âA great storyline, interesting characters and a fast pace help immerse readers in this tender tale.â
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âQuite humorous at times, with beautifully written characters, this is a terrific read.â
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âSolidly plotted, with an edgy, slightly abrasive heroine and an equally unforgettable hero, this story is a great read. Donât miss it.â
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â ⦠reading her books [is] a delightful experience that carries you from laughter to tears and back again.â
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HOLLYN Elise Phillipa Saldani always did what was expected of her. As next in line for the throne of the tiny Mediterranean principality of Morenci, sheâd known from an early age what her duties entailed and sheâd followed them to the letter. Which was why her driver looked at her as if she were speaking a language other than the four in which she was fluent when she said, âTake me to the airport, please.â
âThe airport, Your Highness?â Henry asked.
She settled back in the plush leather seat of the limousine and fussed with the folds of her full skirt. Even though her heart was hammering, Hollyn said with characteristic calm, âYes. The airport.â
Henry wasnât mollified. He lifted one bushy eyebrow and inquired, âAre we picking up a passenger, then, on our way to the annual garden party? The queen didnât mention it.â
No, indeed. Her mother hadnât mentioned it, because Olivia Saldani wasnât privy to Hollynâs last-minute change in plans.
âWe are not picking up a passenger.â Hollyn moistened her lips. This was it. There would be no turning back once she said the words. Once she gave the edict, her will would be done. âYou are dropping one off. Me.â
Henry cleared his throat. âI beg your pardon. I must not have heard you correctly.â
âYes, you did.â Despite her nerves, she smiled. âYour hearing is as good now as it was when you caught me trying to take out the Bentley with cousin Amelia when I was sixteen.â
âYour giggles gave you away, Your Highness.â
She sighed. âItâs just Hollyn.â
But she hadnât been âjust Hollynâ in too many years to count. Not to Henry or the other people who staffed the royal palace. Or the citizens of the small kingdom that she would one day rule. To them she was Princess Hollyn, daughter of King Franco and Queen Olivia, next in line to the Morenci throne and rumored to be soon engaged to the son of one of the countryâs most celebrated and dashing young businessmen.
Duty. She understood it and accepted it. But that didnât mean she liked it. Or that she didnât wish, sometimes, that she could be an ordinary young woman, living a simpler life.
Holly.
The nickname whispered from her past, beckoning from across the Atlantic. She allowed herself the luxury of recalling the boy whoâd called her that. In her memory, a pair of wide-set brown eyes crinkled with a smile that also caused his cheeks to dent.
At fifteen, Nathaniel Matthews had been surprisingly self-assured and determined to break free of the small community the past two generations of his family had so eagerly embraced. Sheâd found the tiny island tucked between Canada and America in Lake Huron a paradise.
Sheâd spent five summers on Heart Island, so named because of its shape, living in anonymity and loving every minute of her unregimented life. No teas or cotillions to attend. No fussy state dinners. And no boring garden parties where more eyes would be focused on her than the blooms.
âThe airport,â she said again. âA plane is waiting for me.â
Not the royal jet, but a private one sheâd chartered for this trip. In the rearview mirror, she saw Henryâs brows draw together. His perplexed expression was endearing and nostalgic. She remembered that look of concern from the days when heâd taught her to drive on the palace grounds. Afterward, she and Henry had laughed like a pair of loons at her exploits, which included an encounter with a bee-infested log. It was doubtful this day would end with much mirth.
âIâm leaving, Henry.â