had to say. He’d thought she’d at least give him the day
of his mother’s funeral in peace, but apparently royals did what they wanted
when they wanted, and to hell with anyone else.
Rocco
took a seat in his late stepfather’s favorite worn leather chair, kicked his
feet onto the windowsill, and dragged his palms over his face. Keeping it together while delivering his
mother’s graveside eulogy was the toughest thing he’d done in his life. Despite the emotion that threatened to
overwhelm him, he’d made it through, his voice resolute as he addressed the
small gathering of friends and family.
He finished a heartbeat before spying his wife watching from the shadows
of a tree near the edge of the cemetery.
There was no mistaking Justine’s stature, still lean and tight as any
Olympic athlete, nor the fact she recoiled as he glanced in her direction. He hadn’t invited her, and she hadn’t
intended to be seen.
What
was it with women showing up where they weren’t wanted today?
Thank
God his siblings hadn’t noticed Justine standing alongside the trunk of the
thick oak. Double thanks that they
hadn’t accompanied him back to his residence to see the sleek Mercedes now parked
outside. It would’ve spurred even more
questions than his wife’s appearance.
Rocco
leaned forward in his chair to take another look outside. The driver spoke near the Mercedes’ cracked
rear window, nodded, then returned to the gate and folded his hands in front of
him in a show of resolve. On the roadway
behind the Mercedes, a red BMW belonging to Rocco’s uphill neighbor slowed as
it passed on its way to the heart of the city.
“Damn
it all to hell.”
“Sir?” Kos Horvat stood in the doorway of Rocco’s
study. Twice Kos had informed the driver
that Rocco was not available. Twice the
driver had insisted that Rocco would wish an audience with his passenger and
that they would wait.
Rocco
swirled the amber liquid inside the crystal tumbler he clutched in one hand,
then took a long, slow sip, savoring the burn as it made its way down the back
of his throat. If anyone could be
deterred from darkening Rocco’s entrance, Kos was the man to deter them. Not only did he manage Rocco’s properties, he
had extensive security expertise and a build as powerful and unyielding as
Dubrovnik’s ancient city walls. But
Queen Fabrizia, whose husband ruled the wealthy Mediterranean island nation of
Sarcaccia, apparently wasn’t one to be put off by a burly, sour-faced Croatian
with a voice rough enough to intimidate men twice her size. Nor was she one whose mood would improve with
the delay.
“Talking
to myself, Kos.” Rocco rose from the
chair and turned away from the window.
“Allow the visitor to enter, but the car and driver stay outside the
gates. If this person is so anxious to
see me, they can walk.”
The
corner of Kos’s mouth twitched. It was
as close to a smile as the big man ever revealed. “Of course.”
I hope you enjoy Rocco and Justine's adventure! For more on the story, behind the scenes info, and links to bookstores, please visit The Royal Bastard page on my website.
