The Fisherman Prince

By Rebecca Milton

The love of her life has died. After wandering around for five years she returns to start her life again. Is this possible?

Can love, true love, be found twice in a lifetime? Most likely not, but, if you find a prince, perhaps it is possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AmorBooks.com
• Release date: Jan 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005446239

Rebecca Milton

Rebecca Milton writes sizzling erotica and romance for the thinking person. On her free time she enjoys taking her Alaskan Malamute for long, long walks. He enjoys it too.

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The Fisherman Prince

by

Rebecca Milton

Copyright 2022 Rebecca Milton

Distributed by Smashwords

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Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content and is intended for those over the age of 18 only.

***

I had married young. My husband was considerably older than me. Although he was very wealthy, that was not what had interested me in him. I married for love.

I married Erik because he was charming, worldly, patient, supportive and because he wore hats. I don’t mean this in a euphemistic way. People who undertake many tasks are often said to wear many hats. This was not the case with Erik. He was an extremely successful business man. He was the CEO of his company and that was his job. His one job. He wore crisp, sharp, expensive suits. Smooth, soft, million thread cotton shirts, silk ties and... hats.

I met Erik in SOHO, in a gallery where my dear friend, Martin, was having a showing. As a courtesy to me, because he liked me and my work, he allowed me to hang one of my pieces toward the back of the gallery. Martin’s work was exceptional, I was a huge fan and I was honored that he would allow me to have a spot in his showing. I attended, helped set up and moved around, talking to people, tending to the needs of wealthy patrons and helping Martin sell many of his pieces.

It was a very well attended showing and I was happy for him. I knew that from here, he would explode onto the art scene. I was moving through the crowd, tossing away plastic wine glasses, answering questions about the work. I had spent no time in the back, with my own piece. I didn’t mind, it