But I guessed she would never stop wanting more for me, more from me. Maybe that's what mothers did.

Mom was bossy. Even in print I could hear her tone, smugly congratulating me on already earning the prince's affections and telling me firmly to keep up whatever I was doing. Yeah, Mom, I'll just keep telling the prince that he has absolutely no shot with me and offend him as often as I can. Great plan.

I only really ever hug my mother. Is this okay?” he asked. I laughed. “It’s hard to get a hug wrong.

So here I was expecting at the very best a cordial welcome from the girls who were prepared to fight me to the death for someone I didn’t want. Instead I was embraced.

So far, I had a solid collection of my honest opinions.

He gave a dark chuckle. “But you’re not, so you had absolutely no qualms about kneeing me in the groin, right?” “I hit your thigh!” “Oh, please. A man doesn’t need that long to recover from a knee to the thigh,” he replied, his voice full of skepticism.

I had been so mad at him when I left, I'd given them back. All except for the one that stuck to the bottom of the jar. He smiled. "They're at home, waiting." "For what?" His eyes glittered. "That, I cannot say.