Title: In Shining Armor
Series: Runaway Princess: Flicka #2
Author: Blair Babylon
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: May 8, 2018
Blurb
Flicka won’t allow herself to be terrified.
She’s on the run from her cheating, soon-to-be ex-husband Prince Pierre and his Secret Service, and she doesn’t have a passport,
credit cards, or money. She needs to get to Paris to talk to her lawyers about
divorcing that bastard.
The only thing standing between her and the
cheating prince is Dieter Schwarz, her bodyguard, her protector, and her
ex-lover. He’s six feet, four
inches of sarcasm, black humor, and rock-hard muscle. A former Swiss mercenary,
now he owns and operates Rogue Security—a band of former special operations
soldiers, SEALs, hackers, and spies—which will take any dirty covert operation
for the right price.
But the Secret Service is tracking her, and
even Dieter and the Rogues might not be able to keep her safe from her ex.
And once again, she’s falling in love with Dieter,
which might be the most dangerous thing of all.
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Excerpt
When Dieter
Schwarz dragged himself into Wulfie’s Kensington Palace apartment that fine
summer day, his ash blond hair was so short that he must have shaved his head
recently, as it was about the same length as his scruffy beard. He had one
black eye and scabbed-over scrapes covering half his handsome face, and one of
his muscular arms hung in a sling.
His gray
eyes held a feral savageness that looked like he would pick up a rare steak,
bite into it with his teeth, and rip it apart while he devoured it.
Oddly,
Flicka wanted to be the steak.
Dieter
dumped his only luggage, a small rucksack, on the floor.
Flicka’s
big brother Wulfram looked up from the book he was reading. “Good week?”
“The best,” Dieter answered.
From the
growl in Dieter’s voice, Flicka could hear that his body still coursed with
adrenaline, even though he must have flown home from wherever on a plane for
hours.
He shucked
his overshirt and stretched, standing in a tank top in the entryway. The sling
on his arm fell aside, and he flinched when he rolled that shoulder to loosen
it.
Flicka
couldn’t look away from the way Dieter’s round muscles stood out from his arms
and shoulders, thick cords and hard bulges that were so different from the
sinewy or stocky teenagers she had been living with at Le Rosey. When Dieter
moved his arms, stretching out kinks, those muscles flexed and moved under his
tanned and sunburned skin. The golden fuzz that covered the top of his chest
above his tank top looked soft, and Flicka could think of nothing else but the
way it would feel against her palms.
Dieter
asked. “How were the royal bodyguards, Wulfram?”
“Adequate,” Wulfram answered.
“I suppose that’s okay.”
Dieter
leaned over and picked up his rucksack.
When he
did, the muscles under the thin cotton of his tank top stood out in lumps that
Flicka could count. His webbed belt kept his black fatigue pants up, she
surmised, because his hips were slim. He looked like could have won any
athletic event or beaten any other man on Earth in hand-to-hand combat.
Flicka
couldn’t breathe.
She longed
to walk over to Dieter and touch his arms and his chest. She bet that he was
warm to the touch, with all those muscles working right under his skin like
that. His skin must be silky, or coarse—yes, coarse—and his hands would
probably feel callused and rough on her arms.
A flush ran
over her, a warmth that made her feel heavy and weak.
Dieter had
his backpack in his large, strong hands, and he was looking right at her. His
dark gray eyes settled on her skin, and she could almost feel his gaze. “Good to see you, Durchlauchtig.”
Her breath
seemed to have leaked out of her lungs, and she had to suck in some air to
answer him. “You, too, Lieblingwächter.”
Dieter
walked out of the room, stalking like a tiger.
The white
album of Flicka’s music school musings slipped from her arms and crashed on the
floor.
Wulfram
looked up from his book, one eyebrow raised.
Flicka told
him, “I’m going to attend the Royal
Academy, here in London.”
“Excellent,” Wulfram said, settling back into his book. “You can live here at Kensington with me. Security will be easier with
you in London, too.”
Yes, she
was counting on it.
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