Princes of Ash (Royals of Forsyth University, #8)

by Angel Lawson

He clicks on the overhead lamp, blinding me. “Do you need me to administer an orgasm?” My eyes fly wide. “What?”

😂 lmao same girl.

I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about it. We’re going to have to wind all our neuroses into a single knot in order to raise a kid together. I don’t know what that looks like, but I know it won’t be whatever our son needs.

“MCA, actually.” I swallow the whiskey like fire. “Michael Claudius Ashby.”

😰 he’s going to want her to name him Michael. The dread that I feel right now. Jesus Christ all the horrible shit in this book and this is what is hurting me.

Michael Rufus Ashby? 🤢

Without moving his gaze from his son, Ashby says, “Thad, go into the Princess’ room and get the bird.”

I swear to fucking god if these authors kill or maim this bird…I’m…done? God. I can’t.

“Fine. If you want to take the punishment for your brother, then there’s only one thing left to do.”

Ew, don’t call him that.

“Don’t—” Pace shouts, and behind me, I hear the sound of a struggle; a clatter and crash, something fragile shattering on the floor. His next words are muffled growls.

God, I don’t want to read this…😭

“It’s like he was afraid of having a soul, so he gave it to her to keep safe.

-Verity talking about Pace and Effie

Even birds can use a mama bear sometimes. Please see that this one is loved until we’ve made a safer den for her. Show her some kindness and a window with some sunshine, and she’ll be a fast friend.

Until MamaB hears “Just fuck me already!” 🤣🤣

He runs the brush through in a long, victorious stroke. “Okay, or a societal collapse, or nuclear fallout, or a plague—”

The most he’s ever talked 🥰 and he’s a little weirdo lol

I suspect if Pace brought me down a broom and a mop, I’d have this place spotless by morning.

I swear to god. She better just be restless because it is too early for nesting.

It takes a long moment for my throat to unlock, and I have plans, however vague, to tell her how fucking amazing she looks right now, all fucked out and euphoric. Instead, I blurt, “I ate your banana pudding.” She pauses, blinking. “You what?” “You were in the dungeon,” I explain, a touch defensive. “It was going to go bad. I ate it.”

🤣🤣 This. This is what I miss from the first book. There was a bit more comedic relief in that one. As Effie would say, “Goddamnit Wicker!”

“Stop!” Ballsack steps between us, his expression tight with disbelief. “You’re not fighting over a goddamn doll here. Verity is a person,

🥹 Ballsy

Eventually, I gather the courage to ask, “Have they found anything yet?”

Theory: Stella is the next Baroness. Grumpy sunshine.