Sandra Marton - A Bride For The Playboy Prince - The perfect royal romance to celebrate Harry and Meghan’s wedding

Crowned for the Prince’s Heir Crowned for the Prince’s Heir Sharon Kendrick

Back Cover Text The secret she kept from the prince... Dress designer Lisa Bailey reluctantly broke off her relationship with Luc, knowing an affair with the prince had no future. But one last stolen encounter left her quaking with passion, drenched in desire and unexpectedly pregnant! Months later, Prince Luciano Leonides of Mardovia is on the brink of the perfect political marriage when a news article shows Lisa with an obvious bump! His baby. With Mardovian royal blood. Now he must claim his heir at any cost. She may be an unsuitable bride but she will become his queen! When one night...leads to pregnancy!

Dedication With special thanks to a dear friend - the wildly talented and inspirational Stewart Parvin – who designs amazing clothes and wedding dresses for discerning royals and women everywhere!

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

The Ice Prince

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

At His Majesty’s Request

Back Cover Text

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

About the Publisher

Crowned for the Prince’s Heir

Sharon Kendrick

The secret she kept from the prince...

Dress designer Lisa Bailey reluctantly broke off her relationship with Luc, knowing an affair with the prince had no future. But one last stolen encounter left her quaking with passion, drenched in desire and unexpectedly pregnant!

Months later, Prince Luciano Leonides of Mardovia is on the brink of the perfect political marriage when a news article shows Lisa with an obvious bump! His baby. With Mardovian royal blood. Now he must claim his heir at any cost. She may be an unsuitable bride but she will become his queen!

When one night...leads to pregnancy!

With special thanks to a dear friend - the wildly talented and inspirational Stewart Parvin – who designs amazing clothes and wedding dresses for discerning royals and women everywhere!

CHAPTER ONE

THE NAME LOOMED up in front of him and on the back seat of the limousine, Luc’s powerful body tensed. He knew what he ought to do. Ignore it. Drive on without a backward glance. Forget the past and accept the future which was waiting for him. But the dark voice of his conscience was forgotten as he leaned forward to speak to his driver, because sometimes curiosity was just too damned strong to resist.

‘Stop the car,’ he ordered harshly.

The car slid to a halt in the quiet street of London’s Belgravia, a street full of unusual restaurants and tasteful shops. But only one of these caught his eye—which was surprising, since Luciano wasn’t the kind of man who had ever featured shopping as a hobby. He didn’t need to. Even the expensive baubles discreetly bought as compensatory keepsakes for departing lovers were purchased on his behalf by one of his many staff.

But there had been no purchase of baubles for quite a while now and no heartbroken lovers to pacify. He had recently undertaken two long years of celibacy—not exactly happily, but because he’d recognised it was something he needed to do. And he had risen to the challenge. His mouth hardened at the unintended pun. He had channelled his considerable energies into his work. He had worn out his hard body with exercise. His mind had been clear, strong and focussed—yet he wondered where that focus was now as he read the two words scrolled in fancy letters above the shop across the street.

Lisa Bailey.

He could feel the sudden throbbing of his groin as her name whispered into his memory just as her soft voice had once whispered urgent little entreaties into his ear as he drove deep inside her. Lisa Bailey. The hottest lover he’d ever known. The talented designer with the unblinking gaze. The tumble-haired temptress with the delicious curves.

And the only woman to kick him out of her bed.

Luc shifted in his seat, locked in an uncharacteristic moment of indecision because ex-lovers had the potential to be complicated—and complications he didn’t need right now. He should tap on the glass and tell his chauffeur to drive on. Continue the journey to his embassy and deal with any last-minute queries before he returned to his island home after the wedding. He thought about what awaited him in Mardovia, and a sudden stillness settled over him. He had a duty to fulfil, or a burden to carry. It all depended which way you looked at it, and if he preferred to look for the positive rather than the negative—who could blame him?

His gaze returned to the shop front, and it was then that he saw her walking across the showroom and the pounding in his heart increased as he glimpsed the tumble of her curls. She turned slightly—showcasing the swell of her magnificent breasts. Lust arrowed sharply down into his groin, and stayed there.

Lisa Bailey.

His eyes narrowed. It was strange to see her here in this expensive part of town—far away from the edgier area of London where their paths had first crossed, in the tiny studio where she had designed her dresses.

He told himself it didn’t matter why she was here because he didn’t care. Yet he was the one who had directed his driver to take this route, wasn’t he? And all because he’d heard some woman mention her name and had discovered that Lisa Bailey had come up in the world. His tongue snaked out over suddenly dry lips. What harm could it do to drop in and say hello, for old times’ sake? Wasn’t that what ex-lovers did? And wouldn’t it convince him—as if he needed any convincing—that he was over her?

‘Wait down the road a little,’ he told the driver, opening the door himself and stepping onto the pavement. A few discreet yards away, a second car containing his bodyguards had also stopped, but Luc gave an almost imperceptible signal to tell them to keep their distance.

The August sun was hot on his head and there wasn’t a whisper of wind in the leaves of the trees in the nearby square, despite the fact that it was getting on for five o’clock. The city had been caught up in a heatwave so fierce that news bulletins had been featuring clips of people frying eggs on the pavement and lying sprawled in the city’s parks in various states of undress. Luc was looking forward to getting back to the air-conditioned cool of his palace in Mardovia. There white doves cooed in the famous gardens and the scent of the roses was far sweeter than the clogging traffic fumes which surrounded him here in the city. If it hadn’t been for Conall Devlin’s wedding party this weekend then he might have taken an earlier flight. Back to begin the process of embracing his new future—which he intended to do with whole-hearted dedication.

He pushed open the shop door and there she was, crouched down beside a rail of dresses with a needle in her hand and a tape measure around her neck—worn in the same way as a doctor might wear a stethoscope.

‘Hello, Lisa,’ he said, his tongue curling around the words as once it had curled around the soft swell of her breasts.