Tag: JJ Knight

It’s bad enough being a bloomin’ princess.

It’s not all cake and tiaras.

There’s rules. Expectations.

Your internet is censored. Your cell phones are tapped.

And your father is literally king.

Mine made a law that no man between the age of seven and thirty is allowed to work inside the palace.

Which means I’m surrounded by kitchen staff, female guards, and a dusty old tutor named Maurice.

Now I’m twenty-three with zero experience around men. I’ve never even texted one.

But on the castle lawn, there are dozens of hunky new guards working out below the tower. I spy on them every day.

I’ve chosen one.

Kind. Beautiful. Strong.

I sneak through the underground tunnels to surprise him in the rose garden and tell him how I feel.

Except when I finally confess my love through the trellis, and we walk to the end of the hedge to begin our forbidden romance…

__

Royal Rebel is a standalone romantic comedy about a princess who breaks all the rules, overzealous donkeys that interrupt make-out sessions, and a hunky guard who thinks he’ll never, ever, limit himself to one woman — until he does.

 

The Princess peers up at me. “Are you going to give me a movie screen kiss or not?”

 

Hell yes, I am.

 

If caution is a yellow flag, I fling it out of sight. I clasp the back of her head, threading my fingers through her hair. I pull her to me roughly until our bodies are flush together fully along their length.

 

I bend down and don’t wait for her to come to me. I pull her face to mine, delving instantly into her mouth. She opens in surprise as my tongue licks against hers. She’s warm honey and peppermint, yielding and soft.

 

After a moment, her body molds into mine. Her tongue comes for me, and her pulse flutters beneath my thumb at her throat. She lets out a sound and presses her pelvis against me.

 

With only a few inches between our heights, she lands where her body instinctively knows where to aim. I respond instantly, stiffening between us.

 

She pulls her face from mine, her eyes big as she looks up at me. “Is that…”

 

I want to grab her hips and grind into her. I’m fiercely in need. But I control myself. “It is.”

 

“What do I do with it?”

 

Oh, I could tell her.

 

She goes on. “Should I pretend it isn’t happening? It didn’t when I danced with that random guy. How often does it happen?”

 

I draw in a ragged breath. Her innocence is shocking, delectable. I want to break it wide open, right here, against a brick wall, pounding her until we both disintegrate into nothing.

 

Down, boy.

 

“You don’t have to talk about it. A guy knows it’s happening. It’s natural. Part of the process.”

 

“Already? Just from kissing? I thought we had to be naked. And ready to do that thing!”

 

“It can happen anytime.”

 

Her eyes go even wider. “Like at dinner? Or while driving a car?” She draws in a sharp breath. “Around your grandma?”

 

Okay, with that thought, I no longer have a problem. I let out a breath. “Probably not around a grandma. It’s a stage in the process. It’s not as obvious in women as men.”

 

“Is it happening to me?” She glances down at her jeans as if she might produce an erection or some other obvious sign. “Wait. Is that what they call a lady boner?”

 

I can’t stop myself from laughing. “Sort of. But not literally. You don’t have an outward sign.”

 

“What is my sign?”

 

Jesus. “A dampness. It’s called getting wet.”

 

“I’ve heard that phrase. They mean down there!”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It’s not pee, is it?”

 

HOSTED BY: