His Royal Highness Dumbass

There were exactly 113 things she’d rather be doing than fix up His Royal Dumbass’s life. Drinking wine. Calling her sisters. Helping with Sutton’s upcoming wedding. Rewatching Pride and Prejudice, the 1995 mini-series, obviously, because Colin Firth was seriously fucking hot. He could get himself into her bed any day. He might be in his sixties, but he was one of those men who got better with age. Plus, there were the rumors about his sex life… yes, please. What had she been thinking about? Oh, yeah, things she would rather be doing… filing her taxes. Going to prison. Now, she would have to admit, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d almost gone to prison. She really should have been born a redhead instead of a blonde. Her temper did get the best of her sometimes. But no. Keira Warner, age twenty-four as of precisely six days ago, thank you very much, was yet again sitting in her converted corner cubicle outside the Crown Prince’s inner office, replying to reporters about the latest in