Fall for a Fairytale

by Isabelle Taylor

Genres: Fantasy; Epic Fantasy; Romantic Fantasy; General Fiction

Synopsis

A wild adventure begins when a charming orc con artist convinces an orphaned fae that she could be the kingdom’s lost princess, launching them both on a dangerous mission with found family, a flying pirate ship, and steamy romance.

“A rollicking fast-paced adventure with delightful characters and a swoony romance. From start to finish, this enchanting cozy romantasy is a whole lot of fun!”—Emily Krempholtz, USA Today bestselling author of Prudence Marsh Is Not a Nobody Anymore

Clove is no stranger to hard work. As a young fae, she woke up in an orphanage with no memories and a torn wing. Since then, Clove has toiled in bustling taverns, saving every coin to reach the enchanting Wingspire City with her adorable, feathered companion, Goosebug. Now, finally with enough money, she’s ready to say goodbye to her past and find her future.

Jayce, a charming and handsome orc, is currently on the run from a notorious crime lord he borrowed money from. That’s when he runs into the girl he’s been looking for—a fae who could pose as the missing princess. This con, and the huge reward, is finally in sight, but when Jayce stars to feel something for the feisty Clove, he knows it won’t be easy.

Clove has never felt so alive, sneaking onto moving trains and soaring through the clouds on a magical pirate ship. Despite her better judgment, she’s beginning to trust Jayce—he’s so certain she’s the missing princess, and she desperately wants him to be right, especially if it means one more night with him . . .

As they draw closer to the castle and each other, they must confront the truth, the past, and the passion brewing between them.

Release date: November 10, 2026

Publisher: Dell

Print pages: 336

Sample

One


The griffon barkeep narrowed his beady eyes at Jayce as he sat down at the bar.

Jayce beamed at him, all rugged charm. Wary suspicion was the expected greeting from a grumpy barkeep, but Jayce wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve it this time. Maybe he had something against orcs.

"One scamp, my good man," Jayce began.

The barkeep slung the filthy rag he'd been cleaning the bar with over his feathery shoulder. "Are you going to pay this time?"

Jayce's smile stayed in place through sheer will as the memory came back to him. He had snuck out of this tavern without paying the last time he'd come through town. But that was years ago. What were the chances this old griffon would have such a keen memory?

"You must have mistaken me with someone else," Jayce lied, smiling so wide that the old scar on his lip throbbed. "I always pay my debts."

The griffon grunted. He didn't say anything, but Jayce heard it loud and clear: He didn't have much faith in charismatic orcs. Nor should he. But Jayce was tired after yet another circuit through these backwater towns trying to find someone worth conning. All he wanted was a cheap drink and somewhere to rest his head. He was still working on the second part. But for once, he had enough money to take care of the first.

Jayce tossed a gold coin on the counter. "One scamp, my feathery friend."

The griffon eyed it warily. Before he could move to pick it up, a loud crash echoed through the tavern.

Jayce looked over. A barmaid stood behind the bar, her eyes wide as she took in the mess of broken scamp glasses at her feet.

The barkeep growled. "Hells! Really?"

He slid a glass of scamp in front of Jayce and marched off, feathers fluffing as he scolded the poor barmaid.

Jayce sipped the foul scamp and eyed the gold coin on the bar, wondering if he could stuff it back into his pocket without the griffon noticing. He didn't want to push his luck. The barkeep's eyes were probably just as sharp as his memory.

Still, old habits died hard. Jayce ran his finger in a wide loop around the gold coin on the bar. The tavern was busy enough, and the barkeep was distracted. Maybe he could just—

A small, callused hand closed around the coin before he could touch it. Jayce looked up to see a woman stuffing it into her apron, looking harried.

"Thank you," said the woman distractedly. "Can I get you anything else?"

Jayce blinked, pleasantly surprised. It was the barmaid who had broken all those scamp glasses. She was gorgeous. The kind of beauty you didn't find in a small town very often, all straight lines and symmetry and grace. Her eyes were bright violet that, for reasons he refused to identify, made his chest ache.

The barmaid raised her dark brows. "Sir?"

Jayce ignored the hammering in his chest and leaned over the bar, rubbing his thumb over the scar that ran through his lips. "How about your name?"

The barmaid's stressed expression turned into amusement. It was only for a moment before her gaze snapped to a disapproving glare.

"Does that line usually work for you?" she asked coolly.

"Usually." Jayce grinned.

The woman's mouth twisted, as if she was fighting a smile. Jayce let his triumph slide over his face, and even some of his relief. Not everyone enjoyed being flirted with by an orc, no matter how talented Jayce was at it. Not since the coup fifteen years ago, led by the king's adviser and the secret human supremacist, Lord Blackwood.

Blackwood had stirred up propaganda against non-humans, especially fae. The royal family were fae, after all. It was in Lord Blackwood's best interests to turn the public against them, so he could seize power for himself. And he'd almost succeeded. The king was the only one left of the royal bloodline. The queen had died that night. And depending on who you listened to, so had the young princess, Arabella.

Everywhere Jayce went, there were nasty whispers about fae losing their jobs or, in a few shocking cases, even getting attacked. Some fae hid their pointed ears and wings when they were in public.

Jayce tried not to notice the bigotry. People didn't generally bother orcs. Not unless they had reinforcements. With tensions building again, Jayce was ready to deal with the fallout from a distance, like everybody else. Not like the first time. Not in the palace, deep in the fighting, where he had gained the scar on his mouth and learned something that most of the kingdom was burning to know: The princess was dead. It didn't matter that her body was never found. Jayce knew it, just like he knew the rumors of Blackwood escaping that palace with his life were just that: rumors. There were no daring escapes, no surprise happy endings. Jayce hadn't believed in those for a long, long time.

He did, however, believe in money. And unless he was mistaken, the king was still offering a reward to anyone who could return his beloved daughter to him. It was one of the endless con ideas Jayce had swirling around in his head. It would take a lot of work, but if he found the right girl, he would give it a shot. He was the perfect orc for the job. He used to work with his uncle in the palace gardens, after all. He had watched the princess enough that he could turn somebody into a convincing facsimile of her.

Jayce leaned over the bar to examine the barmaid more closely. She was also wearing a hat, though he'd chalked that down to the drafty tavern. Now that he observed her again: those delicate features and violet eyes. Beautiful, yes. But also distinctive, if you paid attention. If she had wings that matched her eyes, she would almost look like—

Jayce cut that thought off before it could get morbid. "So what is your name?"

The barmaid gave him an unreadable look, and Jayce smiled harder, intensifying his charm.

"My boss said to keep an eye on you," the barmaid said, now looking bizarrely unaffected by his best smile. "And to take your drink away from you if you try anything."

"Odd name," said Jayce. "Is that foreign?"

The barmaid's mouth twitched. Jayce was getting to her.

Before he was forced to come up with a line to dazzle her into continuing the conversation, a clawed hand closed around his shoulder and jerked him around in his chair.

Jayce's smile vanished as he found himself flanked by two familiar lycans.

The one to his left, Leech, was surprisingly young and stocky, growling menacingly in a way that suggested he was not very experienced in the art of threatening and was overcompensating to make up for it.

The other lycan, Track, stood to his right with his grip threateningly tight on Jayce's shoulder. Track was older, his fur streaked with gray, and he was remarkably steady. That steadiness made Jayce uneasy. Young, flighty lycans with something to prove, he could handle. Track would be much harder. So far, he'd never been unlucky enough to find out. But something told him that tonight was the night his luck ran out.

"Leech," Jayce said, as if he had just run into two old friends rather than his possible doom. "Track! How have you been? You look great."

Leech snarled. "Did you really think you could walk off without paying Silver his money?"

"Leech," said Track, his voice low and even. "What did I say about talking on the job?"

Leech's growl quieted. "Sorry, Track."

Track kept that unnerving gaze on Jayce as he nodded at him. "We need to talk."

Dread rose in Jayce's stomach as he thought of the crime lord who was so mysterious that no one knew what species he was. Some said Silver was an orc. Others said he was a lycan. Many were convinced he was a vampire. Jayce knew one thing for sure: He was deadly.

Despite working the occasional con for the crime lord for years and being on the run from him for months, Jayce had never met the man. Silver was too busy to shake down orcs for debts. He left that to his lycan lackeys.

Jayce kept his smile in place and patted Track's shoulder, heart sinking as he felt how much muscle was hiding under the lycan's thick jacket. "Of course! Lead the way. I'll just finish my drink."

He brought his scamp up to his mouth. Track plucked the glass out of his hand and placed it on the bar, then led Jayce away.

Jayce looked back at the bar regretfully. He'd been hoping to bring the glass with him as a potential weapon. He caught a glimpse of the barmaid giving him a wary look, and he shot her a wink. Trying to convince not only her but also himself that nothing bad would happen in this tavern.

The lycans led Jayce into a dark corner and shoved him into a chair. Leech stood at his side. Track leaned over him.

"I have to say," Track said quietly, "I'm surprised, Jayce. Thought you were smart. Running out on Silver? Nothing smart about that."

"Running?" Jayce laughed. "Who's running?"

He reached into his jacket to touch the lemon bomb nestling next to his measly coin purse. He knew he'd been right to keep a few on hand since he started running from Silver. The lemon bombs' thick, pungent cloud worked best on creatures with super-scenting abilities, like lycans. The suffocating cloud would at least give Jayce a head start.

Track grabbed his elbow, fast and smooth. "Ah-ah. No fast moves, orc."

"I'll move as slow as a lycan on bath day," Jayce said. He bypassed the lemon bombs and pulled his thin coin purse out instead. "Boys. Surely we can make this little problem go away."

He threw the coin purse on the table, thinking about the second lemon bomb in his other pocket, about the lycans flanking him, about exit routes and places he could hide if he made it out of the tavern.