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The Princess in Peril
publish date:
2026-01-13 07:00:00Candice's P.O.V.
The phone message was like a threat in the dark van, and I shuddered with the words "bring the princess this night" and Mantovani, though the desert heat, grabbed it, and grew black with anger as he scanned encrypted messages, and found them plotting my abduction--roads, dates, even a picture of me at the villa garden--and the intrigue was going on, and I found the sheriff had eyes on the prize, and he may even have them with us at the moment. We galloped back to the
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Falling for My Biker Stepbrother Canvas and Courage
Candice’s P.O.V.The gallery in Lisbon was small, tucked into a narrow cobblestone street lined with lemon trees and pastel buildings. Soft evening light spilled through the tall windows, illuminating Isabella’s paintings on the white walls. Tonight was her first solo exhibition, and the room was already filling with quiet murmurs of admiration, the clink of wine glasses, and the occasional flash of a camera.I stood near the back with Mantovani’s arm around my waist, watching our niece (the girl who had once been a frightened bargaining chip) move through the crowd with quiet confidence. At twenty-two, Isabella had grown into a young woman with sharp cheekbones, ink-stained fingers, and eyes that saw the world in layers of color and shadow. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose braid, and she wore a simple black dress that somehow made her look both elegant and completely herself.One of her largest pieces dominated the far wall: a stormy sea
Falling for My Biker Stepbrother The Sound of Home
Candice’s P.O.V.Five years after we first stepped off that plane in Portugal, the villa had become more than a house. It had become the heartbeat of our family.I stood on the terrace at twilight, watching the sky turn soft lavender and rose while the sea whispered below the cliff. Liora, now seven, chased fireflies across the grass with her little brother Rafael toddling after her on chubby legs, both of them laughing so hard they kept tripping over their own feet. Rafael’s dark curls bounced with every step, and Liora’s voice carried on the breeze as she called back to him, “Slow down, Rafi! You’re going to fall!”Mantovani’s arms slid around me from behind, warm and strong, his hands settling gently over the small swell of my third pregnancy. This one was a girl. We had not picked a name yet, but we both already knew she would be fierce and kind, just like her mother and her father combined.“Beautiful e
Falling for My Biker Stepbrother The Sound of Forever
Candice’s P.O.V.The summer we renewed our vows for the second time, the lilies on the cliff had grown so thick they spilled over the edge like a white waterfall tumbling toward the sea.I stood on the terrace in the same simple white dress I had worn the first time, barefoot again, the fabric fluttering around my knees in the warm breeze. My belly was round with our third child, a little boy we had already decided to name Rafael. Liora, now four, ran ahead of me in her flower crown, scattering petals she had picked that morning. She kept looking back to make sure I was following, her dark curls bouncing, her laugh bright enough to light the whole cliff.Mantovani waited at the far end of the terrace, exactly where he had stood the first time. He wore the same loose white linen shirt, but now it fit broader shoulders that had filled out with health and peace. The silver in his hair had spread, giving him a distinguished look that made my stomach flutter every time he smiled at me. His
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Candice’s P.O.VTwo years after we planted those first lilies, the cliff garden had become something wild and generous.The original bulbs had multiplied into drifts of white trumpets that spilled down the slope toward the sea, mingling with wild rosemary and sea lavender that had taken root on their own. Every spring they bloomed thicker than the year before, as if the ground itself remembered how close we had come to losing everything and decided to give us beauty in return. I walked among them barefoot most mornings, coffee in one hand, the other resting on the gentle swell of my second pregnancy. This one was a boy, already kicking like he wanted to join the world early.Mantovani found me there just after sunrise, moving with the easy stride he had reclaimed over time. The limp was gone. The cane lived in the hall closet beside the old rifle we both hoped would never be needed again. He wore loose linen pants and an open shirt, the long silver scar ac
Falling for My Biker Stepbrother Echoes in the Garden
Candice’s P.O.V.Three years after we planted those first lilies, the cliff garden had become something wild and generous.The original bulbs had multiplied into drifts of white trumpets that spilled down the slope toward the sea, mingling with wild rosemary and sea lavender that had taken root on their own. Every spring they bloomed thicker than the year before, as if the ground itself remembered how close we had come to losing everything and decided to give us beauty in return. I walked among them barefoot most mornings, coffee in one hand, the other resting on the gentle swell of my second pregnancy—this one a boy, already kicking like he wanted to join the world early.Mantovani found me there just after sunrise, moving with the easy stride he had reclaimed over time. The limp was gone. The cane lived in the hall closet beside the old rifle we both hoped would never be needed again. He wore loose linen pants and an open shirt, the long silver sca
Falling for My Biker Stepbrother Lilies in Full Bloom
Candice’s P.O.V.Six months after the wedding, the lilies we planted on the cliff bloomed for the first time.I found them at dawn—tiny white trumpets unfurling against the dark soil, fragile and defiant, exactly like us. I stood barefoot on the dew-wet grass in nothing
Falling for My Biker Stepbrother The Quiet After
Candice’s P.O.V.The first full month in Portugal passed like a slow exhale after years of holding our breath.We didn’t rush anything. Mantovani’s body still needed time—stitches dissolved, bruises faded to pale yellow ghosts, and some mornings he woke stiff
Falling for My Biker Stepbrother The First Day of Always
Candice’s P.O.V.I woke to the sound of the sea and the steady beat of Mantovani’s heart beneath my cheek. Sunlight poured through the open balcony doors in warm, lazy streams, painting the white sheets gold and turning the room into something soft and dreamlike. For one perfec
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Candice’s P.O.V.The morning of our wedding dawned soft and golden, like the ocean itself had decided to gift us the perfect day. I stood on the terrace in bare feet, the stone warm beneath my soles, wearing a simple white dress that fluttered around my knees in the sea breeze. No ve
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