"The Prince I Love to Hate is an absolute must read! This romcom will have you rooting for Niamh and Olivier right from their hilarious first meeting. - Harlequin Junkie Blog top pick This prince? He’s anything but charming. I’ve never been the girl who’s dreamt of a prince rescuing me from a fire-breathing dragon before whisking me away to his castle. So when I fly all the way to Ireland to find my long-lost dad, I have no intention of playing the damsel in distress to some dude. But the night I encounter—and accidentally wallop upside the head—Prince Olivier of Salasia, my plans are completely upended. This prince is the opposite of charming, though. After thirty seconds in his presence, I want to feed him to a dragon. But fate is a fickle b*tch. Before I know it, I agree to team up with Olivier in the search for my dad. As I travel across Europe with this actual honest-to-god prince, I wonder, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like I’ll be stupid enough to fall in love with Prince Charming."
View MoreA coffee addict and cat lover, USA Today bestselling author Iris Morland writes sparkling, swoon-worthy romances, including the Flower Shop Sisters and the Love Everlasting series.If she's not reading or writing, she enjoys binging on Netflix shows and cooking something delicious.Sign up for my newsletter to stay up-to-date with new releases, sales, and exclusive giveaways! Facebook Twitter BookBub Goodreads Instagram
The Prince I Love to HateThe Princess I Hate to LoveSay You’re MineAll I Ask of YouMake Me YoursHold Me CloseWar of the RosesPetal PluckerHe Loves Me, He Loves Me NotOopsie DaisyincludingThen Came YouTaking a Chance on LoveAll I Want Is YouMy One and OnlyThe Nearness of YouThe Very Thought of YouIf I Can’t Have YouDream a Little Dream of MeSomeone to Watch Over MeTill There Was YouI’ll Be Home for Christmas
When I imagined my wedding night, I never expected that I’d be standing outside my beloved wife’s bedroom door, pounding on it to let me inside.“You can’t avoid me forever!” I pounded my fist one last time against the expensive wood.“Of course I can. Have you seen this place? It’s fucking huge!”I heard what sounded like rustling. I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against the door. I’d imagined helping Niamh out of her wedding dress, but here I was, a dog barking at the door to be let in.“Niamh,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “We need to talk.”“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m tired. Go away.”I growled. I jiggled the knob, but it stayed firmly locked. Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I turned to see my secretary Arthur Laurent, who was studiously avoiding looking at the locked door.“Would you like me to procure the key from Madam LeRoux, Your Highness?” he asked in French. While I spoke English solely with my American bride, I rarel
I spent the next two weeks at the estate. I spent a lot of time in bed and the rest of the time either in the library or wandering along the beach.One day I went to the spot where I’d first met Olivier when he’d been playing gardener, but the plants in question had been moved elsewhere. It was just as well. I didn’t need any more reminders that he existed.“He sounds like a bloody idiot,” Liam had said to me multiple times now. “Not worth your time. He can go rot.”Mari, Liam’s wife, had taken a more measured approach. “It sounds like he cares for you, and he was clearly in shock. Plus, if what your dad said is true…” She’d given Liam That Look, and he’d just grunted.Liam hadn’t been overly thrilled with the news of our sharing DNA with the Salasian royal family. He’d at first said that Da had just been spinning tales to mess with everyone. But when I did some more research here at the estate, I discovered that Da hadn’t been pulling our legs at all.Da was the cousi
Cara met me in at the entrance to the estate before I’d even toed off my shoes. “Ma’am, Mr. Valady wants to speak with you immediately in the library.”I grimaced. “Thanks, Cara. I was going to go search for him anyway. When did he arrive back here? Do you know?”“He arrived before you left for your appointment, I believe.”So he’d made a point to avoid me. Great. “Oh, well. We must’ve missed each other.” I turned to go upstairs, but I looked over my shoulder to add, “Can you bring up coffee and snacks in, say, an hour? We’ll probably need it.”“Of course.” She bobbed a curtsy and hurried off. Despite my best efforts to tell all the employees here that they absolutely did not need to bow and curtsy, habits died hard. Olivier had seemed to instantly feel comfortable with the show of deference. He’d make a better owner of this grand estate than I would, that was for sure.I walked up the stairs slowly. My body felt heavy, like all of the revelations had physically weighed it down. M
I was frazzled when I arrived the following day at Da’s. I’d woken late, my phone not going off for some reason. Olivier had gone for a walk, so he hadn’t been there to wake me. I’d hurried through my shower and had almost forgotten my wallet. I had to run back inside the estate, nearly mowing over poor Cara in the process.Now sitting once again in Da’s apartment, I waited for him to make me a tepid cup of tea for a second day in a row. The clock still sat on the coffee table. I had the urge to wipe down the surface of the table. Surely the clock was too valuable to sit on a bunch of cigarette ash and wrappers.Da handed me my cup of tea that tasted like dishwater. After lighting a cigarette, he said, “Do you know who your companion is?”The question startled me so much that the tea sloshed in its mug. Luckily it wasn’t too hot, but I had to dab at my jeans with a stray fast-food napkin as my mind whirled.I decided that honesty was my best bet here. “Yes, I know
Two days later, we were back in Dublin. Rain poured from the sky as we traveled to my da’s last known address. Located on the west side of Dublin, it took about a half hour to get there from my grandda’s estate.No, my estate. It was mine in all but name. Once I found my father and Mr. McDonnell had the proof he needed—what that would entail, I had no idea—it would be mine.When I’d been little, Liam had told me a few stories about our dear ole da. He’d been reluctant to share them, as if by talking about Connor Gallagher, it would somehow make his abandonment of us acceptable. I’d cajoled and begged Liam to tell me anything. I’d heard stories of Mam, but not Da. If he was included in a story, it was only in passing.“He was a drunk and he left,” Liam had said gruffly. At the time, he’d been visiting me in Olympia, where I lived with my aunt and uncle. I’d started second grade the month before, and I’d been waiting for Liam to visit for weeks.“Mam must’ve liked him,” I point
I woke to the sound of rain. Yawning, I stretched my arm across the bed, only to find myself alone. Olivier must’ve returned to his room. Disappointment slashed through me, until a minute later the door unlocked and he came bearing coffee and pastries.I might be able to resist an actual prince, but I couldn’t resist a handsome man bearing food. He smiled at me as he handed me a latte.“I bought a few different pastries,” he said, “since I wasn’t sure which one you’d like.”My eyes lit up as I looked at the array of food. I ended up choosing one that looked like a coffee cake but was denser and had sliced almonds scattered across the top. Olivier chose one that had strawberries and strudel as its topping.After we finished eating, Olivier said, “How are you feeling?”I almost blushed like a schoolgirl. The night before came roaring back, and I could almost feel the sensations he’d awakened in me again.“Um, fine. You?”He licked his thumb. “I woke up with a major cas
“You have saved me, Your Highness.” Stefan bowed low. “My daughter will never forget this night. So, the information you require in exchange for your service tonight.”As the taxi passed through the city, I gazed at the documents. The documents that included my father’s address. Or at the very least, his last known address.And because my life was absurd, Connor Gallagher just so happened to be living in Dublin, Ireland.What an asshole. He was right under our noses the entire time.“You don’t seem pleased,” said Olivier as we took the elevator to our hotel rooms.I blinked. “What? Oh. No, I’m pleased. We got what we came for.” I folded up the papers, handing them to Olivier, but Olivier pressed them back into my grasp.“This is your father, Niamh. Not mine. Aren’t you excited? Happy?”At the moment, I only felt tired. Tonight had been so emotionally draining that I struggled to feel anything about this.It should feel like a victory. We should be toasting each othe
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.The Prince I Love to HateCopyright © 2021 by Iris MorlandPublished by Blue Violet Press LLCSeattle, WashingtonCover design by Qamber DesignsAll rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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