A.C. Arthur - To Marry A Prince

A royal seduction

Crown prince Kristian DeSaunters has been groomed since birth to take his place as leader of his tropical kingdom—with the proper princess by his side. Never one to lose his control, he’s stunned by his attraction to the free-spirited American stylist who arrives at the palace in his father’s fiancée’s entourage. Soon Kris and Landry Norris are sharing an instant sultry attraction that shows no signs of slowing down.

Landry couldn’t turn down the opportunity of a lifetime to dress the princess-to-be on a private Caribbean island. Falling for Kris is definitely not part of her plan, but the independent LA beauty soon finds herself yearning for a fairy-tale ending of her own. Until someone sets out to sabotage the upcoming nuptials—and Landry becomes the prime suspect. Will Kris and Landry be able to stop a hidden enemy bent on destroying the DeSaunters reign—and save the possibility of a future together?

“What do you need?”

The question was quick and impulsive. Her response was even quicker. And bold. Yes, Kris thought as he sucked in a quick breath when she’d taken that step closing the distance between them, it was bold.

“Why?” she asked. “What do you need, Prince Kristian?”

He stared at her for much longer than he figured a smooth and charismatic man should. Then again,

those had never been traits Kris possessed. He was the mature prince, the serious one who was all business, all the time. But he’d never done business with a woman who looked and smiled like Landry Norris. None of his dealings were filled with the scent she wore, or the sound of Landry Norris’s voice. And nobody, not even the women he’d dated over the years, whether for convenience or for political reasons, had ever made him lose track of what he should be doing.

Yet his response to her was simple and came as naturally as his next breath. Kris touched a finger to her chin, tilting her head up farther. Her lips parted slightly as her hazel eyes stared back at him. He leaned in closer, wanting desperately to see those eyes filled with lust. Wanting, even more hungrily, to touch his lips to hers, to taste the sweetness of her.

Dear Reader,

I am so excited to introduce the glamorous life of the royal DeSaunters family! One of my favorite moments while writing this series was actually cruising to the Caribbean islands and receiving so much inspiration for scenes in this trilogy.

I hope you have as much fun reading about this fabulous family as I did writing about them.

Happy reading,

ac

To Marry a Prince

A.C. Arthur

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A.C. ARTHUR is an award-winning author who lives in Baltimore, Maryland, with her husband and three children. An active imagination and a love for reading encouraged her to begin writing in high school and she hasn’t stopped since.

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To everyone who found their Prince Charming and to those who may still be looking. Dreams do come true!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

He took her breath away, and for Landry Norris, stylist to Hollywood’s most glamorous women and debonair men, that was no small feat.

That thought caused the very smooth and elegant curtsy that she’d practiced just before boarding the plane to come off with a bit of hesitation. Still, she smiled brightly as she lifted her head and came to a standing position. He—the Crown Prince Kristian Rafferty DeSaunters—stood before her in all his regal and hot-as-hell glory.

There had been a flurry of activity in the last couple of days, all of which had culminated in this moment. Landry clasped her hands in front of her cream-colored peplum top and gray pencil skirt, hoping she had made the correct outfit selection. That was her thing, after all—finding the right outfit for the right occasion and pairing it perfectly with the person who would wear it. Very rarely was she that person. But Malayka Sampson, one of Landry’s newer clients, had changed that.

In her briefcase, which she had left downstairs in the massive marble-and-gold-decorated foyer, was a signed contract between Landry Norris LLC and Malayka Sampson, the woman soon to be princess of Grand Serenity Island. That title and all that went with it had both surprised and impressed Landry when Malayka breezed into her Los Angeles office to share the news. On Malayka’s finger was a huge emerald, while the woman’s face sported a triumphant smile. Landry figured she’d be smiling too if she were wearing that rock.

Before that, Landry had only dressed Malayka for three functions—the Oscars, which Malayka attended with renowned producer Siegmond Elrey, the Met Gala and New York Fashion Week. Malayka was a cold call client, something Landry rarely accepted. One—she wanted to keep her personal stylist company small and intimate so that she could specially cater to her clients. And two—because most of the cold calls meant she had no idea who the potential client was or what type of funds they were working with.

She’d taken a gamble on Malayka Sampson and it seemed to have paid off, in spades.

“Have a seat, Ms. Norris,” the prince said in a low, deep voice that made Landry think of hot baths and back rubs.

She moved carefully to one of the cherrywood upholstered armchairs and gingerly took a seat. Considering Landry was used to being around wealthy people, handling gowns worth more than her childhood home, visiting mansions and attending movie premiers, being a guest in the royal palace on a Caribbean island felt unfamiliar to her. It was new and exciting and just a little bit nerve-racking.

From what she’d seen so far of the palace—it was lavishly decorated and spoke of the wealth and prestige of the people who lived there. Take this office for example, she thought with a quick glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows and grand stately furniture, it was one hell of a space. Roughly the size of the top level of her condo back in LA, the room was meticulously decorated with gold-leaf-framed portraits, Aubusson rugs and a large glossed wood desk where the gorgeous crown prince sat.

“It is Miss? You’re not married, are you?”

She could see his lips moving but had been too wrapped in the wonder of her surroundings to pay attention to what was being said.

“Excuse me?” she replied with a shake of her head, a silent admonishment to herself in hopes she would get it together.

He sat back in that dark leather chair, his honey-brown complexion combined with the pale gray color of his Italian-cut suit jacket providing a stark contrast. Behind him the white plantation shutters that covered each window were opened so that slices of sunlight slipped into the room.