Royally Indecent - Kelly Jamieson

Royally Indecent


This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Royally Indecent © 2022 by Kelly Jamieson

Cover by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

Editing by Sasha Knight

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33


Author Note

Excerpt: Rule of Three

Other Books by Kelly Jamieson

About the Author




“You’d look good knocked up.”

My mouth drops open as I stare across the small table in the restaurant. Considering this is my first date with Berk, in fact the first time we’ve ever met, that seems…inappropriate. I shift on my chair, not even sure what to say to him.

He smiles. “Getting ahead of myself, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” I blink a few times and look down at the table. I’m not very experienced at dating but this doesn’t feel like a good start. Am I being prudish? Maybe he was making a joke. Should I laugh? God, I feel like an idiot.

Luckily our server arrives with our dinners, so I sit back in my chair while she sets the plate of pasta in front of me. I’ve never been to this restaurant, Berk suggested it, but it seems nice, although the tables are close together. The place is full, which should be a good sign.

“So you said you’re a work from home consultant,” I remark in an effort to get things back on track and have a conversation. “What kind of consulting do you do?”

“My background is in finance.”

“Have you been doing consulting work for a long time?”

“No, this is pretty new. I decided that whole climbing the corporate ladder and waiting in line for the C-suite isn’t for me. I don’t want to wait to start working on corporate-wide strategic problems. As a consultant I can do that right now.”

“Awesome. Who are some of your clients?”

“Well, I don’t actually have any yet.”

“Oh. So this is really new.”

“Yeah.” He shifts his gaze away from me. “They did some redundancy elimination at my last employer about a month ago. Time to move on to new opportunities.”

He got fired and he’s unemployed. Great.

This is what I get for going on my first date from a dating app.

I rarely go out on dates, and when I do it’s usually someone my dad has introduced me to, someone he thinks is suitable. And safe.

But I’m tired of my dad picking my dates. It’s ridiculous. I’m tired of my whole sheltered, safe life. The dating app seemed daring and exciting and, well, normal.

Berk has an attractive face, clean shaven with a bit of a cocky smirk. I went for the superficial, I admit it, but so far he’s not living up to his profile pic.

“Well, I’m sure you’re working hard at it, and will soon have all kinds of clients.” I smile as I pick up a pumpkin ravioli on my fork.

“Oh yeah, it’s gonna be great. And how about you? You said you work for a non-profit.”

“That’s right. I work for the Morgan Institute for Democracy.”

“Wow, that sounds exciting.”

That was totally sarcasm in his tone. I suck briefly on my bottom lip, repressing my fuck you.

Okay, I just want this over with. I try to keep the conversation going as we eat and I’m eating way too fast because I want out of here.

“Wow, you’re really shoveling the food in.” Berk smirks. “But at least I know you can swallow, right?”

Again, I stare at him blankly. He can’t mean what I think he means. What is happening to me? My temples throb. “That’s totally not appropriate.” Oh my god, I sound like an old lady.

“Bah.” He dismisses me with a wave of his hand, then pulls something out of his pocket and holds the small square packet up between his fingers. “So is this getting used tonight or what?”

I focus on what he’s holding. It takes a few painful seconds for me to clue in that he’s holding a condom. “Oh, for god’s sake.” My patience gone, my cheeks hot, I glance around the restaurant. Keeping my voice