A Prince to Call My Own

by Rebecca Paisley

Beautiful Trade Paperback Collector's Edition! Once upon a time… Peachy McGee has always dreamed of finding her own Prince Charming and living happily ever after. When an unscrupulous doctor tells her she’s dying, she resolves to live the last of her life to the fullest—and sets sail for the tiny island kingdom of Aventine to marry herself a prince.
But while Seneca, the heir to the Aventine throne, is wealthy and unbearably handsome, his aristocratic arrogance infuriates the flame-haired hellion. And Peachy is not about to let any domineering blue-blood have his royal way with her—not unless Seneca reveals the noble soul hidden beneath his guarded mask…and learns to love the charming country miss, outrageous quirks and all.
Rebecca Paisley is the bestselling author of Diamonds and Dreams, The Barefoot Bride, A Basket of Wishes, Heartstrings, Bed of Roses, Moonlight and Magic, A Prince to Call My Own and Happily Forever After .
“Rebecca Paisley makes your heart sing with joy! Her talent shines brighter than any diamond. Historical romance at its best!”— Romantic Times
“Charm, imagination and laughter! All you need is Rebecca Paisley!”—Lisa Kleypas, New York Times bestselling author
“Boldly goes where few writers go and she does it brilliantly!”—Eloisa James, New York Times bestselling author
“Rebecca Paisley is the Queen of unique and charming love stories!” Jill Barnett, New York Times bestselling author
“Rebecca Paisley dazzles the heart!” Teresa Medeiros, New York Times bestselling author
“One of the most talented writers in the genre, Ms. Paisley is an absolute delight to read! Once you’ve read your first Paisley, we can guarantee it won’t be your last!”— Historical Romance Writers

402 pages, Paperback

First published June 4, 2015

About the author

I wanted to write things ever since I learned to write my name. I started with letters to my grandmother like: “Der Grammey, I went on the ralerode trax today and finded a big pees of gum by the raleing. I piked it up and ate it. It was bananna. I chwed it till it did not have inymor flaver in it. Aftr I swaloed it I kind of thot I had sum majic in me frum the persen who first ate it. Mama sayed wat I did was veree nasty but I beeleeve in that majic.”

To this day, I remember that gum and the way it made me feel. I continued to write about things that happened to me. Sometimes they were pure non-fiction. But other times they were invented, like when I wrote a one page story about my father being Superman. He was an Air Force Fighter Pilot and often had to leave on secret missions he was forbidden to tell us about. He told us his Superman costume was hidden in the flight bag he always took with him when he left. So I wrote a page about how he didn't need his jet on that mission. No, he flew in the plain air and directed the other pilots where to go. Because of his instructions, all the enemies scattered and were never seen again.

And then I grew up and became a woman, but not before I wrote hundreds of stories. When I was about 28 or so, I wrote a very long historical romance…with my 2 year old son hanging on my leg the whole time. I sent that manuscript to every publishing house in NYC, and the editors rejected it every single time. You want to know why? Because I was writing what I thought the publishing houses wanted to buy. I was copying other authors’ styles. I didn't know any better.

After 17 rejections, I decided to write the book I wanted to read. Not a book for an editor or even readers. Freedom, at last! Freedom to invent characters that made sense to me. Characters whose thoughts mirrored mine, whose ways of doing things were my ways of doing things.

Whose hearts were offspring of mine.

I never thought to submit that manuscript to anyone. It was going to be mine, all mine, and no one else’s business because the heroine was so wild, so outrageous and different. She was not a romance heroine, Chickadee McBride. She defied every romantic heroine in the publishing rules.

But I did end up sending her and story in, and Avon Books bought her. The editor told me Chickadee McBride was a gamble, but Avon was willing to try her out. That book was THE BAREFOOT BRIDE.

After that sale, I never again wrote what other authors wrote. I stayed true to what I loved, what made me cry and laugh and be surprised. I never knew what my characters were going to do or why. I just wrote.

And eventually I became a Publisher’s Weekly Bestselling Author, which gained me a place on Romance Writers of America’s Honor Roll and the accomplishment of becoming a RITA finalist. I won Romantic Times’ Lifetime Achievement Award and Career Achievement Award as well as a Reviewers’ Choice Award for Historical Romance Fantasy and a Best Love and Laughter Award.

None of these things would have happened for me had I not decided to write a book that appealed to my quickness to laugh, my love for the outrageous, my deep sensitivity. . .

. . . or the belief that if I can dream it up, it can happen.