Fake Dating the Prince by Ashlyn Kane

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Release Date (Print & Ebook) June 18, 2019

Length: 55,000 words

Tropes: fake dating, “platonic” bed sharing, royal/commoner romance

When fast-living flight attendant Brayden Wood agrees to accompany a first-class passenger to a swanky charity ball, he discovers his date—“Call me Flip”—is actually His Royal Highness Prince Antoine-Philipe. And he wants Brayden to pretend to be his boyfriend.

Being Europe’s only prince of Indian descent—and its only openly gay one—has led Flip to select “appropriate” men first and worry about attraction later. Still, flirty, irreverent Brayden captivates him right away, and Flip needs a date to survive the ball without being match-made.

Before Flip can pursue Brayden in earnest, the paparazzi forces his hand, and the charade is extended for the remainder of Brayden’s vacation.

Posh, gorgeous, thoughtful Prince Flip is way out of Brayden’s league. If Brayden survives three weeks of platonically sharing a bed with him during the romantic holiday season, going home afterward might break his heart….

Amazon | Dreamspinner | Barnes & Noble | Indigo Books | Target

 

Dear Love Bytes readers,

Hi! My name is Ashlyn Kane and I’m here spreading love and laughter via my new book, Fake Dating the Prince. In it, flight attendant Brayden Wood gets swept off his feet by a guy he finally realizes is a real prince—right before his appointment for a suit fitting at the royal tailor….

Flip usually favored a traditional-style dinner jacket, but this time Bernadette had done something a little different—a matte jacket in the darkest blue, without lapels, almost Nehru style, with a polished-looking trim. Wearing it, he looked much like his father. The blue complemented his dark skin in a way he had often avoided in the past, tired of reading about his divided loyalties in the press, as though he was less Lyngria’s prince because his father was Indian, as though he couldn’t love two countries and cultures at one time.

The Flip in the mirror now seemed to prove he could.

He shot the cuffs enough to show off the national flower and stepped out of the dressing room just in time to hear Bernadette ask, “Left or right?”

Still on the podium in his underwear, Brayden seemed perplexed. “Um? I think that one might be lost in translation.”

Flip fought down a blush. Maybe he could escape back to the dressing room unnoticed?

But no, because Bernadette looked up just then from measuring Brayden’s inseam, looked right at Flip, and switched to English. “Left or right?” she repeated, winking at Flip. “You know, when you dress. Which way do you… tuck?”

Brayden’s mouth dropped open. “I… that matters?”

Flip wanted to groan. Tailors asked that question so they could measure an inseam without accidentally copping a feel. But Brayden was out there in his underwear—Bernadette knew exactly where his dick was. She just had a sharp sense of humor when it came to her craft.

Bernadette nodded seriously. “Yes, of course. One leg will be sewn slightly wider to accommodate… you.”

Now Brayden threw his arms wide in exasperation, showing off excellent muscle definition across his back, shoulders, and chest. Flip swallowed. “What kind of guys have you been dressing, if you have to put extra dick room in their pants?” He gestured down at his boxer briefs, which hid nothing—not that Brayden had anything to be ashamed of. “I mean, you can basically see it. It doesn’t need its own trouser leg.”

Flip raised a hand to his mouth to smother a laugh. He didn’t want Brayden to think he was laughing at him—or at his dick, which Flip was trying very hard not to look at.

Bernadette similarly restrained herself, though she did betray the sliver of a smile. “They’re very closely tailored trousers, Mr. Wood.” She indicated his underwear with a tilt of her head. “These will be quite unsuitable. I’m sure Antoine-Philippe can vouch for that.”

Damn her. Now Brayden turned to find Flip watching him, only Brayden didn’t seem at all concerned about it. In fact, though his eyes widened and his cheeks went even rosier, the slack set of his mouth and the way he licked his lips suggested an entirely different emotion from embarrassment.

“Oh my God. I cannot believe I didn’t know you were a fucking prince. It’s basically tattooed on your forehead. I am an idiot.”

Flip had to clear his throat. An answering heat rose in his own cheeks. “I take it you like the suit.”

“Let’s just say I am regretting my choice to stand here in my underwear.” Brayden put his palm over his face, but a second later he put it down again and grinned. “Bernadette, can you make me look that good?”

“I’m a tailor, not a miracle worker.” She rose from her crouch with more grace than Flip expected and smiled at Brayden. “But I think I can work with these materials.” She gestured to indicate—well, Flip assumed she meant Brayden’s hair, his smile, his physique, his general unassuming charm.

Brayden fist-pumped. “I am gonna look bangin’.” Then he glanced sideways at Flip. “I mean, I will look totally appropriate for a prince’s escort.”

Flip would probably be lucky if he didn’t show up in a leopard print, from Bernadette’s gleeful expression. She loved crafting suits for him, but as a member of the royal family, Flip couldn’t wear anything too flashy. She’d have more fun with Brayden. He looked forward to the results.

Having finished with her measurements, Bernadette let Brayden down and sent him to the fitting room with a few more-or-less stock garments to double-check the accuracy. Bernadette opened the blinds, and Flip unlocked the door, only to find his driver and bodyguard, Celine, wearing an apologetic expression.

Resigned to his fate, Flip opened the door. “Your demeanor suggests my free morning has been rescheduled.”

“Apologies, Your Highness.” She sounded as contrite as she looked. “Only your aunt called. Apparently Princess Clara is having a difficult time, and she wondered if you might stop by, seeing as you have a special bond.”

A special bond. Flip supposed that was what developed between members of the aristocracy who were deemed unsuitable for rule by right-leaning media. Flip failed to impress them, being gay and having the wrong color skin for European royalty. Clara, on the other hand, had been born with a congenital limb defect, and was—or would be, one day—a woman, to boot. Hardly an improvement over the current monarch and her prince consort, from a Neanderthal’s point of view.

Flip would have liked to spend the morning with Brayden as he’d planned, maybe even have lunch with him somewhere and go over what he could expect on Friday night. But Clara was, and might remain, his heir, and he knew a little about being a royal brat. She had to come first.

“I’ll go, of course,” he said, holding in a sigh. “Let me finish here and I’ll be ready.”

 

Fake Dating the Prince releases June 18. It is available at Amazon, Dreamspinner, Barnes & Noble, Indigo Books, Target, and (this just tickles me, so I have to mention it) at the Dayton Public Library—so you’ll want to check your local library too!

ASHLYN KANE is a Canadian former expat and current hockey fan. She is a writer, editor, handyperson, dog mom, and friend—sometimes all at once.

On any given day she can usually be found walking her ninety-pound baby chocolate lapdog, Indy, or holed up in her office avoiding housework. She has a deep and abiding love of romance novel tropes, a habit of dropping too many f-bombs, and—fortunately—a very forgiving family.

 

Twitter: @ashlynkane

Facebook: www.facebook.com/ashlyn.kane.94

Website: www.ashlynkane.ca