Tarin was so stunned, he almost fell. Thankfully, he recovered and stood up, calling out to his guards even though they could see what was happening and were already arranging for transport to the hospital. Tarin scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the building, ignoring the curious crowd.
It would be reported in the news the following day that the handsome prince groaned quietly as he put his wife into the vehicle. But the greatest news was that the royal family of Raminar had a new baby boy in their happy family. Mother and son were thriving and the royal family was thrilled to add a new member. It was also reported that the Princess Rachel’s side of the family was still struggling to recover from their bankruptcy filings and her parents’ divorce was final.
Message from Elizabeth:
I sincerely hope that you enjoyed Tarin and Rachel’s story! I know that you have an incredibly busy life, but reviews are hugely important. Would you take just a few seconds to leave a review? Click HERE to go back to the retail site’s book page. Just a few words are extremely helpful! Thank you so much!
(If you don’t want to leave feedback in a public forum, feel free to e-mail me directly at [email protected]. I answer all e-mails personally, although it sometimes takes me a while. Please don’t be offended if I don’t respond immediately. I tend to lose myself in writing stories and have a hard time pulling my head out of the book.)
Keep scrolling for a titillating excerpt from my next series Forsaken Sons first book One More Kiss!
Excerpt for One More Kiss
Release date: March 12, 2021
Click HERE to get Lincoln and Kinsley’s story!
“I need your help.”
Kinsley looked up from the receipt she was trying to decipher. For the past week, she’d been squinting at receipts, pulling her hair out in an effort to determine how to associate each cost to the projects.
So when he poked his head into her office, it took Kinsley a long moment to shift gears. “I’m sorry?”
He waved his hand. “Leave all that. I need your help with something.”
Kinsley grabbed a pen and notebook, and obediently followed behind Lincoln. “How can I help?” she asked, excited for a distraction after working in her office all week with no interruptions other than phone calls from reporters and investors asking, demanding, threatening, and terrorizing her in their efforts to speak with Lincoln Meyers. One person had literally threatened an FBI investigation on her if she didn’t bring the man to the phone immediately. At that time, Lincoln hadn’t even been in the building…at least, she hadn’t seen him that morning. But…that wasn’t out of the ordinary. Some days, she didn’t see him at all, although he’d leave instructions on her desk.
He fascinated her and the more she learned about him, the more she…liked. If her boyfriend became angry when she refused to tell him anything about her new, mysterious employer or what she was doing for the famous recluse, it didn’t bother Kinsley in the least. She considered guarding his privacy part of her job.
“Kinsley!” he bellowed.
Kinsley glared at his back from her doorway. “I’m not a dog, Mr. Meyers,” she snapped. “And I’m right here, waiting for instruction. No need to bellow when a kind word will suffice.”
He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. Did his gaze move over her figure? Kinsley wasn’t sure.
“I’m well aware of that fact.” He turned and headed out the door, disappearing into one of the rare sunny days in Seattle.
Kinsley followed at a more leisurely pace. She wasn’t racing after a man who hollered at her. No way!
When she stepped outside, he was already sitting on his motorcycle, strapping his helmet on. “Here,” he handed a helmet to her. “Put this on and climb on.”
Kinsley blinked at the helmet in her hands, not sure what he meant. “Why would I put this on?”
“Because I need your help. Come on.”
She eyed the bike, then at his massive back that was literally rippling with muscles underneath a white tee shirt. Swallowing, she shook her head, stepping back from the bike. “Nope. I don’t ride motorcycles. Do you know what the death rate on motorcycles is these days?”
He chuckled. “I’m very well aware of the death rate. Which is why I need your help.”
Again, she shook her head, tucking the helmet underneath her arm. “Nope. No way!”
He chuckled. “Fine. Drive your little Prius over to the track.” A moment later, he was off, zipping down the driveway towards the mysterious area she’d wondered about.
For a long moment, Kinsley stared after him, not sure if she should follow him down that mysterious road, or head back into her office to figure out the zillions of seemingly random receipts. Eventually, curiosity got the better of her. She was eager to spend a little time outside of those four, harshly white walls. Hurrying back around the building, she grabbed her keys and drove around the building in the direction Lincoln had gone.
Sure enough, he’d parked the motorcycle next to what looked like a huge racetrack. It even banked at the ends, presumably for safety when a vehicle rounded those corners. Huh! The guy owned a racetrack! That was new. She’d heard of home theaters or basketball courts, private exercise rooms, even a special studio in one’s house for yoga. The rich and famous tended to be an odd breed. But none of the articles she’d read included a racetrack on a wealthy person’s estate.
“Okay, I’m here. How can I help?”
He was attaching something to the motorcycle, using a wrench and a few other tools that Kinsley didn’t recognize. “Grab a pair of headphones
