Summary:
Laurel Holidays Fall Romance
As the country of Östermon braces for a season of celebrations, an old spark threatens to reignite behind palace walls.
Prince Harold Valdemar has always been many things: charming, reckless, irresistible. The tabloids still remember his carefree years a little too fondly, even if Harold himself would rather forget them. These days, he’s trying—truly trying—to be the man the crown demands. Mostly. What he doesn’t expect is for the one person who once saw straight through him to return to his life.
Rani Adhikari is not the same man he was years ago. Serious, composed, and fiercely professional, he’s back at the palace on a temporary assignment with one goal: to do his job and avoid the prince who once broke his heart. Harold was never meant to be more than a beautiful mistake. But late nights, half-done conversations, and the unmistakable pull of unfinished business make it impossible to pretend their past never happened.
With a demanding royal schedule, a palace humming with gossip, and a monarchy that remembers Harold’s reputation all too well, both men must confront who they were—and who they’re willing to become—if they want a future that’s more than just another regret.
The Harvest Homecoming is a contemporary, second-chance, queer royal romance featuring a former playboy prince trying to grow up, a no-nonsense staff member with a long memory, new beginnings sharpened by time and distance, lingering chemistry that refuses to fade, quiet moments stolen from duty, and a hopeful, hard-earned happily ever after.
I'm going to start by mentioning when this was first released earlier this month, the author posted it is a spin-off of last year's Laurel Holidays Xmas entry, The Christmas Mittens, and it would help to read that first to get the whole feel of Östermon and some characters. I have not read that entry yet and though I am sure a few points would have flowed better, I was not lost but it has made me want to go back and read Mittens, hopefully for the upcoming holiday season.
Now, onto The Harvest Homecoming.
Prince Harold is the kind of lad who makes you want to scream and give him a good shaking, or at least he was but when his ex, Rani, comes back into his radar he makes the realization its past time to make a few changes, so you want to give the poor guy the benefit of the doubt. As for Rani, well I kind of wanted to shake him too for giving Harold the absence of hope but I get why so I can't shake him too hard.
Second chance romances are a favorite of mine, wanting or needing to correct past behaviors or just fate finally putting all the ducks in a row is something most of us can relate to, if not in the romance department in other areas of our life. It's those possibilities that make the trope more than just a trope but something that can happen outside the pages of fiction, which makes character connections easier to make. And VL Locey, in using this trope turns the very fairytale-like trope of royalty & commoner, incredibly believable.
As for Östermon, well it may be a completely fictional land, I can't help but feel a bit of a personal pull having Dutch blood which was only one of the reasons I love this story. Fall being my favorite season is another. But mostly, it's the amazing characters and their journey that sucked me in and kept me hooked.
As I started with, Harvest Homecoming may have been better if I read Christmas Mittens first but again, I was not lost. This is a lovely romance full of heart and though there may not be enough humor for a romantic comedy label, its pretty close. Just an all around fun fall romance to warm the heart.
Chapter One
“Are you sure, Harold?”
I pulled my attention from my face in my hairstylist’s mirror to look at Gus. His amber eyes locked with mine. He’d told me he wore colorful contacts to match his moods. Handsomest hairstylist in all of Oslo, I liked to say. Stunning man Gustav Bakken. Dark, robust, possessed of skilled fingers that could tease a hairdo and a man into a state of bliss. I’d learned after a few tumbles in his bed several years ago. Somehow I’d let him go as a lover—something that I seemed to be prone to do—but I’d clung to him tightly as a stylist and a dear friend. He plucked a dark curl from my head, then let it spring back.
“I’m sure.”
“What you’re looking for is drastic.”
“I know,” I replied, sitting upright in one of four exquisite salon chairs in the entire salon. Gus was extremely finicky about whose hair he styled. He only accepted the cream of European society into his tiny shop facing the grounds that housed the royal palace. Lovely place filled with lovely monarchs. Friends of my parents, mostly, but kind enough to her boys, as my mother liked to call her sons.
He rested his long fingers atop my curls, his brow furrowing. Chatter from the waiting area blended into a playlist of alternative rock bands from Norway as he studied me like an amoeba on a slide.
“Harold, what you’re asking for is drastic.”
“You said that already,” I reminded him, the collar of the soft gold cape—changed seasonally from pink to green, then gold, and then winter white because Gus was just that way—tied around my neck was beginning to itch. I felt the need to give it a yank but left my hands on my lap, hidden under the hairdressing cape where I could fidget with the royal ring on my right index finger. All four of the Valdemar princes wore one or had one in their possession. My younger brother Anders, now in the States with his beloved Mitchell and Mitchell’s daughter Gilda, had probably tucked his away because he’d given up the life of a royal to be obscure and in love. Bearing the seal of Östermon, it chafed occasionally. “I feel it’s time for a change.”
He sighed through his nose. “Does this have anything to do with your thirty-fifth birthday coming up soon?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? Did I seek out a new Harold because the old one was getting…dare I say it…old? Or was this growing unease with my life due to something else like maturing? Gasp! My parents would love that. So naturally I pushed against it, but even with the rebellion against the restrictive ways of our country and the weight of a crown to keep me busy, there was a chasm in my life. I hated to consider what that crevasse might be, but it had increased in size since Anders had gone back to the States nine months ago, leaving me the lone queer in the castle. Even Rani had left, scurrying off to the UK to work with my sister-in-law, Lady Alva, as her personal assistant. Truly, it fucking sucked not being able to glimpse him from time to time. I’d let him slip through my fingers too, damn my foolish eyes.
“Do you want me to lie, or do you want the truth?” I asked and got a crinkle of his nose. “Fine, the truth. Of late, I feel as if the faster I drive, boat, run, or ride a horse, whatever it is that is pursuing me is not only keeping up but is damn close to overtaking me.”
“Are you speaking about reality or one of your abstract modern art dreams?” He ran his fingers through my hair as he spoke.
“That was one dream six years ago, Gustav.”
“Yes, but it was freaky. Who but you dreams of people he knows moving through the streets of Raivask as walking cube humans? It was very distressing when you told me about it the following morning.”
I will admit that was an unsettling dream. The good folk who lived in our nation’s capital did not in any way, shape, or form have two noses or mismatched eyes.
“That was only because we’d been to see that Picasso exhibit at Raivask Art Museum that night. Also, I may have indulged in a tiny little mushroom before going to bed.”
“Hmmm, yes, you and your indulgences.” He gave my scalp a good rub. “Are you positive, Harold? Straightening and lightening your hair will—”
“Be drastic. Yes, I know. Please, let’s do it. I think that it may do me good to be a new Harold for a while. If I hate it, I’ll just wear a wig until it grows out.”
“As you wish.” He gave my head a pat. “We’ll lighten first, then in a week or so you can come back to straighten. You’re staying in your apartment by the Akersalva so you can skip over when it’s time. No, do not bicker with me. You may be the prince, but I’m the ruler in this salon.”
Guess he told me.
My chair spun, and I was tipped back for a spray. Staring at the ceiling of Kron Tress, I let out a long breath as Gus began wetting my hair while gossiping about the newest scandal in the British royal family. I’d read about it online this morning. Not to be a shit, but it was nice to see someone else with regal blood being lambasted by the press for a change. Petty? Surely. But honest. I rather prided myself on my honesty of late. Papa hated it. Mama cringed over it. The rather conservative palace PR department winced every time I spoke out about being bisexual. No more hiding for the queer princes of Östermon. Those days were long gone. Some things deserved to stay in the past. Some people not so much…
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee.
(Not necessarily in that order.)
She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand.
EMAIL: vicki@vllocey.com
Laurel Holidays Series
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