Royal Escape: Royal Escape, #1

By Ember Casey and Renna Peak

Prince Nicholas of Montovia only wants one thing—some peace and quiet. When he buys a ranch in Firebird Falls, Montana, he's looking for an escape from the drama caused by his royal siblings. Out here, he's just Nick Smith—a happy loner just looking to blend in with everyone else.

Clara Weaver is looking for her own escape. When her car runs out of gas in Firebird Falls, she sees it as a sign. Even though she's never set foot on a ranch before in her life, she decides to answer a job posting for a ranch manager, which leads her to the town's mysterious newcomer, Nick Smith. She's determined to build a new life for herself here—and bring the grumbling, brooding Nick along for the ride.

Both Nick and Clara are looking for new hope in Firebird Falls. But as they learn to live with each other, one question haunts their new lives—how far will they go to protect their secrets?

Royal Escape is part one of a six-part serial and ends with a cliffhanger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Casey Peak Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Jun 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386980278

Book preview

Nicholas

The man behind the counter eyes me warily for a moment before his eyes widen with recognition.

Shit, I think to myself. I know that look. I suppose I shouldn’t have thought I’d be able to keep my identity a secret in this small town, but I also didn’t think I’d be outed so quickly.

He rubs his white beard before he grins. You’re the fellow who bought the Crowley’s place, aren’t ya?

I give him something of a weak smile as I nod, still unsure if he’s truly recognized me or not. I’ve gone to some lengths to keep my true identity a secret—not that who I am is a big deal. It’s more that I don’t want to have to think about it.

I’m Bill. Bill Barnes. His smile widens as he holds an arm out, almost like he’s some sort of television host. Owner of William’s Feed and Supply.

I give him another nod, not saying anything. I’ve been working hard on my American accent, but it still isn’t quite right.

What’d you say your name was again?

Nick. There. I said something. If I keep the words short and to the point, I just might be able to pull it off.

He nods, rubbing the heel of his palm against his jaw again. That’s right. Nick Smith. He chuckles. I didn’t think the Crowley’s would ever sell. He grins again. But I guess you already knew that.

I give him a single nod as I head over to the shelves holding the grocery items.

Part of me still can’t believe I did this. I’ve been fantasizing about it for years—buying a huge parcel of land for myself and living alone on it. Of course, it had to be somewhere no one would find me. No one from the media, at any rate.

I’ve never been one to crave the spotlight. I’d much rather be alone, and the past few years have been far too…interesting, at least for me. I’ve watched my three older brothers find their true loves, marry, and have children, though only one of them did things in that particular order. Even my younger sister found herself married before she was sure she’d found her true love.

I rake a hand through my hair at the thought. I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time worrying about the needs of my family these past few years, and I couldn’t take it any longer. We might be royal, but we’ve all the same problems of any other large family. My father is the king of Montovia, a small country nestled right in the center of Europe. I’m certain the chap watching me choose my provisions couldn’t even locate it on a map.

Not that any of that matters now. I’ve taken on a new identity—Nick Smith. Not Nicholas, fourth child of King Edmund and Prince of Montovia. No, now I’m the person who purchased a huge ranch , knowing little about how to run it.

And by the way this Bill person is watching me, I know I’ll have to order my sundries online from now on.

I put a few things in my basket. I suppose I should have planned a bit better—perhaps learned to cook a few things before I left Montovia. But it was getting almost intolerable in the palace, large though it may be.

I take my groceries to Bill, and he punches the prices into the old register.

You have a liking for macaroni and cheese, do ya? The older man grins as he puts the items into a sack. This stuff’ll kill ya, you know.

I give him a small shrug. The less I speak, the better.

You hire anyone to help you out yet? He cocks his head as he looks over at me. You won’t be able to run that ranch on your own. Not if you’re planning on getting cattle.

My shoulders rise into another shrug. I hadn’t really even thought about the fact that I’d need anyone to help me. And maybe I don’t. Just because I have a huge ranch doesn’t mean I have to do anything with it.

You’ll at least need a ranch hand. Help you with the horses and such. He tilts his head. You do have horses, right? You can’t exactly get from one end of that land to the other without one.

I lift a brow before I open my mouth to speak, but Bill doesn’t let me get a word out before he continues.

"No way a truck makes it across that land. Muddy as hell in the spring as the snow melts off, but I guess you already know that. He smiles. Look at me, trying to tell you what to do. Sorry. But if you wanna put up a flyer on that board… He crooks a finger at a cork board near the exit. You never know. Being’s how this is the only store in town, and the only place to get gas for a hundred miles on this highway, people come through here pretty often. They might see your sign and… His voice trails off, and he shakes his head. There I go again, telling you what to do."

I hand him a few bills to pay for my goods before I head to the door. I stop and look at the other items pinned to the board. Most are innocuous enough—cattle for sale, tractor for rent. But I certainly don’t see any help-wanted sorts of ads.

Do I even want help? I’m not so sure I do, but perhaps Bill is right—maybe I should try to hire someone to help. If nothing else, they can take care of whatever it is the ranch needs so I can be truly alone.

I scribble an advertisement on one of the notecards Bill keeps in a container near his bulletin board. As I do, my stomach balls into a knot at the realization I might actually have to have another person taking care of things. I’ve wanted so badly to just be on my own—to have a huge space all to myself. To not have to interact with anyone, maybe even for the rest of my life. I’m suddenly feeling rather stupid. I could have purchased a mansion on the beach, but instead, I bought a ranch in Montana, knowing nothing at all about ranching.

I sigh as I pin the card to the board. Maybe if I’m lucky, no one will apply at all.

Clara

When I see the gas station up ahead, I nearly cry with relief. My tank has been on empty for almost three miles now, and my cell service keeps going in and out. I’m not sure what I would have done if I’d ended up stranded on the side of the road in the middle of God-knows-where. My GPS hasn’t had a signal for over an hour. I remember crossing the border into Montana several hours ago, but other than that, I have no idea where the hell I am.

Which is good, because it means Adam has no idea, either. Or my parents. Or anyone else I left behind.

I’m just cresting the hill when my car begins to sputter and shake.

Hold on just a minute longer, I beg. We’re so close.

The sputtering gets louder. I press my foot on the gas pedal, but my car doesn’t like that. It lurches forward once and then comes to a stop, and the engine shuts off without any fanfare.

Damn it. I bang my hand against the steering wheel. I’m so close to the gas station. Only about a block away—or what would have been a block back home in New York City.

It’s not home anymore, I remind myself. I may never go back there again.

With a sigh, I climb out of the car. At least I don’t have far to walk. Hopefully they’ll have a gas can I can buy. I didn’t think to purchase one before I made my mad escape. I didn’t think about a lot of things. Halfway through Ohio I realized I’d forgotten my laptop. In Illinois I noticed that I’d only packed one pair of socks. In South Dakota I remembered that I hadn’t left a message for Karen at work. Hopefully she’ll have heard by now.

I glance down at my phone as I walk toward the gas station. There aren’t any missed calls from Karen. But there are four from my mom and two from my dad. And thirteen from Adam. No service, though, so for the moment, at