Royal Trouble: A Naughty Prince Meets His Match
She tossed her handbag on the bed and flopped down face-first onto the pillows, groaning into the fabric.
Then her phone rang.
She grabbed it lazily, expecting her mother or maybe Becky. Instead, Vicky’s voice exploded through the speaker.
> “ARIEL! Where are you? We came to your place, but your mom said you’re busy preparing for your wedding—” Vicky’s voice cracked into disbelief—“Your WEDDING?! Girl, who are you even marrying without telling us?”
Ariel groaned louder, sitting up and clutching the phone.
> “Oh, Vicky… you won’t believe this madness. Do you remember Prince Carl? The arrogant, rude, walking disaster I told you about?”
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