The Accidental Queen
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Synopsis
Coming to America meets Bridgerton in this enthralling, contemporary debut novel by L.R. Jackson which blurs the lines of forbidden romance and showers hopeless romantics with a second-chance love reunion.
Unlike fairy tales of old, sometimes a woman must fight to save her king.
Ebony Rose desires the freedom to love without limits—but that’s for people who aren’t harboring the kind of skeletons that could threaten their very existence.
Desperately running from her past and a broken heart, Ebony refuses to allow anyone to get close to her—until she crosses paths once more with Dafari, the knight in shining armor she lost long ago.
The last thing King Dafari expects to find in New York is the girl who got away—although he had hoped. Marrying a woman outside of his culture is strictly forbidden, and the clock is ticking for him to choose a queen. However, Ebony Rose embodies all the qualities he seeks in a
mate and a matriarch for his country, and Dafari is determined to make Ebony his, despite the laws and traditions that stand between them. Then he makes a grave discovery that causes his world to spiral and leave him questioning everyone he loves.
Secrets buried under betrayal emerge, threatening to destroy the bond between Ebony and Dafari. Will they survive the sinister conspiracy surrounding them, or will royal misdeeds and scandal topple their chance at redemption and true happiness?
Release date: April 25, 2023
Publisher: Black Odyssey Media
Print pages: 288
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The Accidental Queen
L.R. Jackson
Dafari
Mafachiko, Africa
I stare ahead at the ceiling, the weight of what’s about to happen pressing heavily on my mind. In a few short hours my life will change, and I’m not sure if it’ll change for the better or for the worse. Truthfully, it really doesn’t matter. Because what’s about to happen is inevitable. It’s my destiny.
I look down at the brown-skinned beauty lying next to me. Her legs are tangled with mine under the soft satin sheets, and her palm rests on my chest. Her dark hair is splayed across the cream-colored pillow that’s decorated with smudges of her red lipstick. She stirs before her eyes pop open.
“Good morning, Your Highness.”
“Good morning, and I’m not your king . . . yet.”
She smiles as she lightly drags her nails down my chest, obviously hoping for a few more rounds of hot and sweaty sex before she leaves. But it’s not happening. I’m not in the mood. I grab her hand and move it away from my chest as I sit up and toss the sheets back. I feel her hands on my shoulder as I sit on the edge of the bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing that needs to be discussed with you, Ife.”
I feel the bed dip as she moves closer, sliding her hand further down my chest. “Oh, come on, I’m a great listener.”
“I didn’t bring you here to talk.”
“Is this all that will ever be between us, Dafari? I come here, let you have your way with me, and then you send me away?”
I turn around to face her. “I’m the future king. What did you think this would be?”
She places her hand on my shoulder. “A king needs a queen.”
I rise to my feet and grab my robe, shoving my arms into it quickly. Somehow, I knew this day would come. The day she would want more. More than what I’m willing to give her. I’ve been sleeping with Ife for about two months now. She’s beautiful and great in bed. But I have no plans on settling down with her—or anyone else, for that matter.
I spin around, and she’s already standing in front of me. Her face is tight, and her eyes are cold and emotionless. “Dafari, is there someone else?”
Yes.
“I’m not answering that question. I made my intentions with you very clear, Ife.”
“I know, but I thought . . .”
“What? That fucking me every night would make me marry you?”
“You son of a—”
I grab her hand just before it slaps me in the face. I shove it down and take a step closer to her. “Watch it. I would hate to have you imprisoned for striking the king.”
She huffs. “You wouldn’t.”
I smirk. “Of course I wouldn’t. I’m not that much of an asshole, regardless of what you think.” Her face softens, causing me to feel guilty.
“Look, I don’t want to hurt you, but I told you up front—sex is it for me.”
“But it doesn’t have to be that way. If you would just let me in, open your heart to me, we could be more.”
I place a kiss on her forehead. “I can’t be what you need, Ife. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.”
She gives me a solemn nod, tightens the sheet around her, and walks away. The door slams behind her, and I release a heavy breath as I plop down on my chaise. My intentions weren’t to hurt her, or any of the women I’ve entertained. No matter how candid I try to be, they all try to change my mind. They should have listened to me. They should have taken heed when I said it would just be sex between us. Finding a queen will be a mere technicality for me, simply because it’s my duty. My marriage will never be about love. It can’t be. Because there’s only one woman for me. One woman who’s earned my trust. One woman who I respect greatly. One woman who is fit to rule beside me as queen. But unfortunately, she has no idea that I’m royalty.
Chapter One
Ebony
New York
Fourteen dollars and sixty-one cents. That’s the number staring back at me as I peer at the screen displaying my online bank account. My brain does a quick calculation of the list of items I need to buy, and it’s not looking good. I have four more days until payday, and I still need to pay for train fare, food, and a few rolls of toilet paper. Something will have to be sacrificed. Toilet paper is a priority. I could steal napkins from work, but they’re somehow both nearly transparent and way too rough to use on tender areas. Train fare, also a priority. How else am I supposed to get to this dead-end job every day that barely pays the bills? That leaves food. I’ll have to skip dinner tonight . . . again. I’ve skipped dinner the last two nights, choosing lunch instead. I need the energy to deal with my bitch of a boss, Niecy, or Nagging Niecy, as I call her. I tap my fingers at the bottom of my chin as I debate between buying ramen noodles or Vienna sausages for lunch.
“Busy?”
Niecy’s voice startles me, but I play it cool as I quickly minimize the computer screen and spin around to face her. “I was just about to bring you your morning coffee,” I respond.
I tried to beat her here this morning, but I guess I wasn’t early enough. I needed to make sure I had enough time to check my bank account and look for other jobs before everyone else arrived in the office. I don’t have a computer at home, so I’ve been using the one at work whenever I can. Niecy eyes me with a scowl on her face.
“Dark roast with two creams,” she orders as she turns on her heels and walks away.
“Got it,” I mutter.
I spin my chair back around, take one last look at my balance, and click the X at the top right-hand corner. When the screen disappears, I head to the kitchen, place a dark roast K-cup in the Keurig machine, and press Brew. It goes to work, pouring a steaming stream of black gold into the cup, and I take a moment to breathe in the fragrance. But this machine hates me, and starts to overflow the cup. I smack the off button and grab a handful of paper towels to clean up the mess. “I hate this job,” I whisper under my breath.
I empty two creamers into her mug, stir it a few times, and head to her office. Her door is open, but I still knock twice before entering. She motions for me to come in as she wraps up a call. I approach her mahogany desk slowly, carefully balancing the overfilled coffee mug so that it doesn’t spill. She puts the phone back into the cradle and sighs as she sees the cup.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to fill it up to the brim?”
“Sorry. I’m still learning how to use the Keurig.”
“It’s not that difficult, Ebony. What you’re holding is a six-ounce mug, so it would make sense to hit the six-ounce button on the Keurig, right?”
She smirks after making her sarcastic comment, but I hold it together and refrain from giving her a long-overdue piece of my mind. “Right, it won’t happen again,” I respond.
I place the blue coffee mug on her NY Giants coaster and take a step back from her desk. She glances down at it. “Do you need anything else?” I ask, hoping that she didn’t.
“Actually . . . we need to talk. Would you mind closing the door, please?”
“Sure.” Dread fills me.
I close the door then have a seat in one of the black leather chairs in front of her desk. She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. “I don’t think you take this job seriously, Ebony.”
“I take it very seriously.”
This is not entirely true. I take the job seriously because I need the money. But I hate the job, and I hate her. She makes my life a living hell just because she can. My job was supposed to be a teacher assistant. I was hired to help with lesson plans, after school homework, and other classroom duties. But instead of doing the work I was hired to do, Nagging Niecy here has me making her coffee, getting her lunch, and cleaning her office. I don’t get a please, a thank you, or a job well done. This job was supposed to be my dream job. I was supposed to be a positive role model in these kids’ lives, a mentor of sorts. Not Niecy’s personal servant. Just because she’s the principal at one of New York’s toughest schools doesn’t mean she has the right to treat me like shit. I wanted to quit after my first week, but I need a job to pay my bills until something better comes along. I’m one missing paycheck away from losing my apartment. And if I lose my apartment, I’ll be forced to go back to the very place I swore I’d never return to, and that can’t happen.
“Ebony, I run a very tight ship here. I need someone who can keep this office in order and keep things running smoothly.”
That’s exactly what I wanted to do. Not cater to your every need.
She’s testing me, and I wish I could jump across her desk and smack that smug grin right off her face. “I think I’ve pulled my weight around here, Niecy. I’m the first one here every morning and the last one to leave at night. I’m here later than most of the teachers.”
She taps her fingertips on the desk and smiles. “You can drop the act. I know you’re here early, and I know you’re here late. But I also know it’s because you’re using my computer to look for other jobs . . . on my time!”
Shit! How did she find out? My mouth opens to reply, but nothing comes out.
“I track all of my employees’ internet traffic,” she continues.
“I’m sorry. I was only searching for a part-time job, something to help me make ends meet.”
“I’m going to have to let you go.”
“Please, Niecy, I need this job. I’ll make up the hours I spent on the internet,” I beg.
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Security will escort you out, and I’ll ship you the rest of your things.”
“Will I still be paid for this week?” I ask.
“Yes, you’ll receive your last check in the mail.”
I rise from the chair. “No need for security. I’ll let myself out.”
No way will I embarrass myself by waiting for Stan to escort me out in front of the entire school. Stan is the school’s security guard, and the man she’s sleeping with. He’s tall, tattooed, and big, and I don’t want any issues with him. So, I accept my termination and quickly make my way to the door. I exit her office, bypass my desk, and walk straight out of the building of The New York High School. I walk quickly, eager to get home and drink away the embarrassment and anger of being fired, but as I reach the train station, I realize that I didn’t bother to grab my purse on the way out. Now I’m standing at the ticket counter with no purse, no ticket, and no money. I could go back to the office, but I’m certain Stan won’t allow me back in the building. I grab my cell phone out of my back pocket and dial Tori. I get his voicemail, as usual, so I dial my best friend next.
“Hey,” she answers, sounding out of breath. “I just got in from a run.”
“Shaya, I need your help.”
“She didn’t even offer you a severance package?” Shaya stares at me with wide hazel eyes, waiting for me to answer her.
“Nope! She just fired me.”
“I’m sorry, Eb.” She passes me a second glass of wine.
“Yeah, but I can’t say that I blame her. I was using the work computer for personal stuff.”
“Whatever. That bitch hated you since the day you started. She had it out for you.”
I shake my head and try my hardest to stop the tears from falling. “I just need to find something soon.”
“Jay and I can always lend you some money.”
The way Shaya and I met isn’t exactly ordinary. I had just arrived in New York City and was hanging on by a thread, trying to start a new life. I was sleeping in homeless shelters and abandoned buildings, just until I could get on my feet. One night, it snowed, and the temperature was well below freezing. I’ll never forget that night, because that’s the night I thought things would end for me. I was walking down the street, fighting the blasting wind, looking for shelter. I looked to my right, and someone was coming out of an apartment building. I hurried inside before the door could close. The heat instantly warmed me, and I knew that if I wanted to live, I couldn’t go back outside. I took the steps down to the ground floor and luckily, the door to a laundry room was open. I collapsed immediately as I stepped inside. The next morning, I woke up, disoriented and frightened, on Shaya’s couch. She explained that she woke up early to do her laundry and found me lying on the floor. She called a friend, who helped carry me up to her place. I begged her not to call the cops and she agreed, but only if I told her why I was sleeping on the floor in an apartment building. And she wanted the truth. So, I told her. I don’t know why, but I trusted her.
I was right to do so. She cleaned me up, fed me, and let me crash there for a while. Then she helped me get the identification I needed to actually move forward. A new birth certificate, social security number, the works—none of it was actually mine, but it was the fresh start I desperately needed. I used the fake identification to enroll in school, placing so high I won a scholarship, with a full ride.
Shaya and I became best friends. She’s always there for me, and I love her like a sister. She’s business savvy, kind-hearted, and beautiful. She has a love for animals, and she and her fiancé, Jay, own a veterinarian clinic. Money is no issue for her, and I know she’s always willing to help, but I don’t like accepting it, especially since they’re paying for their own wedding.
“Thank you, but I’ll be okay.”
“Eb! Stop being so damn prideful.”
“I’m not. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
“What about a paid internship?”
“I’ve applied to a few of those, but most of them require that I be enrolled in college.”
“Have you decided whether you’re going to try to go back to school?”
“Maybe. Once I’ve saved enough money.”
“You might as well finish; no need letting those semesters go to waste.”
“I will. It’s just been . . . hard for me.”
She frowns as she nods with understanding. “Too bad you hate animals; you could work with me.”
“I don’t hate animals. I just don’t have the patience to care for them like you do.”
“Well, you should at least try. It’s better than having no money at all.”
I remain quiet.
“Have you told Tori yet?” she asks, changing the subject.
“No. I haven’t spoken to him at all today.”
“Figures. Why are you with him anyway?”
“We’re not officially together. We just have sex.”
“Still, he’s a bum, and you deserve better. I told you, I have someone you could meet. Jay’s brother would be the perfect guy for you.”
“No thanks.”
“Why not?”
“Because things could get weird if it didn’t work out between us.”
“There’s nothing that could ever happen to make things get weird for us. Just one date, Eb. Please, for me.”
“Fine. I’ll do it. But just know that I’m only going so you can stop asking.”
She claps her hands and laughs. “Great. I’ll set it up.”
“Okay.”
“Trust me. You’re going to like him.”
I decide to change the subject. “Enough about me. How is wedding planning? Did you guys pick a venue yet?”
Shaya and Jay fell in love quickly. He popped the question last month on her birthday, and I couldn’t be happier for her.
“None we could agree on, which is why you should have helped me pick the venue instead of him. Isn’t that why you’re my maid of honor?”
I laugh. “The venue is the only thing he wanted to have input on, Shaya. You can at least give him that.”
“If you say so. Is that what married life is about? Saying yes to things I really don’t want to say yes to?”
“I’m pretty sure it is.”
“I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be. You two love each other.”
She smiles. “Yeah, we do.”
“I have a year to plan the most epic bachelorette party ever. Hopefully I’ll find a job that pays enough for me to use my money instead of yours!”
“I don’t care either way. Just make sure I have strippers.”
“Did somebody say strippers?” Jay asks as he enters the living room.
Shaya denies it. “Nope.”
He kisses her on the cheek. “You two are up to something.”
We both laugh. “Just brainstorming,” I respond with my most innocent expression.
“Well, can the two of you come up with something that doesn’t involve naked men touching my soon-to-be wife?”
“You’re no fun!” she argues as he walks away, still laughing.
“Good seeing you, Ebony!” he yells over his shoulder.
“You too, Jay,” I reply.
Her newborn puppy starts to cry, so she hurries over to the basket to check on him. I continue to sip my wine as I think about what to do next. Rent is due this week, and I already owe two hundred additional dollars from last month’s rent. I’ve been late so many times that my landlord has threatened to evict me if I don’t pay the entire balance in full soon. I also received a past due notice from the electric company, and I have two weeks before they disconnect my services. I have one last check coming, and it’s not enough to cover them both. So, I need to figure something out . . . and fast.
Chapter Two
Dafari
Mafachiko, Africa
Sweat pours down my face as I watch the country people kneel before me. They remain kneeled, with their heads bowed, waiting for me to speak. I look out into the crowd, taking it all in. I’m the eldest son and heir to the throne of Mafachiko. I was trained to be a king since the day I was born, and now that day has come. The day where I stake my claim to the crown. Mafachiko is a country I’m proud to be a part of. It’s rich in oil, gold, and spices. Its beauty is unmatched, with green pastures, fields of blooming flowers, and deep blue waters. But as much as I love my country, I’ve felt smothered by it. When you’re a prince, the expectations are different, and the amount of freedom you have is limited.
But not anymore. No more rules from my father and the elders. Now, I make the rules. I can feel the weight being lifted off my shoulders as I stand to my feet and take a few steps forward.
“Great people of Mafachiko, I come to you as your humble king. I vow to you that under my reign, we will continue to be the prosperous and peaceful country that our ancestors intended. My father was a great man and a great king. Long live King Ayo!”
“Long Live King Ayo,” the people repeat.
Femi approaches me and carefully places the gold crown my father once wore on top of my head. He’s 102 years old, making him our oldest and wisest elder. He takes a step back and turns to face the crowd. “I hereby pronounce King Dafari.”
The crowd rises to its feet and claps and cheers. I turn to my mother, who stands to the left of me, and she smiles. She takes a step forward and embraces me tightly. Once she releases me, she nods her head at my younger brother, Enu, who stands to my right. I turn to face him, and he extends his hand to me. I grab his hand and shake it firmly. “Congratulations, brother. Father would be proud.”
“I wish he could be here to see it,” I respond as my chest tightens.
I release his hand and take a step back as my mother snaps her fingers at Ife. “It’s time. Please make sure everything runs smoothly. There’s no room for mistakes tonight,” she orders.
Ife nods submissively before whispering something to the musicians. The sound of drums echoes throughout the room. People begin to dance, the food arrives, and my father’s portrait is being removed from the wall and replaced with mine. The crowning ceremony is over, and the after party has begun. The next few hours will be filled with music, food, alcohol, and the most important part of tonight’s festivities . . . women. My mother and the elders have invited every potential queen here tonight. I’m supposed to mingle with them, figure out which ones I like best, and narrow it down to a few. But finding a queen is not on my list of priorities right now. There’s something more important I must take care of—my first piece of business as king.
The music grows louder, interfering with my concentration, so I decide to escape the madness for some time alone. I lean in and speak into my mother’s ear. “Mother. I’m going to get some air.”
Before she can respond, I quickly walk away. As I make my way through the grand hall, I respectfully make pleasantries with those who take the time to acknowledge me, but my . . .
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