BLOG TOUR – EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT – To Save His Prince, An Ice Dragon Tale by Hurri Cosmo – #Excerpt #Giveaway

To Save His Prince, An Ice Dragon Tale by Hurri Cosmo


p style=”text-align: center;”>Series: Ice Dragon Tales #4
Publisher: Self-Published
Release Date: 9/21/18
Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: Novel / 77,000 words

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, hurt/comfort, Prince/servant, MPreg, Magic

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Emory is a humble kitchen servant intent on working hard so he can continue to earn his daily crust of bread. It is a thankless, back-breaking job, but it is exactly where Emory wants to be. In the magnificent West Quay castle. Because that is where the incredibly handsome, extremely talented Crown Prince Riffyn lives. The beautiful, kind, and attentive man stole Emory’s heart years before when he rescued him and his mother from a band of thieves. Now Emory’s only wish is to be close, so he can simply admire and serve the man.

But a great evil walks the halls of the castle, and Emory stumbles on a heinous plot to not only kill the prince but a possible plan to overthrow the Kingdom. A wicked scheme that includes the use of magic. Of course, being a lowly servant, no one believes Emory when he tries to raise the alarm, including the prince, who has been commanded to choose a bride now, or one will be chosen for him. Even as Emory’s heart breaks for his prince, he has to find a way to save him. But how, when no one, not even the king, the prince’s own father, can be trusted?

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Emory was surprised when he opened his eyes next. The room was bathed in bright sunlight. Sucking in a breath for sleeping so late into the day, he shot out of the bed and headed for the door he shared with the prince’s chambers. He grabbed the handle and pushed just enough to see what he could be facing upon entering the prince’s room.

Riffyn was up and sitting at his desk, a tray of what must be breakfast sat beside him. Emory could smell the coffee from where he stood, and he longed for just a taste. But then other fragrances assaulted him. There was bacon and fresh bread, possibly something cinnamon, all sitting on that tray.
“Thank you, Duncan,” the prince said.


Emory had totally missed the servant who had brought the tray in. Duncan moved around the prince, his attention on the man’s torso, which was bare and breathtaking. Evidently, Riffyn had only just woke as well. He sat, shuffling papers, as if searching for one in particular. Emory couldn’t help but stare at the prince. Oh, how he wanted to touch him, suck on those dark nipples.

“Let me pour your coffee, Your Highness,” Duncan breathed from behind the prince, far too close to the prince’s ear. But Riffyn gave no reaction at all. He seemed to be intent on the paper he now held in his hand.
Duncan poured the coffee and handed the mug to Riffyn. “Your Highness?”

“Ahh. Yes. Thank you.” Riffyn took the mug and sipped the steaming liquid as he gazed up at Duncan, who had come around the front again. “You have done well, Duncan.” The prince seemed to coo and then smiled at Duncan, who beamed back. Emory’s heart squeezed tight with jealousy, wishing it was him who the prince gave that smile. So much so, he wanted to cry. But then Emory must have made some sort of noise because the prince glanced over at him standing hiding in the doorway.

“Emory! You’re finally awake. Come out. Breakfast is served. There is plenty for the both of us.”
Emory stepped out from the doorway. He could do nothing else when the prince commanded him. But he did not relish the fact that Duncan startled at the sound of his name and swung around, eyes as big as the plates he had brought in.

“Emory? What are you doing in the prince’s chambers?”

His tone was accusatory, one of authority, gruff and hateful. In all other instances, Emory would have shrunk at its harshness, knowing he had to have committed a heinous crime. But that was not the case here. He had done nothing wrong. Still, his heart jumped painfully, and he did stop immediately, his stomach protesting, probably believing it was going to be starved of food again for possibly days as was the usual punishment. But then Emory’s gaze met Riffyn’s and he instantly calmed.

“Duncan,” the prince challenged quietly from behind him. “Do you believe I need to explain myself to you when I have a guest in my chambers? Is that your place?”

Duncan scowled at Emory before he turned back to Riffyn. “No, my prince. I apologize for my rudeness. Forgive me, Your Highness.” To Duncan’s credit, he did appear to be apologetic. He waited, hands behind his back, and Emory could tell his gaze was on the floor in front of him even though he was turned away from him. Riffyn glanced up to Emory, smiled, and winked, before he answered Duncan.

“You are forgiven. But it will never happen again, correct?”

“No, Your Highness. Never.”

“Good. You are excused.” Once again, Riffyn glanced toward Emory. “Come, Emory. Sit. I will pour you some coffee.” Riffyn picked up the decanter and poured the contents into an empty bowl. “I apologize I did not have two mugs brought up, but I think you should be able to manage.”

Emory hurried to the desk and took the offered bowl, wanting to remind the prince he was not supposed to be serving him, but due to the fact Duncan had yet to actually leave the room, he chose not to say anything. He hazarded a glance at Duncan and the daggers the man was shooting with his eyes made Emory shiver.
“Are you still chilled from last night? You should have brought a blanket with you.” Riffyn rose and walked to his own messy bed, grabbed the top cover, and pulled it off. It was then that Emory realized he had forgotten about his own state of dress, which was only a borrowed nightshirt, clearly too large for him. It was thankfully rather long, but his legs were still very bare, and he couldn’t even fathom how it must appear to Duncan. Riffyn walked to Emory, swept the blanket around his shoulders, and guided him, with his arm around him, to sit in the chair in front of his desk. “As you can see, we have your amazing fresh sweet rolls. You might actually be tired of them, being you work in the kitchen, but they are my favorite.”

“I’ve… never had them, Your Highness.”

“What? Are you serious? Oh yes. The incomparable Master Merrill. I will see to him today. In the meantime, I dare to say, Emory, you are in for a treat.”

Emory had his back to Duncan now, so he couldn’t see him, but he could feel the loathing pouring off him. Then, gratefully, the doors clicked shut, which told him Duncan had finally left and most likely gone running to tell the kitchen master about Emory’s horrible impropriety of being half naked in the crown prince’s chambers. It would be all over the castle before the next sunrise.


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☆ Exclusive Excerpt ☆

Instant irritation rose in him when Duncan declared the prince as his. But it couldn’t matter. Too much time was being wasted with this inane chitchat. Emory needed to find Prince Riffyn. There was most likely nothing at all wrong. He knew he was also upset about the possibility the woman with whom the prince danced out the door could end up being his bride.

No. He wasn’t going to think about that either. He simply needed to make sure the prince was safe.

“You know, you’re exactly right. I had nothing to do with it at all. I have to… um… I need to… go.” He grinned at Duncan and shrugged. Offering no other explanation and hoping Duncan wouldn’t demand one, he took off toward the doors to the garden.

Duncan called out. “Wait!”

But he was certainly not going to stand there and listen to Duncan gush about the prince. He burst through the doors and quickly closed them behind him.

Perusing the area, he found no one.

Where could they be? He listened for them but could hear nothing above the noise of the party going on behind him. Even after he closed the doors, the sounds of the night, like the frogs in the pond off to the east of the castle and the wind that had picked up since the sun went down, made it all but impossible to hear anything specific.

And, of course, there couldn’t be just one path leading off into the garden. No, there were several. One led off to the left, two to the right, and one straight ahead, leaving Emory in a quandary as to which one the prince and princess took. And that was only if they were out here, although logic dictated, due to the actions of the other two princesses, they were. But time had become short and he needed to pick a path.

There was a tingle at the back of his neck and his mind whispered for him to go left.

That had never happened before. Very strange. But left was as good a choice as any. He turned to the left.

Being as quiet as he could, he jogged around a couple of topiaries, a stone bench, and huge empty pots just waiting for the spring flowers that would fill them. That was the other thing. It wasn’t exactly cold out like it had been just a week or so ago, but it wasn’t warm either, and it was odd for the prince to think this was a good idea to take some leisurely walk in the garden.

Rounding the next corner had Emory nearly crashing into the clearing where the prince and princess were standing. Somehow, he was able to stay hidden. He was actually surprised the prince hadn’t heard him, that he hadn’t seen movement out of the corner of his eye, at least something. He knew Riffyn’s alertness and reflexes to be very sharp. But as Emory peered through the branches of the evergreen he was hiding behind, not twenty feet away, he could see neither of them knew he was here with them.

The prince seemed okay. He was smiling like an idiot, though. That was strange, wasn’t it? Maybe not. Because his full attention was on the princess who had just put her arms around his neck and was pulling him down into a kiss. In a single skipped heartbeat, Emory realized Riffyn was returning her kiss. He had wrapped his arms about the woman’s waist and was holding her close, kissing her as if he was already married to her. Emory sunk down to the ground.

What am I doing spying on such an intimate moment? He needed to quit obsessing about the man and let him go about the business of being the crown prince. A chill raced through Emory that cut right through to his bones, one that had nothing to do with the temperature.


Emory raised himself up again to study the situation one more time. If nothing was out of the ordinary, he was going to go inside. The prince clearly didn’t need him. Maybe he would grab some more food and escape up to his little room. His head still hurt from earlier, and he honestly could stand to lie down for a while.

They were just talking now. Low. Very close. Emory couldn’t make out many words. “You’re so beautiful” and “You’re so big and strong,” were about it. Emory wanted to gag. Riffyn must have said something funny because she was laughing. Tittering, actually. She sounded more like a tiny, very fake, irritating bird. The prince turned to her and leaned in to kiss her lightly. Seemed he liked her ridiculous little sounds. Emory wanted to throw up.

But then something strange happened. Midkiss the prince jerked back. “What… Ohh! I’m sorry, Princess Kristiel. I have no idea what I…” Riffyn stepped back, touching his own lips and glancing around as if he had no idea where he was. “I have overstepped my bounds, Your Highness, please forgive me. I should never have…”

Emory was confused.

“Riffyn. Relax. It’s fine. I wanted you to kiss me.”


At the same time Riffyn was seemingly stumbling back away from the princess, she reached into a small silky purse hanging on her arm, mumbling something Emory didn’t catch. But when she brought her fisted hand out and threw whatever it was she was holding at the prince’s face, Emory raised his hand as well and whispered.

“Stop.” Which, of course, was ridiculous. He had no hope of stopping whatever it was she threw at the prince from all the way back where he was crouching.

But then something else very strange happened.

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Meet the Author

Hurri Cosmo lives in Minnesota where she holds tight to the idea that there, where it’s cold a good part of the year, she won’t age as fast. Yep, she avoids the truth as much as she avoids mirrors. But one of the reasons she loves writing is reality doesn’t always offer up a “happily ever after” and being able to take control of that is a powerful lure. Being a happy ending junkie, writing just makes them easier to find. Oh, she doesn’t mind “real life” and she does try to at least keep it in mind when she writes her stories, but she truly loves creating a wonderful couple, knowing they will fall in love and have their HEA. Every – single – time. And, of course, that is exactly the reason she loves reading this genre, too. Give her a glass of red wine, some dark chocolate, and her computer, whether she is reading or writing, and she will entertain herself for hours. The fact she actually gets paid to do it is Snickers bars on the frosting on the cake.

Website | Facebook | Twitter (@HurriCosmo) | eMail

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