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If The Shoe Fits

The Wild Rose Press

Heat Rating: STEAMY
Word Count: 84,970
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A story of three women: two bound by blood, one destined to be queen.

For Celina, the magical night she met her prince ended in disaster, not happily ever after. Held captive by her family, she fears for the kingdom and the prince she loves.

Juliette is shocked to discover the glass slipper worn by Prince William's true love fits her foot. Now at the palace, she plots to escape the trap she finds herself in. Will the prince's handsome aide Robert Weston be a help or a hindrance to her plan?

Rosalind is furious she lost her chance for a royal marriage. Left to guard her stepsister, she manages the family estate with an attractive but antagonistic steward who sympathizes with Celina's plight.

With the kingdom threatened from dark magic within the palace itself, the three sisters must choose where their loyalty lies, with love or with power.

Excerpt

“Oh, gods, he knows!” When this got no reaction from her mother, Juliette continued, “You saw his face! Prince Will knows. He is writing the orders for our execution as we speak!”

“Get a hold of yourself, Juliette,” Beatrice commanded. “He won’t be executing us because he has no proof and he never will. The worst is over. We are in.”

Juliette placed a hand to her forehead, wishing that simple action could stop the blinding ache building behind her eyes. “Mother, we can still stop this. It isn’t too late. We can tell the king that it was all a mistake, an honest, regrettable mistake. Surely if we are truthful, he’ll—”

Beatrice cut her daughter off with a sharp gesture. “Whatever you are thinking, whatever you are planning, stop. If you don’t, I promise you will wish you had. I won’t sit by while that common strumpet is put on the throne.”

“What strumpet? You mean the girl the prince actually danced with? You don’t know she’s a strumpet or even a commoner for that matter…” Juliette’s voice died away as certain bothersome, curious facts fell into place. “He danced with Celina didn’t he?” The look on her mother’s face was all the confirmation she needed. “What did you do to her when you found out? Spelled the shoe of course, but where is she, Mother?” For the first time in her life she dared to lay hands on her mother, grasping her upper arm none too gently. “Where is she?”

With a look of pure fury, Beatrice jerked her arm away. “She’s quite safe I assure you.”

“Where?” The word was a shout, which did not faze the older woman in the least.

“Home, of course. Where Rosalind will make sure she stays. I mean to rule through you. You had better get used to it,” Beatrice stated in a matter-of-fact manner Juliette found maddening.

Shaking as temper coursed through her, Juliette could not string two coherent thoughts together, much less give them lucid expression. Yet one thing was clear, the last of her fear had dissipated, leaving rage in its place.