The Billionaire Prince’s Pregnant Fiancée by Leslie North

BLURB

A royal scandal leads to an attraction they can’t deny…

Reeling from the discovery that his father hid an older sibling from him, billionaire prince Benoit Georges Moreau goes undercover at a British newspaper to track his half-sister down. Unfortunately, the fiery reporter he’s assigned to work with recognizes him instantly. The jig is up—or is it?

Jane has built her whole life on seeking out the truth. After living in the shadow of her father’s lies for years, she leaps at the chance to uncover a royal exclusive. If she can help this handsome prince solve a decades-old mystery, he’ll let her break the story about this shocking royal secret. For Jane, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to advance her career as an investigative journalist.

But as they spend more time together, the fake relationship they craft to conceal Ben’s royal identity starts to feel all too real. And it quickly becomes impossible to deny the chemistry between them.

When the truth leads to betrayal, will their undeniable attraction be enough for them to take a leap of faith?

Grab your copy of The Billionaire Prince’s Fake Girlfriend

Available July 29th 2021

Available for pre-order now! www.LeslieNorthBooks.com

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EXCERPT

“I can’t thank you enough for letting me job shadow here at the London Current,” Prince Ben Georges Moreau told Susan, the newspaper’s human resources person. “I think I’ll be able to learn just what I need in this position.”

He felt itchy. It wasn’t a lie... not entirely. Granted, he wasn’t actually at the newspaper to job shadow. And she didn’t know that he was, in fact, a prince, and not just a “friend of a friend” that she currently thought he was. He was using the commoner name he’d used in uni to avoid attention, so that wasn’t a complete lie, either. Still, the near occasion of lying made him uncomfortable.

Considering what he really was doing there, though, he could hardly be forthright.

“Oh, it’s our pleasure,” Susan said with a broad smile. “Although I’m surprised you didn’t just shadow with Holly, over at the Fervian Times? She recommended you highly, by the way.”

He cleared his throat. “I really wanted to be here,” he said, which again was the truth.

Susan shrugged. “Well, London is like nowhere else,” she admitted. “And the Current is solid. Even if we don’t have the prestige of the Gazette or the Times, we do good work here. We’ve got a great investigative section, and our lifestyle section is award-winning.”

He nodded, trying not to seem impatient. He had signed up with the excuse of “job shadowing” because he hadn’t wanted to accept a paycheck for what would amount to espionage. He followed behind Susan, wondering how quickly and quietly he could access the records room. The sooner he got the information he needed, the better.

As they wove through the open-plan office, a maze of low cubicles and the clicking of keyboards, he noticed a woman on the phone. She had auburn hair, shoulder length, curling in waves. She tucked a wayward lock behind her ear as she spoke rapid-fire into her headset.

“I know, I know, you can’t say anything on the record,” he heard her coax, her bottle green eyes alight, full lips curved in a surprisingly alluring smile. “But surely you could say something off the record? Give a girl a hint?” She paused. “I should be an investigative reporter? From your mouth to God’s ear!” Then she let out a peal of laughter.

He frowned. Even in this chaotic environment, she looked like a live wire. And, he noticed, Susan seemed to be leading him right towards her.

“I’m afraid that I couldn’t have you shadowing any of our news crew or beat reporters,” Susan said, her gaze apologetic. “But Jane’s one of our best in the lifestyle and features section. If you want to learn the ropes in our business, you really couldn’t find anyone better. I’ve sent her an email, and once she gets off the phone, she’ll help you, all right?” Susan glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry, must dash. I’ve got a new hire coming in, and I need to get the paperwork sorted.”

“Of course,” he replied. “I really must thank you, again, for all of your assistance.”

“Aren’t you polite,” Susan said, her smile warm. “And so formal. Maybe you’ll rub off on our Jane!”

With that cryptic remark, Susan retreated, and Ben watched her go.

He was standing next to the cubicle, and the aforementioned Jane was still chattering away, taking notes in an indecipherable scrawl across a pad of paper. There was a vase of chrysanthemums on her desk in a variety of colors: white, purple, orange-and-red striped. They were a bright, brilliant cacophony... much like their owner, he thought.

Then he sneezed.

He grimaced, groaning to himself. No one else seemed to have flowers. Flowers probably shouldn’t even be allowed in the workplace. He sneezed again, wondering if she’d do anything.

All she did was glare at him, as if chastising him for having an involuntary allergic reaction.

It shouldn’t have annoyed him, but frankly, he was under enough pressure right now, completely out of sorts. He didn’t even want to be here, but he needed to, if he was going to find out the truth.

“So, Barry... how’s your wife? Your kids? They enjoying school?” she continued.

Ben’s temper rose. He was waiting patiently, and she was simply making small talk? What kind of workplace was this?

He cleared his throat—then sneezed again. And his irritation grew.

She held up her index finger as she kept chit-chatting about some party and other personal details. Frowning, she scribbled a note on a nearby pad and held it up for him to see. This could take a bit, he read.

After ten minutes, and near constant sneezing, Ben was livid. If he didn’t need this woman to keep up a semblance of why he was here—the job shadowing—then he’d have said the hell with it and searched out the records room himself. But he wanted to at least put in an effort, so he wasn’t completely lying.

There was nothing he hated so much as lying.

After his fiftieth sneeze, his temper snapped. It happened so rarely—he normally had a lot better control—but he had simply had it. He reached over, grabbing the vase and dumping it in a nearby wastebasket.

When he turned back to the cubicle, he saw the woman staring at him, a combination of amusement and shock on her face. “It’s been lovely catching up with you, too, Barry,” she said. “We’ll talk again soon.” Then she clicked off. “Well, well, well. You must be my new intern?”

“I’m just job shadowing,” he clarified. “Temporarily.”

“Good,” she said. “Because those were my favorite flowers, that I paid for myself, that you threw out.”

His cheeks flushed with a rush of heat. Maybe he was too used to being a prince, he realized. He was certainly not used to being ignored. He frowned. “I... I’m allergic,” he said, as if that were the only excuse he needed.

“And of course, it never occurred to you to ask,” she said slowly. “Or walk away until I was done with the call.”

He gritted his teeth. Actually, it hadn’t occurred to him. He was so fixated on her rudeness, he didn’t think to walk away.

“You held up a finger at me,” he said, “so you could chat up your friend while I was sneezing my head off.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Because—and pay attention, because this is part of journalism—what looks like small talk is important in developing relationships with your sources, especially in the lifestyle section.”

She seemed to be waiting for something, but when he didn’t answer, she tilted her head, studying him. “Well. You owe me a new bouquet, Your Majesty,” she said, in a sarcastic drawl.

He jolted before realizing she was being facetious. “My name is Ben,” he clarified. He realized he probably ought to apologize. It certainly wasn’t her fault that she bought flowers that he was allergic to, even if she had annoyed him by ignoring him.

“My name’s Jane,” she said, reaching out her hand. He shook it, and in that moment, her eyes widened with recognition.

Oh, no. He knew that look. And considering he both needed information from her, and he’d just managed to irritate her by throwing out her favorite flowers, he wasn’t sure how she was going to react. Maybe she’d just gloss over it. Maybe she’d preserve his privacy. Maybe she was a royal fan, and she’d help him out for that reason alone.

Or maybe you’re delusional.

“Your Majesty,” she repeated, then glanced around, standing and taking a step closer to her. “Or should I say... Your Highness?”

He closed his eyes. Crap. This was not good at all.

“Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” he said quickly. “There’s a café nearby, and I’d love to buy you something. And maybe we could talk.”

He couldn’t force her, but his words were firm. He hoped his eyes were conveying this was a very, very strong request.

She studied him, not intimidated in the least. If anything, she seemed amused.

“A cup of tea sounds just the thing,” she said with a smirk. “I’ll grab my coat.”

Grab your copy of The Billionaire Prince’s Fake Girlfriend

Available July 29th 2021

Available for pre-order now! www.LeslieNorthBooks.com