Title: A Tangled Legacy
Series: Legacy, Book One
Author: Mickie B. Ashling
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: August 6, 2018
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 70900
Genre: Fantasy, fantasy, intersex, magic, royalty, gay, age gap, witches and warlocks, bisexual
Synopsis
Prince Colin of Sendorra would have been
the spare instead of the heir if fate hadn’t intervened. Like his father and
forefathers, Colin is expected to marry and father a child or his principality
reverts to Spain at the time of his death. Filling the royal nursery with
healthy babies seems easy enough until Princess Charlotte—his childhood friend
and intended bride—breaks off their engagement.
Nobel Prize winner—and powerful gray
witch—Alain de Gris isn’t looking for love. Science and research have taken
center stage for years until he walks into a club and lays eyes on Colin,
thirteen years his junior.
Bisexual by nature, Colin seeks to avoid
another engagement repeat by shying away from a same-sex relationship. There
are no acceptable alternatives to provide legitimate offspring if he follows
his heart.
But Colin can’t stay away from Alain and
the witch finds him irresistible. Ignoring the absolutes isn’t easy when a
legacy is in jeopardy. And while magic may offer a solution, it could also
create more problems.
Excerpt
A Tangled Legacy
Mickie B. Ashling © 2018
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
Colin
I slipped through a break in the
eight-foot hedge that separated my granny’s rose garden from our garage. It was
the same gap I used whenever I snuck out of the palace. Familiar with the
prickly branches, I knew how to get through without a tear or a scratch. My
bodyguards would be frantic the minute they realized I was missing, but the
chance to sample nightlife as an ordinary man instead of a prince was too
tempting.
Saddled at birth by a title I didn’t
deserve, I’d spent all my life trying to convince everyone, myself included,
that I had a right to exist. It wasn’t my fault that my twin, older by five
minutes and thus the legitimate heir apparent, had been stillborn. Survivor’s
guilt weighed heavily on my psyche, although it was pure chance that he died
and I didn’t.
More than likely, the problem had lain
with my method of conception. That story was glorified in the annals of our
nation’s history. Male pregnancy had been risky from the word go, and no one
knew this better than the man who gave me life, my father’s consort, Errol, the
Duke of Maitland. He was a commoner who’d received the title after he married
my other father, Prince Sebastian, who was heir apparent at the time. They’d
been delighted to welcome me into the world, but it had been bittersweet after
they were informed that my brother hadn’t made it.
Nonetheless, I was loved and pampered
from the moment I first opened my eyes. Everyone doted on me, and I had a
wonderful, albeit lonely, childhood. Once in a rare while, someone heartless
would point out that I was the spare who’d usurped his brother’s title, but the
incidents were few and far enough apart to be ignored.
Of course, no one bothered to ask me how
I felt about having two dads and no mother. Not that they were bad parents—far
better than most, or so I’d been told—and my granny, the Dowager Princess
Alexandra, and her ladies-in-waiting provided all the feminine influence I
could possibly need, but that didn’t stop me from wondering if I’d be a
different person had I been created conventionally.
As things stood, I was determined to
cram as many life experiences as possible before assuming the throne.
Hopefully, my father, the current ruler, would live well into his seventies so
I could achieve my goals. Since my twin was watching me from somewhere beyond
these earthly boundaries, I wanted him to take comfort knowing I was doing a
fine job with the role I’d unintentionally usurped.
My red Beemer purred to life, and I
inched my way out of the garage, hoping no one would hear the engine. Most of
the staff had already gone for the day. It was late, way past dinner, and the
odds of being stopped were slim. Thankfully, my exit was uneventful.
I drove slowly until I hit the open road
and gassed the engine when the palace faded from view. Dancing was on my mind,
and the songs blaring from my radio helped to put me in the right mood. Since I
had succeeded in a clean getaway, I decided on something different tonight.
There was a new club in town—one that catered to a sexually fluid crowd—and
this would be the perfect opportunity to check it out.
My interest in exploring my gay side
wasn’t something new. I’d been attracted to both sexes growing up but had chosen
my childhood friend, Princess Charlotte of Navarre, for my future bride. My
fathers had been delighted, but they warned me things might change. A first
crush seldom worked out, they’d cautioned, but I was determined to make it
work, and thus avoid the complications that might arise from a same-sex union.
Rather than risk another man’s life, or that of my unborn child, I would go the
conventional route and marry a woman. Charlotte was the perfect choice, until
she wasn’t.
My best friend, the sweet girl who’d
promised to be my forever love, no longer held my interest, nor I hers. Our
recent breakup—remarkably amicable thanks to multiple shots of vodka—signaled
the end of childhood dreams and aspirations. And now, I was single again,
trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. Until I turned
twenty-one. Then the invisible clock would start ticking, and pressure to marry
and begin a family would escalate.
At the club entrance, I scanned my
surroundings. Across the mass of heaving bodies, someone caught my eye. The
stranger’s dark hair was combed back, probably tied in a low tail, but I
couldn’t say for sure. He was surrounded by people but ignored the crowd after
our eyes locked. Even from a distance, the tingling in my groin led me to
believe we’d be a good fit.
My royal status precluded random
pairings as the inevitable fallout would be disastrous in more ways than I
could count; however, the intensity in the brunet’s gaze was pushing me to
break a few of my own rules tonight.
I was wearing a tight navy-blue sweater
to complement my eyes, and a pair of skinny jeans. The sweater’s fabric stuck
to me like a second skin, the perfect showcase for hard-earned shoulder and arm
muscles. My blond hair was chin length, and I normally tucked it behind my
ears. Even though I’d been told many times that it needed to be at least two
inches shorter, I resisted because it was one of the few things in my
regimented life I could control.
As next in line to the throne, I’d been
brought up with a strict code of conduct, and I did my best to adhere to
tradition. But with my formative years behind me, there was less room for
mistakes. Eyes were on me twenty-four seven, and slipping through the
proverbial cracks was always a thrill. My energy was on high alert tonight.
Although I had Prince Sebastian’s fair
coloring, I was built more like my other father, Errol. My wide shoulders,
narrow waist, and muscular thighs combined with my height—six two on bare
feet—were imposing, especially in formal attire. My facial hair was more a
heavy scruff than a beard, but it was a disguise I’d adopted after my sixteenth
birthday. Some know-it-all mentioned I was too young to be in such a position
of power. The beard seemed to have the desired effect, adding the necessary
years and a certain flair that drew men and women in equal measure.
My stranger disappeared from the dance
floor, and I headed toward the rear of the club. There was a room, where one
could presumably get more intimate, and I glanced around, hoping to spot him.
He seemed to have vanished. Irritated that he’d eluded me, I went back to the
main area and ordered a beer and a shot. Killing time until someone else caught
my eye, I ordered another one-and-one after inhaling the first, and one more
after that. The sudden buzz didn’t do much to improve my mood. I’d been looking
forward to a few hours of mindless fun, and sex had been high on my list.
I cleared my tab with cash to stay
incognito and decided to make one more attempt to find the brunet. As soon as I
entered the dark room, I felt the man’s presence. He was leaning against a
wall, staring at me with purpose. We met halfway, and I was hypnotized by
catlike eyes, an interesting mix of browns and greens. The chemistry between us
was sending shock waves directly to my groin. I didn’t want to appear
inexperienced, but I hadn’t been with a guy in a long time, and I was nervous.
It took a boatload of willpower to keep up my cool façade.
Finally, the stranger broke the silence.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
Circling my waist with strong arms, he
dragged me against his body. We were the same height, and as our mouths got
closer, so did our hips, but I avoided his kiss. I wasn’t ready for that yet
and hoped he’d get the message. Without faltering, my hookup deftly moved to my
neck and slowly licked his way up to the outer shell of my ear, whispering
dirty nothings along the way. I could feel the barriers crumbling as my need
took over, and the next time he tried to kiss me, I let him.
His lips were surprisingly soft, but
stubble against stubble was a sensation I’d never felt before. Gradually, I
responded to his questing tongue and let his strong hands clutch my ass cheeks
and drag me against his growing erection. The jolt of desire made him reckless.
“Can we get out of here?” I asked
hopefully.
“You bet,” my mystery man answered. He held
my hand and led me toward the exit. A few seconds before we’d made a clean
getaway, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. David, the royal event planner,
and his partner, Sam, stood in our way.
“What are you doing here?” David asked,
ignoring the guy beside me.
I was surprised to see him and went on
the defensive. “None of your damn business.”
David was visibly shocked by my
combative attitude but stood his ground. “You’ll be sorry in the morning.”
“Take your hands off him,” the stranger
snarled. “He’s with me.”
“Look,” David said, trying a more
amicable approach. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, and he’s obviously
had too much to drink.”
“He gave me a clear message, and I’m
acting on it.”
“Think again.”
Sam and David sandwiched me and headed
toward the exit. My hookup was probably fuming, but our connection had been
broken, and I couldn’t find the energy to put up a fight. David got behind the
wheel of the car, and Sam sat in the back seat beside me.
After a few mild protests, I slumped
against Sam and drifted off…
Purchase
Meet the Author
Mickie B. Ashling is the pseudonym of a
multifaceted woman who is a product of her upbringing in multiple cultures,
having lived in Japan, the Philippines, Spain, and the Middle East. Fluent in
three languages, she’s a citizen of the world and an interesting mixture of
East and West. A little bit of this and a lot of that have brought a unique
touch to her literary voice she could never learn from textbooks.
By the time Mickie discovered her talent
for writing, real life got in the way, and the business of raising four sons
took priority. With the advent of e-publishing—and the inevitable emptying
nest—dreams of becoming a published writer were resurrected and fulfilled in
April 2009.
Mickie discovered gay romance in 2002
and continues to draw inspiration from the LGBTQA community and their ongoing
struggle to find equality and happiness in this oftentimes skewed and
intolerant world. Her award-winning novels have been called “gut-wrenching,
daring, and thought provoking.” She admits to being an angst queen and making
her characters work damn hard for their happy endings.
Giveaway
