year her then fiancé Simon Reynolds was crowned King of a tribal kingdom after spending years building on the work started by his late father to establish a technology centre in the Volta region of Ghana.
When Kate and Simon married, in an extraordinary cathedral wedding in Hampshire in June, their very special guests included the village’s paramount King and his entourage. They had been so impressed with Kate’s dedication and commitment to their area that the King decided to bestow this unique honour on Mrs Reynolds.
Kate Reynolds then travelled to Ghana and was made Queen, before Kings, chiefs and elders from across Ghana, together with her father Tom, younger sister Gemma, and hundreds of citizens, colleagues and well-wishers.
In a tradition known as the Enstoolment Ceremony Queen Kate received blessings before being presented with her official tribal clothing—golden slippers, a very special Kente woven toga and a golden crown, before feasting and dancing late into the night in one of the largest celebrations to be held in the area for many years.
It is understood that Queen Kate has already begun her royal duties by working on a new school for handicapped children in the district.
The Prince’s Forbidden Love
RAYE MORGAN
About the Author
RAYE MORGAN has been a nursery school teacher, a travel agent, a clerk and a business editor, but her best job ever has been writing romances—and fostering romance in her own family at the same time. Current score: two boys married, two more to go. Raye has published over seventy romances, and claims to have many more waiting in the wings. She lives in Southern California with her husband and whichever son happens to be staying at home at the moment.
Raye Morgan’s most recent novel is
Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride,
which was available in February.
Dear Reader,
Weddings are wonderful—white lace and promises. Summer and spring weddings are the best with bridesmaids in pastel colors and pictures taken on wide, sweeping lawns. What might be even better? Royal summer weddings, of course. The gowns are even more elaborate, dripping with crystals and seed pearls and antique Victorian handmade lace. The men all look so dashing, like a casting call for Cary Grants. The tiny flower girls are so adorable with their baskets full of petals. But best of all—there are princes and princesses everywhere. Magic!
Why do we love royalty? I think we catch royal fever from fairy tales we hear as children. Those princesses rarely get caught mopping floors or doing dishes— unless named Cinderella. They spend their time getting fittings for ball gowns and dreaming that someday their prince will come. And when he shows up, the adventures and romantic intrigues begin! The entire production captures the imagination and sends it into the clouds.
And then we grow up and read the tabloids and realise those royal people aren’t so different from the rest of us after all. In fact, they often seem so much worse! Still, they’re royal. That sets them apart, and the dream that starts in fairy tales lives on.
I hope my story captures the dream for you.
All the best!
Raye Morgan
This story is dedicated to Kirsten, our own princess
CHAPTER ONE
CROWN PRINCE ANDRE RASTAVA of the Royal House of Diamante, rulers of Gemania, was bored, and when he got bored he tended to get restless. The noise of the crowd in the casino was giving him a headache, and he found himself shrugging away the caresses of the exotic lady who had draped herself up against his body like a sleazy silk scarf.
What was her name again? It didn’t really matter. Lately the women had become as interchangeable as all the other decorative items in his life. He couldn’t tell one from another.
“Your Highness?” the croupier nudged, waiting for his call.
He glanced back at the roulette wheel and shrugged, pulling his tie loose and shoving back the sleeves of his Italian suit.
“Let it ride,” he said, his voice hoarse. It hardly mattered if he won or lost. He wasn’t really here for the gambling. Though few around him realized it, he had a far more dangerous game to play. That usually kept his attention razor- sharp.
But for some reason not tonight. Maybe it was the early spring heat wave coming in on the winds through the high mountain pass and numbing his senses. Or maybe it was the throbbing pain from the shrapnel that still lodged in his leg from the near miss he’d had in the explosion of his car the previous year. Or maybe he was just getting tired of this