Page 65 of Royal Shark
Sara laughs. “I forgot I would be a princess. Kiss me so I know I’m not dreaming.”
I kiss her and nip her lower lip. She leans into me. “You’re not dreaming.”
She takes my hand, and we join our family, now even larger with my Rourke cousins and our baby on the way.
I bet on us, and I won the jackpot.
~ ~ ~
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Don’t miss the next book in the seriesRogue Prince! Meet the Brooklyn cousins, the rough-around-the-edges Rourke men with no intention of settling down. Dylan’s story is up next, where he’s about to collide with his long-time frenemy and one-time lover.
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Rogue Prince
Dylan
I am the crown prince of Villroy, but instead of taking the king’s throne like I should have, my father got us all exiled. I’d complain, but he had good reason. Now our once royal family lives in Brooklyn, and I’m about to inherit a new kingdom: my uncle’s construction business. It’s an opportunity to build my real estate empire and make something of myself. All I need is an experienced person to help take it to the next level. And then the girl who grew up next door to me—all woman now—shows up with just the business experience I need.
Too bad Ariana Bianchi hates me. I used to think it was undeserved—fall-out from our families’ long-time feud—but there was this one time…
Ariana
I’m newly divorced and crashing at my parents’ house until I can get my life on track for my ultimate goal of having a baby with the help of a sperm bank. It’s the reason for my divorce—he didn’t want kids—and at thirty-one the clock is ticking. So when the gorgeous pig of a man, Dylan Rourke, shows up at my parents’ house to ask me to work as a consultant for his company, I see an opportunity. He wants something from me? Yeah, well, I want something in return, too.
Only Dylan makes this way more complicated than it needs to be.
Excerpt
Dylan
I head down the stairs and stride down the sidewalk toward Prospect Park. Later, I'll sit my uncle and my dad down to wring every bit of information I can get out of them. Now I need to get my head on straight.
I get to the park and start at a jog down the trail. The sun's starting to set, and the park is clearing out. I speed up. Before I know it I'm running full speed along the loop. It's a little over three miles and I make it around once before a cramp in my side has me bending over.
“Someone's getting old,” a feminine voice teases.
I straighten, holding my side. Well, if it isn't my mortal enemy—Ariana Bianchi. Just the person I want to witness my manly breakdown. She's in a bright pink hoodie with black yoga pants that cling to her shapely legs. I search my beleaguered brain for a comeback. “Aren't you too old to wear a pigtail?” I gesture to her hair up in a high pigtail.
“It's called a ponytail and fuck you.”
I stare at her mouth, surprised at her language. My memory of her is of a quiet girl who lived in tutus, always twirling around or, later, always with her nose in a book. Her lips are the same pink as her hoodie and the lower lip is fuller.Sexy.
I jerk my head up. “They teach you to curse at your fancy college?”
“The Rourkes taught me to curse. That's all I used to hear next door—F this, F that.”
“F that.” I laugh, surprising myself.
Her brown eyes dance with amusement. “That's right. F that.”
We crack up. I think I'm losing it.
She pulls her ankle up behind her, stretching. “I saw you running like a pack of wolves was chasing you. What's got your pants on fire?”
I laugh again. “Were you this funny when we were kids?”
