Title: Rags to Royals
Series: Royals Gone Rogue #3
Author: Erin Nicholas writing as
Erin Nicolle
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Tropes: Royal Romance/Single Mom/Small Town
Golden Retriever/He Falls First/He Falls Hard
Release Date: October 2, 2024
BLURB
A small-town single mom like me has no business believing in fairy tales.
But the very handsome, charming, dirty-talking prince (yes, seriously) I met nineteen months ago now has his fine ass and panty-melting grin planted on my front porch.
He’s been searching for me ever since I snuck out after our hot, fantasy-filled weekend together.
And, dammit, that’s a little romantic.
Now that he’s found me, he wants to pick up where we left off.
Because he thinks he’s in love with me.
Oh, and because he needs to get out of the marriage his grandfather, the king, has arranged for him.
Right. Even if I hadn’t lied to him about everything but my first name, the carefree, adventurous woman he burned up the sheets with for three days doesn’t exist.
I'm actually a stressed-out mechanic back in my small hometown, raising a sassy fifteen-year-old daughter, and trying to make amends for my mean girl past.
I just don’t think my grease-streaked work boots scream princess material.
Of course, he won’t take no for an answer.
Shocking, I know.
Instead, he proposes a deal: I give him nineteen days to get to know the real me.
Then he’ll either get over me, go home, and marry someone else.
Or I’ll walk down that aisle.
Rags to Royals is a modern royal romance with a feisty single mom, a golden retriever prince who falls first and hard, and lots of delicious dirty talk and spice on the page. It is the third book in the Royals Gone Rogue series, but can be read as a stand-alone.
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CHAPTER
Scarlett
I step through the back kitchen door and pause in the mudroom to kick off my work boots and strip out of my jeans and shirt. I toss them toward the hamper where all of my greasy, dirty work clothes go. Then I pad into the kitchen, barefoot, in only my panties and bra.
“Mariah!”
Greta’s car is here so I know my daughter and her girlfriend are not studying at Greta’s house. Which works out well. I need to know what the hell happened with Leah Lawton today.
I know that Leah is a thorn in Mariah’s side.
I also know that it’s my fault.
“I’m in here, Mom!” I hear Mariah answer from the living room.
“Want to tell me why Hannah Lawton is claiming I owe her sixty dollars for a new shirt for Leah?” I step into the living room. “And do I even want to check my email?”
I freeze two steps into the room.
Mariah and Greta are here, and while I don’t make a habit of parading through the house before heading to the shower, me in my underwear is also not a brand-new sight for them.
For Henry Dean though? Yeah. It’s new.
And since he’s currently sitting in one of our recliners, he just got an eyeful.
And then there’s the other guy. The one lounging in the other chair as if he has every right to be there and is perfectly at ease in my chair in my living room surrounded by my family.
Cian Fucking O’Grady is in my house.
His Royal Highness himself.
Looking the epitome of sexy, laid back, and devastating.
Devastating not just because of how handsome he is or because of how long it’s been since I’ve seen him. Or even because this morning I was a little worried about him. It’s truly because there is some kind of crazy chemistry between us. Again. Still. Evidently nothing about the weekend we spent together was a figment of my imagination.
I can still remember locking eyes with him from the stage and feeling this zap of awareness, this strange feeling of I know you and I want you that hit me out of the blue in a single moment.
It’s as strong right now as it ever was.
Probably because I do know him.
At least I know things about him. Like that no matter what we were pretending to be that weekend, he truly is charming, attentive, possessive, and funny.
Devastating.
Despite it making it so much harder to be resolute about not wanting him to find me, I’ve loved having that all confirmed via the podcast and online posts.
We had agreed not to give each other many details. Or so I thought. But it turns out, he wasn’t just role-playing as Prince Charming.
“Hi, Mom,” Mariah says into the thick silence. “I need to tell you about something that happened today.”
Is it that a royal fucking prince showed up on our doorstep? Or is it about some stupid shirt and that little bitch Leah?
But before I can respond, Cian mutters, “What the hell?” Then he’s suddenly on his feet and stalking toward me.
His big body blocks me from the rest of the room, and I realize that he’s trying to hide my partial nudity from the other man in the room.
For some reason—probably because my brain is spinning with a myriad of emotions I can’t fully process—I laugh.
He’s right in front of me, frowning down at me. He’s not touching me, but he might as well be. The heat from his body, and the intensity and sheer overwhelm of just having him here, seems to wrap around me and squeeze.
“Henry has seen every inch of Ruby, and we’re identical twins,” is the first thing I say. For some reason.
That does not amuse Cian. His brows slam together. He opens his mouth but says nothing. His gaze roams over my face. Then he closes his mouth, steps forward, wraps his arms around my waist, lifts me until my feet are dangling inches off the floor, and starts walking toward the kitchen.
It takes a second—or several—for my brain to catch up with what’s happening. Then I wiggle. “Hey! Put me down!”
“In a minute,” he says gruffly.
I look over his shoulder to see everyone in the room staring at us.
I narrow my eyes at Henry. “You’re dead to me,” I tell him.
He is the only reason Cian is here. He brought him here. After telling me—promising me—that he wouldn’t.
I look at my sister. Ruby looks slightly worried, and the way she’s curled up in the corner of the couch, away from Henry, makes me think that she’s not fully happy they’re here either.
Dammit.
It’s my fault they broke up. It’s my fault her heart’s been broken for the past month.
I’ve broken her heart before. I spent years afterward trying to make it up to her. Ruby has always been there for me. And now, because of me—because of Cian—Henry is back to potentially make that heartbreak worse.
So I stop straining against Cian and let him carry me into the kitchen. This is done. Henry told Cian where I am and now they’re here. Now I just have to deal with this. With him. And get rid of him as quickly as I can.
But as I let the feel of having Cian against me, the heat and firmness of his body sink into mine, his familiar scent, the feel of his arms around me, the actual impression of comfort which shouldn’t surprise me, and actually makes tears prick at the back of my eyelids, I realize I don’t know what to do.
But I’m not so sure that I can say goodbye to this man again.
He stops once we’re in the kitchen and lets my body slide down his until my feet touch the tile floor.
He doesn’t really let me go. He simply leans back. His hands go from my waist to my face, cupping my cheeks as he searches my eyes.
“Hey, Glinda.”
My heart flips and I feel my lips curl completely independent of my brain.
Glinda. The nickname he started using for me after I told him about my mother’s obsession with the Wizard of Oz and how when she found out she was having twins, and only one could be Ruby, she floated the idea of using Glinda for me.
Thankfully, my grandmother talked her out of it and convinced her to just find another word for red to go with Ruby.
Cian had been delighted to learn about my mother Judy Gale who grew up in Kansas and became obsessed with Judy Garland and the character of Dorothy Gale. She has several editions of the book, including a rare second edition. She also has the movie in various formats, along with so many collectibles she has an entire room in her house dedicated to the story of the girl who’d been swept away to the Emerald City, met an entourage of weirdos, and learned a huge lesson about home. She’d even owned a Cairn Terrier named, of course, Toto, when she was a teen who lived long enough to be Ruby and my first dog.
Cian had immediately latched onto Glinda as a nickname. He had also called me his “little witch” and his “good witch”, saying I’d enchanted him and put a spell on him.
Glinda had always come out with a note of affection that I had tucked into my heart. Hearing him use it now knocks several bricks out of the wall that I have tried to erect between me and this man.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say, shaking my head.
His hands cup my face, and his thumbs move over my cheeks. He gives me a small smile. “Really? You can’t believe it?”
“It’s been a long time. You should’ve moved on.”
“I don’t think that’s how this works.”
“One-night stands? Getting dumped?” But my voice lacks the snark I really should be using.
“We both know you didn’t dump me.”
“Then what was that sneaking out the next morning?”
“Running scared.”
I suppose princes are born with a little extra ego. I cock an eyebrow. “Scared of what?”
“Falling in love in less than seventy-two hours could freak someone out.”
I immediately start shaking my head, but he’s holding me so I can’t move much. See, this love thing is the whole problem. He told me he was falling and I…okay, I freaked out. “You’re not in love with me.”
His smile dies, but he continues to hold my gaze. “No, I’m in love with Ruby, right?”
Well, at least Henry explained that to him. “Yes.” I hate telling him that. But I wouldn’t change that weekend for anything. It was amazing, and if I had to do it again, I would. Exactly the way I had.
“I’m sorry I lied to you, but it was my chance to let go, to just be a little different than I usually am.” I pause. “Or a lot different.” I swallow. “I’m sorry I led you on.”
He studies me for a long moment.
Then he leans in and kisses me.
I probably should’ve seen that coming. But as soon as his lips touch mine, I have no choice but to kiss him back.
The heat between us arcs, sudden and sharp. Like someone touched a match to fuse. One of his hands tunnels into my hair, I arch closer, our mouths open, and our tongues tangle.
His other hand slips to my ass, pulling me up against him fully. My hands find his shirt and I am suddenly gripping it at the shoulders, trying to pull him in closer.
Just as suddenly he rears back. He doesn’t let me go though. He stares at me, taking in how fast I’m breathing, no doubt the flush to my cheeks and how my eyes have dilated.
Finally he says, “You didn’t lie about that.” His voice is rough.
I swallow hard and shake my head. “No.”
There’s no way I could have faked my physical response to him, and I won’t try to pretend otherwise.
“We need to talk,” he tells me.
His voice is firm, gruff, but I can tell that he’s very serious. This is not the laid-back playboy I had the best sex, and best time, of my life with. This is a determined man who is frustrated and maybe even a little angry with me. I couldn’t have imagined that before. He was fun, spontaneous, mischievous, naughty. But now, he seems…older. More mature. Harder even. But of course, there are sides to him that I didn’t get to know in those two and a half days.
A shiver goes through me. It’s probably a combination of trepidation and excitement. Getting to know other sides of Cian O’Grady could be very dangerous.
“Yeah, probably,” I finally agree. I push away and step back. “I need to shower. I just got home from work. I need something to eat, too. But then we can talk.”
His gaze scans over me and I suddenly remember I’m in only my bra and panties. My entire body heats as it remembers him—his touch, his mouth…other parts of him.
“It definitely wasn’t all fake,” he says.
I blush hotly. No man has ever known my body the way Cian did. Does. I certainly remember every minute of our weekend. Who knows how many women there have been in the past nineteen months, but there’s been no one for me. He was the last man to see me naked. Hell, he was the last man to kiss me. And he’s at least insinuating that he remembers things about that weekend too.
My body likes that.
My heart also likes it.
That is really, really bad.
“I’ll be back down in a little bit,” I choke out.
I spin on my heel and head for the stairs, not looking back, even as I feel his hot gaze on my back.
I get to the bathroom, shut the door, and lock it, then slump against it. I lift my hands to my face.
Honesty, transparency, being genuine and kind are all things I have been working on every day for the past fifteen years. Ironically, I let go of the honesty and being genuine and transparent for one weekend nineteen months ago and it turned out to be one of the best weekends of my life.
Now, the guy that I’ve told some of the biggest lies is back, demanding the truth.
I really do like the person I’ve become over the past fifteen years far better than the girl I was before.
But I also really liked the woman who spent that weekend with Cian O’Grady.
She wasn’t bad. Exactly. She just wasn’t the Scarlett Gale that I need to be to live in Emerald.
So, I need to get rid of Cian O’Grady. Once and for all.
Being a responsible human adult really sucks sometimes.
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AUTHOR BIO
Erin Nicolle is the new pen name for NYT and USA Today Bestselling romance author Erin Nicholas. While Erin Nicholas is known for her blue-collar book boyfriends and big, boisterous found families in small towns, Erin Nicolle writes rich and royal rogues. But they both love a dirty talking cinnamon roll, a grump who is reluctantly wrapped around a feisty finger, and a gruff, protective guy who falls first and hard.
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