Falling For The Rebel Princess. Ellie Darkins

      From princess to rock-star royalty!

      Self-proclaimed “black sheep” Princess Charlie of Afland has worked long and hard to be taken seriously in the music industry, managing to keep her royal obligations, and her secret heartbreak, under the radar. Until one night in Vegas changes everything...

      Rock star Joe Kavanagh gets more from his Vegas gig than he’d bargained for...a princess bride and a PR story to die for! As the initial attraction, which led them down the aisle, turns into something deeper, keeping their marriage strictly business proves increasingly difficult...

      A glint of gold caught Charlie’s eye and stopped her dead.

      No. That had been the dream. It had to be.

      She went over her memories, rooted to the spot, staring at the ring, trying to pull apart what was dream and what was real. After eighteen hours traveling and many more without sleep, the past twenty-four hours barely felt real. Images and memories played through her mind as if they had happened to somebody else.

      The thrumming, heaving energy of the gig last night. That had been real. The music capturing her senses, hijacking her emotions and pumping her full of adrenaline. Real.

      Hot and sweaty caresses just before dawn. Dream.

      Dancing with Joe in the club, trying to talk business, shouting in his ear. Moving so closely with him that they’d felt like one body. Feeling the music play between them like a language only they spoke. Maybe that was real.

      The slide of his bare skin against hers. So, so dreamy.

      Him talking softly, trading tracks, sharing a pair of headphones, until one and then both of them fell asleep. God, she wished she knew.

      But as she raised her left hand and examined the demure gold band on her third finger she was certain of one thing.

      Las Vegas chapel wedding. Real.

      Falling for the Rebel Princess

      Ellie Darkins

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      ELLIE DARKINS spent her formative years devouring romance novels, and after completing her English degree decided to make a living from her love of books. As a writer and editor, she finds her work now entails dreaming up romantic proposals, hot dates with alpha males and trips to the past with dashing heroes. When she’s not working she can usually be found running around after her toddler, volunteering at her local library or escaping all the above with a good book and a vanilla latte.

      For Mike and Matilda

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Introduction

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       EPILOGUE

       Extract

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘NOT YET!’ CHARLIE GASPED, willing herself to be dragged back under.

      In her dream her skin was hot and damp, on fire from his touch.

      Awake, her tongue felt furry.

      In her dream her body hummed, desperate for the feel of him.

      Awake, her eyes stung as she peeled them open.

      In her dream she begged for more, and got everything she didn’t even know she needed.

      Awake, she needed to pee.

      She admitted defeat and stretched herself properly alive, wincing at the harsh Nevada sunlight assaulting her in the hotel room. As her toes encountered skin she flinched back, realising that she did have this one, small reminder of her dream. The man who’d taken the starring role was beside her on the mattress, his face turned away from her, his arms and legs sprawled and caught in the sheets. She looked away. She couldn’t think about him. Not yet.

      Easing herself out of bed, she willed him not to wake. And worked her thumb into her waistband, rubbing at her skin where her jeans had left a tight red line. The T-shirt she’d slept in was twisted and creased, and she glanced around the room, wondering whether her luggage had been transferred when the hotel had upgraded them to a luxury suite. She shuddered when she caught sight of herself in the mirror and tried to pull her hair up into some sort of order.

      It had started out backcombed and messy, and her eyeliner had never been subtle in her life—but a couple of hours’ sleep had taken the look from grunge to tragic. She wiped under her eyes with a finger, and the tacky drag of her skin made her shudder. And desperate to shower.

      A glint of gold caught her eye and stopped her dead.

      No. That had been the dream. It had to be.

      She went over her memories, rooted to the spot, staring at the ring, trying to pull apart what was