Flicka von Hannover was a princess, but not anymore, sort of. To hide from her conniving soon-to-be ex-husband and divorce him as soon as possible, she runs to the place specified by her prenuptial agreement, Las Vegas.
She has left everyone and everything behind except Dieter Schwarz, her bodyguard who saved her that terrible night and smuggled her to Paris and now to Nevada. Living with the six-four, ripped, bossy Swiss mercenary is driving her crazy in more ways than one. Every time he comes near her, she wants to rip his clothes off with her teeth.
Her ex knows that she must be in Las Vegas to establish residency to divorce him, and his men are looking for her. When his Secret Service try to kidnap her and Dieter saves her again, the adrenaline and heat of the moment are too much for them to resist.
But her ex knows that she has to file the paperwork to divorce him, and he’ll do anything to stop her, even mounting an assault with his army on the courthouse when she tries to go to court.
When an actual prince—who has a Secret Service, an army, and real spies—is hunting you down, you run, and you hide IN A FARAWAY LAND.
“All rise!” a woman’s loud voice said. “The court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Malone, presiding.”
Flicka stood, and her lawyers around her did, too.
A sparrow-like woman flitted up to the judge’s seat and scowled at them all. She spoke rapidly in a voice shaking with age. “Court will come to order. First case is Grimaldi versus Hannover. It appears that your prenuptial agreement is in order and very specific. Ms. Friederike Hannover—”
One of Flicka’s lawyers stood. “If it please the court, it’s Her Serene Highness Friederike von Hanno—”
Flicka grabbed his arm and yanked him back into his chair.
Joachim reached behind Flicka and backhanded the guy on his arm.
The grumpy sparrow judge glared at Flicka’s table. “Were you interrupting me to say something?”
“No, ma’am,” Flicka said.
“Good. Quite an entourage you have there, Ms. Hannover.” Judge Malone glanced over at Pierre’s table. “And you have a crowd, too. Oh, great. I was hoping to start the day with a damned goat rope.”
Flicka didn’t know if roping a goat was a good thing or a bad thing, but the lady judge sounded sarcastic when she said it. She should ask Rae about it later.
The judge scowled at the paper she held. The paper rattled in her grasp. “Ms. Hannover is the plaintiff, and I have your affidavit of residency and a dated water bill in your name to back it up. Excellent. Residency requirements have been met.”
One of Pierre’s lawyers rose. “Madam judge, my client, His Serene Highness Prince Pierre Grimaldi is not a resident of Nevada nor the United States, and thus this court does not have the jurisdiction to grant a divorce.”
Judge Malone peered at him over the top of her bench. “Was your client served with a summons and a notification of the divorce within the allotted time frame?”
“Yes, Your Honor, but—”
“No buts. He doesn’t need to be a resident. She is, and she’s the plaintiff. Her residency gives this case jurisdiction.”
“But she’s not a US citizen,” the lawyer argued.
“Doesn’t matter. For the purposes of this court, she’s a resident of the state of Nevada.” She squinted at him. “Have you been admitted to the bar in the state of Nevada?”
“No, Your Honor. But—”
“I said, no buts. Bailiff, escort this person unknown to the court out of the courtroom.”
A uniformed bailiff strode to the lawyer’s side and walked with him out of the courtroom. The heavy door slammed at the back.
Judge Malone asked, “Anybody else want to say the word ‘but?’”
USA Today Bestselling Author Blair Babylon is an award-winning author who regularly publishes contemporary romance and romantic suspense fiction. After writing literary fiction where reviews usually included the caveat that there was too much deviant sex, she decided to abandon all literary pretensions, let her freak flag fly, and write hot, sexy, erotic romance with crazy, breakneck plot turns.
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