My brother swears his roommate in college was an bonafide prince. And if it wasn’t for the ridiculousness of that notion, I might believe him. But, seriously, what kind of prince attends a second-rate college in South Carolina? A prince of thieves, perhaps? Still, he insists it’s the truth. So, when that big galoof turns the big three-oh, I decide it’s time to call his bluff and invite this ‘prince’ to join us in celebration. Imagine my surprise when an RSVP turns up on royal letterhead, declaring Prince Luis himself will be in attendance with his royal guard. They even...
My brother swears his roommate in college was an bonafide prince. And if it wasn’t for the ridiculousness of that notion, I might believe him. But, seriously, what kind of prince attends a second-rate college in South Carolina? A prince of thieves, perhaps? Still, he insists it’s the truth. So, when that big galoof turns the big three-oh, I decide it’s time to call his bluff and invite this ‘prince’ to join us in celebration. Imagine my surprise when an RSVP turns up on royal letterhead, declaring Prince Luis himself will be in attendance with his royal guard. They even want me to provide a map of the venue to his security consultant post-haste. This is either real, or my brother has really outdone himself with this story… But then I google Prince Luis and discover he’s the bad-boy of Spanish royalty. Something about that smile of his has my body reacting in ways I’ve never felt before. Do Spanish princes enjoy big beautiful American women? I hope so…
