LOGINSynopsis - Isabelle Ellwood, a plain, fuller-figured 19-year-old, hides her poetic soul and dreams of teaching behind dry wit, overshadowed by her beautiful sister who is counted as a family jewel for her grace and beauty and an ambitious father dreaming of snagging a royal title. When Prince Sebastian Nathaniel Winthorne, a bold, dark, and formidable warrior-king at 30, announces a bride-selection season at Cresthaven Palace, Isabelle dares to hope—not for love, but to glimpse the scarred-handed savior of her childhood. Unbeknownst to her, and him, he’s Sebastian, whose commanding presence and passionate heart blind him to her worth, fixated instead on the angelic Amelia Everhart, Isabelle's dearest friend. A secret library meeting shatters Isabelle’s illusions: Sebastian seeks her help to woo Amelia, praising her mind yet oblivious to her love. Their friendship deepens—his admiration grows, her longing festers—culminating in a rain-soaked confrontation where the lavender and breeze ignites his primal desire, clashing with her insecurities. Public scorn and familial cruelty drive Isabelle to flee, forcing Sebastian to confront the void she leaves. As time apart unravels his obsession with Amelia, he pursues Isabelle, his awakening raw and relentless. Their reunion at a glittering ball sparks a dance of resentment and longing, leading to a climactic confession where love triumphs over doubt. Isabelle’s journey from invisible dreamer to empowered princess, and Sebastian’s shift from idealized obsession to soul-deep love, crafts a tale of unseen hearts finding their place—a fiercely unique love story for readers craving wit, angst, and romance. In the opulent yet unforgiving world of Regency-inspired Eldoria, The Crown's Wrong Kiss weaves a slow-burn romance of unrequited love, repressed desire, and transformative self-worth.
View MoreThe palace gardens sprawled like a tapestry of verdant hues beneath the spring sun, alive with the gentle sway of flowers and the distant murmur of courtiers promenading along graveled paths. Isabelle stood with her sketchbook clutched against her chest, trying to appear composed as Sebastian paced before her, his tall frame casting a shadow that seemed to follow her wherever she moved.“A picnic,” Sebastian declared, hands clasped behind his back, “is the perfect setting for furthering my acquaintance with Miss Everhart. Intimate yet proper. I require your guidance, Miss Ellwood.”Isabelle swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. “Of course, Your Highness.”She had become an architect of her own suffering, designing each interaction between the prince and her friend with painful precision. Yet she could not deny him anything—not his requests for assistance, not the flutter of her heartbeat when his gaze met hers, not the silent agony of watching him pursu
The sudden shift in his demeanor caught Isabelle off guard. “Of course.”“When I was sixteen,” he began, “I was desperately in love with Lady Margaret Beaufort. She was nineteen, beautiful beyond words, and utterly indifferent to my existence.” A self-deprecating smile curved his lips. “I wrote her poetry so terrible it would make your ears bleed. I sent her flowers, gifts, notes—all returned unopened. Finally, I cornered her at a garden party and declared myself, certain that my persistence would be rewarded.”Isabelle leaned forward despite herself, captivated by this glimpse into his past. “And was it?”Sebastian laughed, a short, rueful sound. “She looked me directly in the eye and said, ‘Your Highness, I would sooner marry my father’s stable boy than bind myself to a man whose only accomplishment is his birth.’”Isabelle gasped softly. “How cruel!”“But accurate,” Sebastian countered. “I was arrogant, entitled, convinced that my title alone made me worthy of her affection.” He sh
The palace library had become their sanctuary. Isabelle found herself there again, seated at the mahogany table across from Sebastian, her fingers tracing idle patterns on a sheet of parchment as she contemplated his latest request.“A locket for Amelia?” she repeated, keeping her voice steady despite the small fissure forming in her heart. “Yes, I think that would be quite perfect.”Sebastian’s face brightened with that boyish enthusiasm that made her chest ache. “You believe so? I thought perhaps it might be too forward.”“Not at all.” Isabelle reached for a fresh sheet and began to sketch. “Something delicate, I think. Gold, with perhaps a rose engraved upon it.” Her pencil moved with practiced ease, creating the outline of an oval pendant.“A rose,” Sebastian mused, his voice warm with approval. “Amelia mentioned once that roses were her favorite.”Of course , Isabelle thought bitterly. I was the one who told him that, three meetings ago. But she merely nodded, adding details to h
“I’m glad to be of service.” The words tasted bitter.“Would you… would you help me craft this into something worthy of her? I know it’s an imposition—”“Not at all,” Isabelle said, too quickly. “Though I should—” She stopped, searching for an excuse.The library door swung open abruptly, and Priscilla swept in, her golden curls bouncing with each step. “Isabelle! Mother is positively seething. You refused the gown she selected and now you’re wandering the palace corridors in something so—” She stopped short, finally noticing Sebastian standing by the window.“Your Highness!” Priscilla dropped into a deep curtsy, her cheeks flaming. “I didn’t realize—forgive my intrusion.”Isabelle closed her eyes briefly. Of course. Her mother had sent Priscilla to drag her back for another lecture on propriety and appearances.“No intrusion, Lady Priscilla,” Sebastian said smoothly, though his brow had furrowed. “Your sister has been kind enough to assist me with a matter of correspondence.”Priscil
The grand ballroom of Cresthaven Palace glowed beneath the light of a thousand candles, their flames dancing upon crystal chandeliers that hung like constellations from the gilded ceiling. Music swelled from the orchestra positioned at the far end of the hall, the melodious notes floating over the
“They say he’s quite particular,” one matron informed another. “Turned down three princesses from the continent last year alone.”“Well, after what happened with his brother, one can hardly blame him for being cautious,” her companion replied, lowering her voice. “Though thirty is rather old to rem
The gilt-edged invitation had promised grandeur, but nothing had prepared Isabelle for the overwhelming presence of Cresthaven Palace. As their carriage approached through the immense iron gates, she felt herself shrink further into the shadows of the velvet-lined interior. “Sit up straight, Isabe
Excused from the discussion, Isabelle slipped away to her bedchamber, where she retrieved a letter that had arrived the previous day. Settling in the window seat, she broke the simple wax seal and unfolded the single sheet of paper. My dearest Isabelle,You will never believe the news! My father r






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