Royal Pickle: A Romantic Comedy IS LIVE!!!! Thank you to author J.J. Knight for sponsoring today’s newsletter, celebrating her latest standalone release!! P.S. I love her own “personal limerick” story below!!! 😛
He’s a prince who can’t keep his pants on. She writes dirty limericks in a Brooklyn deli. Their spontaneous royal wedding is a match made in mayhem.
I have to find a wife.
And not just any wife.
A love match.
My parents gave me ten years to find a princess on my own, and the deadline has arrived.
I’ve outrun the palace guards for months, but due to an incident with a rooster Speedo that went viral, they have tracked me to America.
I’m not known for my stellar taste in the opposite sex. The last one put my naked pictures on Instagram.
But there is this one girl. I saw her in a New York deli making sandwiches. She helped me escape the photographers.
Smart. Beautiful. Quick-witted.
Yes. I choose her.
Now all I have to do in convince her to marry me.
In the next seven days.
Okay so now… a seriously fun fact by the author!!!!!!
In fourth grade, my teacher Mrs. Wallace issued a limerick challenge. Whoever wrote the most limericks by the next day would win.
We’d just learned the style. Two rhyming lines, two more, then a final one that rhymed with the first. The cadence was very particular.
A few kids whispered something about a man from Nantucket, but I didn’t catch the whole thing and I wasn’t the sort of kid who got in trouble. The way Mrs. Wallace shut them down with a stare meant I was going to stay far away from Nantucket and anything that rhymed with it. Bucket? That didn’t seem so bad. Still, I got teased a lot already, so I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.
This is an era before the internet. Before computers. There was no Rhymezone, offering up all the potential rhymes to a word.
I had to do it the old-fashioned way, running through the alphabet. At. Bat. Cat. Drat.
Mrs. Wallace said the previous years’ record was seven limericks in one night. Could anyone beat that?
I had no idea. I’d never written a poem.
I want home and quickly wrote the alphabet down the side of a piece of paper plus all the consonant combos I could think of. Dr. Fr. Gr. Th. Sh.
And started making rhymes.
I wanted to win.
(I always want to win.)
I wrote one limerick. Two. Five. This was easy.
I sailed past the record of seven.
I kept going, forced to stop for dinner. Then did more with a flashlight after bedtime.
When we arrived at class the next morning, Mrs. Wallace had everyone turn theirs in. We were only required to write one, so many single sheets of paper were dropped on her desk.
I had written fifty-seven limericks.
Mrs. Wallace’s eyes narrowed. “Did you find a book of them?”
She thought I cheated!
I shook my head. I showed her my little sheet with my letters and tons of rhyming words listed out. I’d been able to form the limericks by coming up with a scenario that included those words.
I won. By a lot. The next person down had eight, thinking he’d cinched it with a record-breaker.
I’ve loved limericks ever since. I hope you enjoy the rather naughty ones in Royal Pickle.
A girl once lived in a small town
She was poor and wore old hand-me-downs
With a small weak flashlight
She’d stay up and she’d write
Now this author wears a big pretty crown
“I like the sneaky workings of your brilliant mind.” The Prince tugs the Pickle deli hat low on his head, almost obscuring those devilish eyes.
We cross the kitchen to the back door, Rachel trailing behind.
He tugs it open and peers out. “Which way?”
I point down the alley. “Head to that street, then to the right two blocks. The photographers are headed the other way.”
He turns to grin at me. “You’re really saving me here. Can I kiss you?”
I take a step back. “Uh. No.”
“Damn. I never like to leave a beautiful girl unkissed. Handshake then?”
I hold mine out. “Sure.”
He grips my palm and my whole body feels electrified, like he carries a charge. I stare at my hand after he lets it go.
He touches the hat brim, and then he’s gone.
Rachel peers out the door. “Awww, Sunny, why didn’t you kiss him?” She crosses her arms over her green deli apron. “I could have been your waiting lady or something.”
I push the door closed. “If he kisses every girl he sees, he doesn’t sound like happily-ever-after material.”
Rachel kicks out her hip. “He didn’t ask to kiss ME.”
There once was a girl from New York
Who never ate with the right fork
She met a hot prince
Saved him from a pinch
And now worries she’ll be Princess Dork
“Do you want me to tell the King and Queen that I love you?” I’m a horrible liar, but I suppose I could try. We have to keep up the ruse until we know if we’re a real couple. We have no idea, not yet.
His gaze rests on face. “No. No lies. I want to see if there is anything there, or if I should take care.”
“Take care how—” I’m silenced by his mouth on mine.
And I understand. He doesn’t want our first kiss to be an unknown element. He’ll either kiss me in front of his family, or not, based on… this.
His mouth moves over mine, gently, as if asking a question. I lean into him, my arms connecting with his bare chest.
The two sensations are wildly at odds. The careful kiss. The sizzle of our skin. I’m overwhelmed with a crazed need to take it deeper, to fall into him.
And he knows it, somehow. His hand slides under my hair and lifts my head so that he might part my lips, delving into my mouth.
Yes, my prince, I believe there is something there.
Royal Pickle is a standalone romantic comedy about a prince on the run, a poet with a dream, and a made-up European country where everyone likes to sing and dance. With donkeys.
You do not have to read the rest of the Pickleverse to enjoy Royal Pickle, which is the love story of Sunny, the last unmarried Pickle cousin. You can start right here.
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- Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60189481-royal-pickle
- Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/royal-pickle-a-romantic-comedy-by-jj-knight
JJ Knight is the USA Today and Amazon Top 100 bestselling author of contemporary romance and romantic comedy including Tasty Mango and Big Pickle.