Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride

Available in stores

Mills & Boon Cherish

Aug 2014

ISBN 9780263913088


Harlequin Romance

Aug 2014

ISBN: 9780373743032

A Royal Surprise!

One look into the stranger's dark, mysterious eyes and Indigo Moran knows she's made a mistake in taking his picture. But who does he think he is? A prince? That night Indigo discovers that's exactly who he is: Crown Prince Lorenzo Torelli of Melvante.

To Lorenzo, duty lies with his country - he can't offer Indigo forever. The trouble is… once he's kissed her, one unforgettable night with never be enough. And now Indigo's little secret is about to turn his carefully ordered world upside down!

Also released as:

  • UK hardback (Aug 2014, ISBN 9780263242836)
  • UK large print hardback (Dec 2014, ISBN 9780263239140)
  • Also released in Australian paperback (Aug 2014, ISBN: tbc).


Behind the Book

I've long had a thing about stained glass - and so my heroine's occupation was an easy one. She's a stained glass restorer. The book opens when she's restoring a window in a stately home in Norfolk (yup, my part of the world, though the house itself is made-up) and ends up falling for a guest who's a family friend - and who turns out to be a prince. And she takes him to see a centaur and an angel in a tiny ancient church - these bits are real as they're my favourite pieces of stained glass, in a church about five miles down the road from where I live.

The other half of the book is set in Melvante, which is a completely made-up Mediterranean kingdom. But a week before the book came out, I visited Prague with my husband and teenagers, and I was a bit spooked by how much the city resembled the place in my head…

Basically, if you like stately homes, Mr Darcy, spaniels, stained glass and good food, then this one's for you.

I might add, this is my joint favourite cover of ALL my books (the other one being the Aussie/UK Kindle version of Bound By a Baby). Thank you very much to the Art Department.

The book's dedicated to Mike Scogings, who was kind enough to answer lots of questions and show me round his workshop (though all errors about stained glass restoration are mine); and to CC Coburn, who set off a whole chain of events in my head when she was talking about Scottish castles and mermaids.

Read a bit

She wasn't supposed to be there.

OK, Lorenzo knew that tourists were important. Without the income they brought when they visited the house and gardens of Edensfield Hall, his old school friend Gus would never have been able to keep his family's ancient estate going. Even keeping the roof of the house in good repair ate up huge chunks of the annual budget, let alone anything else.

But there were set times when the estate was open to the public. Right now wasn't one of them; the house and gardens were supposed to be completely private. Yet the woman in the shapeless black trousers and tunic top was brazenly walking through the grounds with a camera slung round her neck, stopping every so often to take a picture of something that had caught her eye. At that precise moment she was photographing the lake.

Strictly speaking, this was none of his business and he should just let it go.

But then the woman turned round, saw him staring at her, and snapped his photograph.

Enough was enough. He'd insist that she deleted the file – or, if the camera was an old-fashioned one, handed over the film. He was damned if he was going to let a complete stranger make money out of photographing him in the grounds of Edensfield, on what was supposed to be private time. A couple of weeks to get his head together and prepare himself for the coronation.

Lorenzo walked straight over to her. 'Excuse me. You just took my photograph,' he said, not smiling.


At least she wasn't denying it. That would make things easier. 'Would you mind deleting the file from your camera?'

She looked surprised. 'What's the problem?'

As if she didn't know. Lorenzo Torelli – strictly speaking, His Royal Highness Prince Lorenzo Torelli of the principality of Melvante, on the border between Italy and France – was about to inherit the throne and start governing the kingdom next month, when his grandfather planned to abdicate. There had been plenty of stories about it in all the big European papers, all illustrated with his photograph, so no way could she claim she didn't know who he was. 'Your camera, please,' he said, holding his hand out.

'Afraid not,' she said coolly. 'I don't let people touch the tools of my trade.'

That surprised him. 'You're actually admitting you're a paparazzo?'

She scoffed. 'Of course I'm not. Why would the paparazzi want to take pictures of you?'

She had to be kidding. Did she really not know who he was? Did she live in some kind of bubble and avoid the news?

'I don't like my photograph being taken,' he said carefully. 'Besides, the estate isn't open to the public until this afternoon. If you'll kindly delete the file – and show me that you've deleted it – then I'll be happy to help you find your way safely out of the grounds until the staff are ready to welcome visitors.'

She looked at him and rolled her eyes. 'I'm not doing any harm.'

Lorenzo was used to people doing what he asked. The fact that she was being so stubborn about this when she was so clearly in the wrong annoyed him, and it was an effort for him to remain polite. Though he let his tone cool by twenty degrees. 'Madam, I'm afraid the house and grounds simply aren't open to visitors until this afternoon. Which means that right now you're trespassing.'

'Am I, now?' Those sharp blue eyes were filled with insolence.

'The file, please?' he prompted.

She rolled her eyes, took the camera strap from round her neck, changed the camera settings and showed the screen to him so that he could first of all see the photograph she'd taken, and then see her press the button to delete the file from her camera's storage card. 'OK. One deleted picture. Happy, now?'

'Yes. Thank you.'

'Right.' She inclined her head. 'Little tip from me: try smiling in future, sweetie. Because you catch an awful lot more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.'

And then she simply walked away.

Leaving Lorenzo feeling as if he was the one in the wrong.

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