Special Delivery: Winter: An Mpreg Romance Collection Read online

  Special Delivery: Winter

  An Mpreg Romance Collection

  Quinn Bishop

  Jena Wade

  Leyla Hunt

  Lorelei M. Hart

  Xander Collins

  Aria Grace

  Colbie Dunbar

  Kallie Frost

  Surrendered Press

  Contents

  Alpha’s Heir

  1. Landon

  2. Heath

  3. Landon

  4. Heath

  5. Landon

  6. Heath

  About Quinn Bishop

  Finding His Reality

  1. Tyson

  2. Curt

  3. Tyson

  4. Curt

  5. Tyson

  6. Curt

  7. Tyson

  8. Curt

  9. Tyson

  More from Jena Wade

  Breaking The Ice

  1. David

  2. Ian

  3. David

  4. Ian

  5. David

  6. Ian

  7. David

  8. Ian

  9. David

  10. Ian

  Keep in Touch with Colbie Dunbar

  Mistletoe Wishes

  1. Parker

  2. Colton

  3. Parker

  4. Colton

  5. Parker

  Epilogue

  All I Want…

  1. Lawrence

  2. Brady

  3. Lawrence

  4. Brady

  5. Lawrence

  About Xander Collins

  Picture Perfect Christmas

  1. Ryker

  2. Cody

  3. Ryker

  4. Cody

  5. Cody

  About Kallie Frost and Harper B. Cole

  Winter Warmed

  1. Wren

  2. Darren

  3. Wren

  4. Darren

  5. Wren

  6. Darren

  7. Wren

  8. Darren

  Also by Aria Grace

  Thank you

  Alpha’s Heir

  Quinn Bishop

  1. Landon

  “His Majesty commands the Master of the Household to invite Landon Richmond to a Winter Reception to be given by The King at Kenway Manor on Friday, the 18th December, at 7 p.m.”

  Shock and dread swept over me as I stared down at the hefty, gold-trimmed royal invitation fluttering in my trembling hand. Rumors had been swirling in the press for weeks that our notorious playboy King Kenway, the last of his line, was finally getting serious about finding a husband — and what better time to announce his search for a match than this close to Christmas?

  But what could the King possibly want with a no-name omega like me, and how did he even know who I was? Despite my name printed on the paper, I was sure there must’ve been some mistake. Maybe they’d gotten the wrong Landon Richmond, or maybe they’d printed my name by accident.

  I never knew what to expect when I walked through Dad’s front door after work every day, but a formal invitation from the King of Gilmouth was never on the list of possibilities.

  “What does it say?” my sickly father asked from his favorite reclining chair, his voice full of more energy than I’d heard in it for years. “I’ve been going crazy waiting to find out ever since one of the royal staff delivered it this morning.”

  So, an actual employee of the crown had showed up at our doorstep to hand deliver the invitation. I couldn’t believe it. I lowered the paper to look Dad in the eye but couldn’t find words. Instead, I crossed our modest living room and handed the heavy card stock to him, still reeling at what I’d read.

  His eyes widened as they raced over the invitation. “Oh my God, Landon,” he gasped and slowly raised a hand to his mouth to cover it. “This is incredible!” he hissed through his narrow fingers. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  I shrugged. “That King Kenway must’ve run out of one-nighters?”

  A scowl appeared on my father’s face. “No, you bloody idiot! It means he’s looking for a husband and mate. And it could be you!”

  I snorted. “Don’t hold your breath, Dad.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m a nobody, for starters. And I’m not going to his stupid reception, anyway,” I said and snatched the invitation out of his hands.

  His scowl turned to horror in an instant. “Landon Charles Richmond!” he scolded, and I cringed at the use of my middle name, taken from his ex-husband, my alpha father who I tried my best to forget existed; it was because of Charles’ reckless gambling and spending that we’d gone into debt, which only grew after Dad got sick.

  “You can’t refuse a royal invitation!” Dad hissed.

  “Why not? It’s an invitation, not a jury summons. Besides, King Kenway isn’t exactly Gilmouth’s most eligible bachelor. I’ve read about the way he chews people up and spits them out in the magazines,” I said and crumpled the invitation.

  Dad stared wide-eyed at me like I’d just uttered the worst series of curse word imaginable. “Those aren’t magazines, they’re rumormongering rags! For God’s sake, Landon, think about what you’re refusing here. You could become the King’s Consort. You could have everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more. We’d never want for anything ever again.”

  The only thing I wanted was for the absurd conversation to be over. “Yeah, except it’d come at the cost of marrying Heath Kenway, who’s probably one of the least likable kings Gilmouth has ever seen.”

  “If both your parents died in a horrific plane crash like his did as a child, you’d probably have a chip on your shoulder too. But people change, you know. Maybe he'll surprise you.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Sure, Dad, everyday people change, but kings? Doubtful. They don’t have to.”

  “How could you possibly know that about him without giving him a chance to prove you wrong?”

  “I’ve seen enough TV to know King Kenway’s no Prince Charming, and I’m not about to play Cinderella for him. I'm sure he’ll find a husband, but it’s not gonna be me,” I said and tossed the crumpled invite in the open trash can.

  “Not if you don’t even try! Please, Landon. Do it for my sake,” Dad begged. “What do you have to lose other than a little time? Besides, you’ve always wanted to see the manor.”

  “I’m supposed to wait tables at both jobs on Friday,” I said, desperate to find a way out, though I knew I’d already lost the fight; as soon as Dad trotted out the “do it for my sake” line, he’d finished me.

  Dad scoffed. “I’m sure your bosses will understand and make arrangements if you tell them you need the night off for a dinner with the king. How could they possibly say no?”

  I hesitated while I struggled to find another excuse and came up empty. “All right, all right. Fine. I’ll go, but I think it’s going to be a gigantic waste of time.”

  “If you go into it with that mindset, you’re probably right,” Dad scolded. “Now bring me my computer.” He pointed at his old, loud laptop on the kitchen table where he usually kept it. He couldn’t move around the house much anymore, but he refused to sit in the recliner all day and waste away, so walking from the kitchen to the living room and back helped

  “For what?” I asked as I reached for the computer and unplugged it.

  “We have to find you something nice to wear. You can’t show up at the mansion in your work uniform, as much as I kn
ow you love it.”

  “Dad, no, you don’t have to do that. I already have one of your old suits I can wear, and we really can’t afford anything unnecessary—”

  “Unnecessary?!” Dad interrupted. “There’s nothing at all unnecessary about buying you a nice new suit to wear to what’s sure to be one of the most important nights of your life. I refuse to let you walk into that manor wearing my old rags.”

  “But what about the bills? We’ve barely got enough for this month as it is.”

  “Well, if whatever we buy helps you catch King Kenway’s eye, we won’t have to worry about bills anymore, will we?” Dad asked with a wink and held out his hands for the computer. Annoyed, I passed it to him.

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “What’s another few hundred dollars of debt at this point? We have nothing left to lose, and everything to gain,” he said and opened the laptop’s lid to peck in his password. As much as he used the computer over the years, he should’ve been a better typist by now, but he still used just his index fingers.

  I sat down on the couch next to his recliner, and we spent most of the rest of the evening poring over so many suits that they all eventually turned into a blur of fabric to me. When Dad wasn’t asking for my input, he forced me to watch old videos of King Kenway on my phone to get a better sense of him and what he might like.

  After hours of torture, I dropped my phone in my lap, exasperated. “Why am I doing all this? I don’t know how he even knows I exist or what possessed him to invite me to this show of his, but the Kenway must like something about me, so shouldn’t I just be myself?”

  “If your attitude tonight is any sign, I’d say probably not.”

  I shot him a withering look. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Anytime,” he said and continued scrolling. The man could spend hours lost in research, though that probably shouldn’t have been a surprise; it was what he used to do for a living before his cancer forced him onto disability.

  “In all seriousness, though, why do you think he picked me? Of the thousands of omegas in Gilmouth, how did I end up on his radar?”

  Dad shrugged. “I have no idea, but they say the King has eyes everywhere, so someone must’ve brought you to his attention. Maybe you waited on a member of his staff without realizing it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Not likely. I think it’d be pretty hard to miss someone from high society like them strolling into either of my greasy restaurants.”

  “Then I guess you’ll just have to ask the King yourself on Friday night,” Dad said, and I gulped at the thought. As much as I wanted to know, wouldn’t it be a bit too forward of me to ask? Then again, maybe being that bold would buy me a better chance at impressing him.

  I shook my head at my own stupid thoughts. Who was I kidding? The only reason I was going to the reception was because Dad begged me to, and yet there I was already fantasizing about the night and how best to sweet talk the King — as if he’d ever pick me to be his husband, anyway.

  “What do you think of this one?” Dad asked, thankfully pulling me out of my thoughts as he spun the computer around in his lap to show me. “It says online that this is the King’s favorite color,” he said, and it didn’t at all surprise me that Dad had already researched that piece of trivia.

  The designer suit on the screen was a deep blue, bordering on purple, with dark but subtle, thin blue vertical stripes. Though the model wearing it had a much nicer body than mine, I thought it would still look good on me — until I glanced at the price.

  “Two thousand dollars? I don’t care how nice it is, no suit is worth that,” I said.

  Dad shrugged. “It’s a small price to pay for a potentially life-changing event.”

  “You don’t even have that much money in the bank, Dad. Believe me, I know. I’m the one paying your bills every month.”

  “That’s what credit cards are for. Buy now, pay later.”

  I cringed; that was exactly what Charles used to say, and exactly the thinking that’d almost bankrupted us.

  “I really don’t think this is a good idea. What if—”

  “We’ll make it work,” Dad interrupted and clicked a button to add the suit to his cart. “You just stay focused on how to woo the King.”

  I didn’t bother arguing because I knew I couldn’t change his mind. Instead, I tapped on a recommended video of King Kenway, his most recent Christmas greeting that I hadn’t yet seen.

  He sat at an ornate wooden table, his flowing, blond hair spilling over his broad, velvet-robed shoulders like liquid gold. Rather than his usual immaculate jeweled crown, a silver circlet rested on his forehead, its single gem a sparkling emerald. He looked regal in every way imaginable, the perfect made-for-TV alpha King for our modern era.

  Kenway smiled at the camera, revealing flawless white teeth and making his olive eyes flash. Though I mentally kicked myself for it, something stirred in me. I used to roll my eyes at the sight of him, curse him from afar for his effortless poise, beauty, and masculinity, but as he greeted the country and spent the next ten minutes wishing us the merriest of Christmases, I realized I’d wanted him all along. Who wouldn’t?

  And, amazingly, now I had the chance to have him. I just had to get through a royal soiree without making a fool of myself. No pressure.

  2. Heath

  “I absolutely love the look of the snow on the grounds during this time of year, don’t you?”

  I glanced up from my feet where I’d focused to take a cursory glance at the powder-dusted shrubs and walls. The staff had decorated every piece of flora on the property with white Christmas lights, the same as they did each year, and they twinkled against the snow with every crunching step I took.

  I shrugged. “If you’ve seen one snowflake, you’ve seen them all.”

  George Winthrop, my full-time assistant, frowned at me and shook his head. “Always a charmer, aren’t you, Your Majesty?”

  “Please don’t call me that, George. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times how much I hate it. My name is Heath. Use it.”

  “Of course, Your Maj—er, Heath,” George corrected. “I’m sorry. Bad habits are hard to break. Your father would never have stood for me using any other title.” An uncomfortable smile flashed across his round, rosy face at the mention of my father, and the red that usually rested solely on his cheeks crept up his face to rest on his bald head.

  I’d inherited George as an assistant from my parents after their accident, and I liked him well enough. We’d gotten along fine before then too, but when I became king after my parents died, George seemed to take a whole new interest in me, and I still couldn’t tell if it was because he knew I needed a stand-in father figure or if he was just doing his job.

  Either way, I was mostly glad to have him around, especially during the first few years. Having to get up in front of the nation and be strong for them while they mourned for and with me, their poor orphaned teenage King, wasn’t easy, especially when all I wanted was to drown my grief in booze and meaningless encounters with all-too-eager omegas. I couldn’t have done it without George backing me. One or both of my preferred vices surely would’ve killed me by now if it weren’t for George’s continued interventions.

  Since then, we’d settled into a stasis in which I continued to push things too far, and he reined me back in and put out whatever fires I’d started. And though it irritated me sometimes, I had to admit he was also great at pulling me out of my naturally reclusive shell, which was how we’d ended up walking the grounds to prepare for a Winter Reception designed to find me a husband at last.

  Just like with every other decision concerning the estate, no matter how ultimately meaningless they were, George needed my final approval on the decorations, but truthfully, I couldn’t have cared less. They looked fine. Fantastic, even. I didn’t doubt the winter wonderland scene the staff had created would blow away the omegas we’d invited, but the luster had worn off for me long ago. Losing my parents stole a lot of
the magic of the holidays from me.

  George cleared his throat. “Anyway, have you decided what you’re going to wear tomorrow? I’d be happy to help you narrow down the options.”

  My staff had picked out a dozen or more outfits for me to try on and choose from for the reception more than a month ago, but I hadn’t looked at any of them yet. They still hung untouched in their fancy protective bags in my closet.

  George must’ve read my thoughts on my face because he looked like he might have a heart attack; nothing bothered him more than my being unprepared. “We’re less than a day away from the event!” he hissed. “Please tell me you’ve at least glanced at them.”

  I grimaced. “Sorry.”

  George shook his head. “Honestly, Heath, sometimes I wonder if you’re at all serious about finding a mate. You realize you’re the last — the very last — Kenway, don’t you? Have you learned nothing from your last disastrous attempt at romance?” he snapped and stalked away from me toward the entrance to the manor.

  Ouch. George was the only man I knew strong enough to speak so harshly to me, but I deserved it. During the summer, George had made himself crazy planning and inviting eligible omega bachelors from all the richest families in Gilmouth to the mansion for a blowout pool party, and boy, did it turn out to be a blowout for all the wrong reasons, no thanks to me.