Anna Dynowski
to encourage and entertain
Love Never Fails
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be
afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord
your God will be with you wherever you
Joshua 1:9 (NIV)
Wanted: Royal Princess Wife
and Mother

An excerpt from

Chapter Two
  So this is how the other side lives.
  The circular foyer of Bellaterra Castle was stunningly beautiful with sparkling chandeliers, marble floors, and delicate
sculptures. Ornate tables, strategically positioned, held heirloom vases overflowing with fresh flowers picked, she presumed,
from the numerous flowerbeds on the palace grounds. Though she didn’t see the lilacs, she picked up their sweet scent
hanging in the air of the luxurious, but soothing entrance hall and she did a slow pivot, taking in her impressive surroundings.
  “May I help you?”
  Sofia spun around and slammed solidly into the man. He put a hand on her shoulder to steady her, but the hand, warm and
strong and solid, lingered too long.
  Feeling the heat of his fingers scorch through her navy blazer, she took a hasty step backward, breaking the searing
connection. She drew in a sharp breath, and adjusting the purse strap over her shoulder, locked her gaze on the man. Some
butler. The words floated into her startled brain.
  Tall. Sofia, wearing 3-inch shoes on her five-foot-five-inch frame, had to tip her head back to look at him. He was tall. At
least six feet of well-honed body. And all of that encased in an expensive black suit, crisp white shirt, and black-and-white
patterned tie. His dark brown hair, olive skin, and sharp cheekbones gave him a certain magnetism, combining power,
intelligence, and masculinity. His scent, sexy but not overpowering, wrapped around her senses. But his eyes… His eyes
imprisoned her. Darkly blue. Sensual. Arrogant.
  “Are you lost—” He glanced at her left hand clasping the purse strap, but when he lifted those blue eyes to her face, they
glittered with something she couldn’t identify. “—
  Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, her neck, her wrists. Her cheeks were on fire. “L-lost?” She heard a roaring in her ears
and she was breathless—all because of a casual encounter with the butler? Oh, she was so pathetic.
  Remembering the purpose for her being here, she put some starch in her spine and lifted her chin up a noticeable notch. “I
am looking for His Serene Highness, Prince Stefano, Crown Prince of Mondoverde,” she informed the royal servant with
what she hoped came across as a matching hauteur.
  One dark brow lifted. Of course, it would. She grimaced, working the purse strap with her thumb and forefinger. Of
course, the butler would know Prince Stefano was the Crown Prince. She didn’t have to spell out the full title, name, and
position to an employee of the palace. Her cheeks were already aflame, but that didn’t stop the heat of a fresh blush crawl up
her neck to stain the skin of her face, but she made herself hold the man’s probing gaze.
  “What business do you have with…Prince Stefano?” Though he spoke in a modulated voice, the air around them quivered
with a strange energy.
  “I am here to interview His Serene Highness.”
  If she’d ever get past all the royal red tape. She banked down, hard, on a fresh wave of irritation at the royal runaround she’
d been given for the past couple of days. When she’d finally managed to connect with the prince’s public relations
representative, after a zillion failed phone attempts from her hotel room, all he would say was His Serene Highness never gave
interviews, but he was scheduled to hold a press conference at the palace on Monday morning at eleven, and as a member of
the press, she was welcome to attend.
  “Are you now.”
  “’Scuse me?” When she zoned back in, she found the butler surveying her with a lazy appreciation. “Am I now what?”
What had they been talking about before she’d side-tripped into a replay of her frustration?
  “Here to interview the Prince.” The man gave her one of those not quite there smiles.
Oh-oh. Tread carefully.
  “Yes.” Sofia never lied, but though her answer was truthful, she felt another slap of heat on her face, and wished she hadn’
t said the word quite so fast. As if it was a weapon to be wielded to swashbuckler her way into the official residence of the
Mondoverduvian royal family.
  She upped the angle of her chin another inch. She was here to interview the prince, the fact she hadn’t been able to set it
up notwithstanding. She had a job to do and she would do it, come hell or high water. But she had no intention of thanking
her boss for this assignment. She felt no gratitude at the prospect of having to rub elbows with an arrogant, elusive-to-the-
media royal.
  “And you have an appointment,
Signorina?” Mischief sparked like blue fire in his eyes as he looked into her face, and
maybe right down into her soul where she stashed her deepest secrets.
Oh boy.
  She swallowed, willed her thrumming heart to beat at a normal rate. She’d thought she could fake her way in, secure that
interview, and then hop on the next flight out of Mondoverde. She bowed her head and concentrated on breathing, and trying
to detach herself from the insecurity that popped in for its regular visit. She reached deep within her. Like she always did.
And fingering the purse strap, fought back the plaguing emotion.
  She would not lie. Even to get the interview. Even if she lost her job. Even if it meant she would be unable to meet her
obligation. Lying did not fit who she was. She raised her head high. And hoped he did not see her fear. She stood, rigid on the
outside, trembling on the inside. She swallowed again, forced her throat to work. “No.” Her heart tripped as though it were
on a downhill nosedive.
  The man ducked his head briefly in a half-decent attempt to hide his grin of enjoyment. “And without an appointment,
Signorina, how did you expect to arrange such an interview with the…very busy prince?”
  Sofia blew out a breath. The butler was going to throw her out. No, he was much too well-trained for that. He would
simply take hold of her elbow in a firm grip, walk her to the front door with purposeful steps, open it with exaggerated pomp,
and propel her out with a strong shove. “I figured I’d work out the details as I went along.”
  Her comment surprised a laugh out of him, rumbling through the foyer, which surprised her.
Cara,” he said when he’d stopped chuckling, “what newspaper do you work for?”
The Polish Alliancer.”
  “You’re from Poland?” His chuckle had downgraded to a lady-killer smile and she turned beet-red.
  She was having some serious trouble ignoring her unexplained attraction to this man. “No.” At the quirk of his brow, she
added, “I’m from Toronto—that’s in Canada.”
  “I may…work here, but I do know where Toronto is,
Signorina,” the butler replied, his tone dry.
Excerpted from Wanted: Royal Princess Wife and Mother by Anna Dynowski                 Copyright 2014 by Anna Dynowski
Excerpted by permission by Write Words, Inc.                                                            All Rights Reserved