Prince Albert (A Step-Brother Romance #4)

King Leopold is probably going to have a coronary.

I try to stifle my giggle, covering my mouth with my hand, but wind up snorting, which makes it worse. It’s terrible, and awful, and the most ridiculous thing imaginable.

And so incredibly inappropriate.

But it’s somehow just right.

Albie takes my hands, and the murmurs from the crowd begin to quiet. It’s not even time for the vows, but he speaks. “I know this is off script,” he says. “But I’d like to say my vows now, if that’s okay.”

He’s asking permission from Fake Elvis to go off-script at our wedding.

The thought sends a ripple of laughter through me again, and when I try to hold it in, my eyes water.

“I know you’re all shook up by this grand gesture,” Albie says. And I snort. Out loud.

I try to glare at him, but find it impossible to be angry.

“On a serious note,” Albie says, clearing his throat. “People have an idea about how relationships should be. Boy meets girl, they fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after. Nothing about our relationship has happened the way it’s supposed to. We got married first. And you couldn’t stand me.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I say, and the crowd laughs.

“But then we fell in love,” Albie says. “And here we are, getting married for real this time. But that night in Las Vegas, when it was just the two of us – and Fake Elvis – that was the night I first fell in love with you. And as ridiculous as it might be, that’s where we began. And I never want to forget it.”

Albie pulls me forward, his lips close to mine, and now we’re really off-script, but I don’t care.

Fake Elvis says, “Well, you may kiss this hunk of –“

And I do.

Before Elvis even finishes, Albie pulls me against him and brings his lips down on mine. And when I close my eyes, it’s like kissing him again for the first time – butterflies in my stomach and the world spinning around me. Except this time, that’s not because I’ve had five shots of tequila in the back of a limo in Vegas.

This time, it’s because I’m undeniably, head-over-heels, irresistibly in love.

And I’m not the least bit nervous about showing it.

In front of God and all of these witnesses.

Including Fake Elvis.





THE END


I hope you enjoyed Prince Albert! Your copy of this book includes a bonus book, Tool: A Stepbrother Romance! Continue going to access that book, if you haven’t read it!





AUTHOR’S NOTE

Prince Albert has been brewing in my head pretty much ever since I published my last stepbrother book. It’s the most ridiculous, over-the-top, and totally implausible story I’ve written. And I hope you love it.

The country, Protrovia, is fictional.

And there’s more sex than you might be used to from my books. For that, well, I can’t say I’m all that sorry.

This edition of Prince Albert also contains another full-length book! Continue forward to read Tool: A Stepbrother Romance or Click Here

to be sent directly to the book. Enjoy!





OTHER STEPBROTHER BOOKS

All of my stepbrother books are standalone novels with HEAs and are not part of a series.

Prick

Tool

Cannon





OTHER BOOKS


West Bend Saints Series


Elias

Silas

Luke

Motorcycle Club Books

Taming Blaze

Saving Axe

Breaking Hammer



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ABOUT THE AUTHOR



Sabrina Paige writes about smart, sexy women and the hot alpha males who love them. Outlaw bikers, cowboys, and military men make her swoon. She has found her own happily ever after with her active duty military husband and adorable toddler.



I would love to hear from you!

Email: [email protected] Website: www.sabrinapaigeromance.com

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TOOL



Sabrina Paige





I call him “Tool” because he’s a prick.

Gaige O’Neal is nicknamed “Tool” because of what he’s packing. Rumor is that he’s well equipped.

He’s a cocky, entitled, insufferable jerkwho’s as reckless with women as he is with that stupid motorcycle he races.

It's been four years since I've seen him. Four years ago, he was the bane of my existence. And my best friend, my biggest confidant, my first love.

My stepbrother.

It’s just my luck that the first time I see him in four years, he’s buried beneath three scantily clad blondes.