Dads Princess Quotes

Listen to me, kitten. Win or lose, you’ll always be a princess to me.

Would you like to borrow a pair of my panties to wave around at the next Council meeting to get the point across?” His eyes flashed. “Got any to spare?” I could’ve picked somebody rational. But no, I had to fall in love with this arrogant idiot. Come to the Keep with me, be my princess. Mourn me when your crazy dad kills me. Yeah, right.

She’s not just any Moroi. She’s royal. A princess. And you’ve seen how she is! Smart and strong and beautiful. She’s destined for great things, and one of them isn’t being involved with a controversial guardian like me. Her bloodline’s regal.Hell, I don’t even know who my dad is. Dating her is not even possible. My job is to protect her. To keep her safe. That’s where all my attention needs to be.

I'm half of my father. Half of my hero. And I am half of my mother. Half soft sighs and half sharp edges. And if they can be Carmindor and Amara--then somewhere in my blood and bones I can be too. I'm the lost princess. I'm the villain of my story, and the hero. Part of my mom and part of my dad. I am a fact of the universe. The Possible and the Impossible. I am not no one. I am my parents' daughter, and then I realize--I realize that in this universe they're alive too. They're alive through me. Fashioning my hands into a pistol, I point it at the ceiling, lifting my chin, raising my eyes against the blinding stage lights, and I ignite the stars.

You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born, no matter who your dad married.

Anna: Ash, I don't have anything planned with my Mother... She's dead. Ashley: What? Anna: She died when I was seven. She drowned. It's just my Dad and me. I didn't tell you before because I just wanted a fresh start here, because before I moved, everybody knew about it and... I'm sorry. Ashley: ....... You're like a Disney Princess!

Don't ever fall in love, princess. It hurts too damn much.

Snow White waited for the prince. You’ll be the one saving yourself in this story.” I blinked at him, thinking about what my dad used to say, his accent thick, almost as strong as his words. “You don’t need a prince, princess. You need a sword.

My brothers are idiots. Anyone can see that under the scars and the attitude, Isabeau is more fragile than she looks. And as a reclusive Hound princess, her first introduction to the royal family shouldn’t be a dose of Hypnos and four idiots gawking at her. If I’d managed not to gawk, they sure as hell could have. She was beautiful, fierce, and utterly unlike anyone I’d ever known. It was really hard not to gawk. Much better to pace outside her door with one of our Bouviers sitting at the top of the stairs watching me curiously. “This sucks, Boudicca,” I told her. “I don’t think we inherited Dad’s diplomacy.” She laid her chin on her paws. I could have sworn she rolled her eyes.

Nobility is a lie. A pretence that high standing comes from anything more than money or martial prowess. Any dolt can play the noble, and as you'll discover in time, daughter, it's mostly dolts who do.

If you’re better than Easton, then by way of experience, your dad has to be spectacular.

But a sweater? I mean,that is so unromantic.It is the kind of thing I would get my dad — if he wasn't so in need of anger-management manuals,which is what I got for him for Christmas.

Sandwiching Winter’s face in both hands, Jacin forced her gaze up to his. “Hey,” he said, somehow stern and gentle at the same time. “You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born, no matter who your dad married.” Her eyes misted. Reaching up, she folded her fingers over Jacin’s forearms. “And you are always my guard.” “That’s right.” The faintest touch. His calloused thumb against her temple. Winter’s whole body quivered.

I love you,” I murmured. “Love you more,” he retorted. I stiffened. “This is not a competition.” A grand declaration that I followed with, “But if it were, I’d win.” Because my dad taught me how to cheat.

I want one!” The girl stamped her foot just like Elaine had as a child. Maybe she was a princess too? “I don’t think your dad would approve of you getting a tattoo.” “He never approves of anything at all,” Serra frowned. “He’s so mean. You are much kinder. Maybe you can be my dad?” Hadjar choked. The girl’s innocence and naivety always amazed him.

I'm discovering that once somebody physically moves out of your life, it's impossible for things not to change no matter how hard you try to keep them the same. The place you keep in your heart for that person is always there but it gets smaller and smaller, and I just moved my dad from a spacious loft to a cramped studio. The fact is, he has to make room in his heart for a new baby, and I suspect the place in his heart for me will get smaller too. How could it not?

My dad died of cancer in the month when spirits walk among the living. He's still here because I'm having a hard time letting him go. I need him to help me sort out the feelings inside me, like the funnel clouds that drop from the sky when you least expect them. You may think I'm mad, but when you read my story, you'll see that it's not about madness. Its about hating the person you love the most. It's about the guilt that keeps October's dark chill in my heart and won't allow the spring to come in.

I’m the lost princess. I’m the villain of my story, and the hero. Part of my mom and part of my dad. I am a fact of the universe; the possible and the impossible. I am not no one.

But he’s wrong, because my dad definitely has testosterone—at least one testicle full—

Get to the point, Dad. I have a country to run.

I know I am sounding unreasonable, but, come on! He is in politics! And everyone knows every politicians’ middle name is BORING! No offense dad!” (Page 14)

OMG! My dad is the King of Genovia” (Page 23)

If there is one person right now that I hate the most, it would be my dad. Yup, and I mean it!” (Page 27)

Remind me to sneak you out of the bedroom window of your dad’s house more often. Look at Belle getting white-girl wasted,

I'm so sorry, princess.

So since my parents got divorced when I was young, my dad moved to this weird place in Europe. He also got married and sadly got cancer. He and his wife can’t have kids either.” (Page 25)

Hey,” he said, somehow stern and gentle at the same time. “You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born, no matter who your dad married.

Trust dear old Dad to pull out the big guns, and judging by the bulges these guys packed in their tight jeans, big might prove an understatement. And, surprise, they just happened to be my three favorite flavors!

Where are you going?” “Uh,” said Kami, eyeballing her wildly. “I’m going to buy some drugs.” Lillian stared. “I beg your pardon?” “This is a really stressful time for everyone,” said Kami. “So I thought maybe I could buy a little weed, take the edge off. I might be a while. This is a very clean-living town, apart from all the murders, so I don’t actually know any drug dealers. I realize Jared kind of looks like one, but he’s not, which is a shame because I think the drug dealer’s girlfriend gets her drugs free.” “I realize you are attempting to be humorous,” said Lillian, after a pause during which she stared some more. “I don’t understand it.” “Hey, you’re not the only family with a legacy. ‘Glass’ rhymes with ‘sass.’ Have you met my dad?” “I have had that dubious pleasure,” said Lillian. “He is, in fact, meant to be meeting me in order to, and I quote, ‘teach me to integrate better with society, display leadership skills, win over the populace, and stop acting like a robot princess from space.’ I admit that the humor in his humor escapes me as well.” She paused and suddenly looked determined. “I’m going to start without him.

Lucifer’s brows shot up. “What do you mean you just talked? Where is this idiot? I’m going to have a talk with him about defiling my daughter. Maybe he needs pointers.” “Dad!” I squealed. “That is so gross. And he doesn’t need any help. I told you I’m not having sex until I’m in love.

Also, my dad doesn’t have cancer anymore. But, did you just read the sentence before the last one. Yeh, you probably are reading it again now. And you know what that means right. If he is a King, and I am his next descendent, guess who is the next heir of the throne? Can you guess? BINGO! It’s me. Oh great.” (Page 25)

She says 'there will be other parties, sera, durrr,' only the next thing will be the thing at J's next weekend and even if I was invited I will be at Dad's. When I will have to be Princess Sera all over again. Which will be quite confusing for him what with Evil Witch Sera of Betchistan usually being the one who comes to stay.

I'd asked Dad for the millionth time if, now that I had a baby brother, I could stay in New York.........and Dad for the millionth time replied I had signed a contract and had to stick to it; when Michael said "Actually, sir, legally, minors can't enter into contracts, and so according to New York State law, you cannot hold Mia to any document she might have signed, as she was under sixteen at the time, making it invalid.

But more than that, when I lost my dad . . . I mean, my dad was a liar, but I loved him. Really loved him, so much that just knowing he isn’t on this planet still tears me in half whenever I think about it.” Even as I said it, the pain pressed into me, a crushing but familiar weight on every square inch of my body. “And with Jacques,” I went on, “we loved the best versions of each other, inside our picturesque life, but once things got ugly, there was just . . . nothing left between us. He didn’t love me when I wasn’t the fairy princess, you know? And I didn’t love him anymore either. There were thousands of times I’d thought, He is the perfect boyfriend. But once my dad was gone, and I was furious with him but also couldn’t stop missing him, I realized I’d never thought, Jacques is so perfectly my favorite person.” Gus nodded. “It didn’t overwhelm you to watch him sleep.

I'm half of my father. Half of my hero. And I am half of my mother. Half soft sighs and half sharp edges. And if they can be Carmindor and Amara--then somewhere in my blood and bones I can be too. I'm the lost princess. I'm the villain of my own story, and the hero. Part of my mom and part of my dad. I am a fact of the universe. The Possible and the Impossible. I am not no one. I am my parents' daughter, and then I realize--I realize that in this universe they're alive too. They're alive through me.

Maryan put a hand over her face. "Oh no. You pretended to be captured by bandits so that I'd come and meet Prince Hugo, didn't you?" "Isn't he the sweetest thing?" said her mother. "And so fashionable." "He's got like a million followers," said her father. "I'm not sure what that means, but many of my peers are impressed. And he's in line to inherit all the southern territories." Maryan glared at them. "Mom, Dad, you need to stop sending suitors after me. They keep getting eaten by servants of the underworld." Her father spread his hands. "A relationship requires work and sacrifice, Maryan.

You can be my avenging knight. Ooh! That’s what Princess X needs next: an avenging knight.” “You think?” “I’ve already decided. Your armor is gold, and you’re carrying a black battle-ax . . . I say we make you a redhead. You’ve got a little red in your hair, someplace. When the sunlight hits it just right.” “We’re in Seattle. How often does the sunlight hit anything?” “Walgreens is just right down the street. We could get a box of dye. It’d surprise the heck out of your dad.” “You’re going to make me do this, aren’t you?” “No, May. I’m not going to make you do anything, except help me finish the story.

I know I give Matt a hard time about turning in his man card, but the true definition of manhood is doing what needs to be done when it needs to be done. It doesn’t matter if it’s fixing hair, changing the oil in the car, or washing dishes. If it needs to be done it gets done. That’s manhood. It’s instilling in our daughters that dads can and will do anything that needs to be accomplished. I want to be the be-all and end-all when it comes to my daughter. I want to be the man that every other man has to look up to. I will treat her like a princess because if I don’t, she might go out and latch onto the first man who does. So yeah, I open car doors and I take her on dates and I buy her flowers for no reason. Because I want her to know she’s worthy of all of those things. And I fix hair.

A story of a princess named Ella, trapped at the top of a tower guarded by a dragon, forever gazing up at the stars and wishing she was free. And of handsome, charming princes in shining armor coming to her rescue but never succeeding. Never defeating the giant, fire-breathing dragon. And so the princess stayed in the tower, and I always wondered when the right prince would finally arrive to save her. I loved imagining that my life was a fairy tale. That I was really a princess, and my dad would ride in on his majestic horse to save me. That was before I grew up and found out about boys. My dad never did tell me the ending to that bedtime story. I asked him if the princess would be trapped in that tower forever, always waiting. He never gave me a straight answer, though, saying I had to figure out the ending for myself.

DAISY:I had sex with Liam. LAYLA:Is that your idea of a joke? It's too early in the morning. DAISY:We broke my bed and my desk and my collection of Disney princess teacups. LAYLA:OMG. I can't even... Are you CRAZY? DAISY:Maybe. LAYLA:He's supposed to be your FAKE fiancé. DAISY:It was just a onetime thing. I'm about to send him home. He's sleeping on my collection of stuffed pigs because there are splinters in my sheets. LAYLA:What are you going to do when your dad comes home? DAISY:Tell him I had a nightmare. LAYLA:I hope it's a nightmare and Sam is going to wake me up and I'll be in my bed not texting you in the middle of the night. DAISY:It was soooooo goooood. LAYLA:Stop. You're hurting my eyes. DAISY:He's waking up. LAYLA:We need to talk about this. Send him home now. Don't do anything stupid. DAISY:GTG. He wants MORE!

Tina was hosting. She's a thirty-five-year-old version of Sienne, only bottle blonde.Same blind-you lipstick, same taste in clothes,same complete disregard for anyone else's opinion on anything. They hate each other. "You hate me!" Sienna wailed. It wasn't Tina's voice that snapped back, but Dad's, "Oh,no. I am not playing that game with you. Do you have any idea what a hundred pounds of filet is gonna cost me? And now you want lobster?" "But it's my wedding! Daddy-" "Don't you Daddy me, princess! I'm already five grand in the hole for the damned hotel,not to mention two for the dress, and every time I turn around, you and your mother have added a new guest, bridesmaid,or crustacean!" First of all,Dad was yelling.Almost. Second,he was swearing.Even damn is fighting talk for him.I set down my pizza and debated the best route for a sealthy escape. I'd seen the dress.Pretty, in a Disney-princess, twenty-yards-of-tulle, boobs-shaped-into-missiles sort of way. Sienne looked deliriously happy in it. She looked beautiful.The less said about the bridesmaids' dressed, I'd decided, on seeing the purple sateen,the better. "No lobster!" he yelled. There was a dramatic howl, followed by the bang of the back door. When I peeked out,it was like a photo. Everything was frozen.Dad was standing over the massive pasta pot, red-faced and scowling, wooden spoon brandished like a sword. Leo and Ricky had retreated to the doorway of the freezer. Nonna had her eyes turned heavenward, and Tina was halfway through the dining room door, smirking a little.

She thought she was getting out of the Water Rising clean, because she didn’t see her father anywhere around: there was only Ash and Lillian sitting at a table, and a few other patrons at as much of a distance from Ash and Lillian as they could get. She made for the door, at which point Lillian caught her arm. “Where are you going?” “Uh,” said Kami, eyeballing her wildly. “I’m going to buy some drugs.” Lillian stared. “I beg your pardon?” “This is a really stressful time for everyone,” said Kami. “So I thought maybe I could buy a little weed, take the edge off. I might be a while. This is a very clean-living town, apart from all the murders, so I don’t actually know any drug dealers. I realize Jared kind of looks like one, but he’s not, which is a shame because I think the drug dealer’s girlfriend gets her drugs free.” “I realize you are attempting to be humorous,” said Lillian, after a pause during which she stared some more. “I don’t understand it.” “Hey, you’re not the only family with a legacy. ‘Glass’ rhymes with ‘sass.’ Have you met my dad?” “I have had that dubious pleasure,” said Lillian. “He is, in fact, meant to be meeting me in order to, and I quote, ‘teach me to integrate better with society, display leadership skills, win over the populace, and stop acting like a robot princess from space.’ I admit that the humor in his humor escapes me as well.” She paused and suddenly looked determined. “I’m going to start without him.” She climbed off the stool and headed toward the group of people in the corner. Kami and Ash watched as they collectively shrank away. “Come on, quick,” said Kami, and as if summoned by some spirit warning him of his child’s intended reckless behavior, her dad appeared through the inn doors. He looked distracted. “Where’s Lillian?’ Kami checked over her shoulder. “Appears to be trying to wrest a screaming baby from the arms of her frightened mother in order to kiss it.” “Oh no no no,” murmured Jon, and raised his voice as he made his way over. “Libba, we’ve talked about this!” “The good news is the grown-ups are distracted by politics,” said Kami. You mean that your poor father is distracted by my awful mother, said Ash, who was far too polite to say such a thing out loud and looked vaguely embarrassed to be thinking it. Kami grinned. “Why quibble when we have the results we want!” I wish I could ask you what you’re planning, but I know what you’re planning, said Ash. Lucky me. I know this is important information, but going to Aurimere at all is a huge risk. “See, the thing is, if I ran a business it would probably be called Risky Business,

That’s not true! Turtles mean something very specific in my culture.” “Oh yeah, warrior princess?” he says. “Like what?” “Turtles carry their homes on their backs.” Running her finger over the tattoo, she tells him what her dad told her: “They’re exposed and hidden at the same time. They’re a symbol of strength and perseverance.

Suffering, though, has always been Musk’s thing. The kids at school tortured him. His father played brutal mind games. Musk then abused himself by working inhumane hours and forever pushing his businesses to the edge. The idea of work-life balance seems meaningless in this context. For Musk, it’s just life, and his wife and kids try to fit into the show where they can. “I’m a pretty good dad,” Musk said. “I have the kids for slightly more than half the week and spend a fair bit of time with them. I also take them with me when I go out of town. Recently, we went to the Monaco Grand Prix and were hanging out with the prince and princess of Monaco. It all seemed quite normal to the kids, and they were blasé about it. They are growing up having a set of experiences that are extremely unusual, but you don’t realize experiences are unusual until you are much older. They’re just your experiences. They have good manners at meals.

Do you think there really is a Heaven?” Jamie asked, his small voice floating up into the darkness. I lay still, afraid to answer, because I wasn’t sure. “Yes, Jamie,” Mary said. “And tomorrow we’ll see Mum and Dad.” “And Bella,” I added. “She’ll bark the second she sees you.” Jamie giggled. To laugh at our own death seemed strange, but it was all we could do.

I have many weaknesses, and among them is a stubborn determination to keep all my children close to me. I think it stems from the years I had to spend in warfare, when I scarcely saw them at all.

All the times Mom and Dad fought when we were little, I hid out at Bridget’s house. If her dad had been drinking, we would pull down the frothy, pink netting around her four-poster bed and pretend we were princesses, safe in our castle with her Golden Retriever, Elsie, there to protect us, instead of two scared, little girls.

What I remembered most about Mom was how Dad’s eyes shone with love whenever he talked about her. I had loved going through the things in her closet and listening to his stories about her as he fingered the fabric of her favorite dresses, like he was telling me the world’s most important fairy tale—how they’d been best friends when they were kids and had thrilled everyone when they had gotten together as teenagers. I never wanted to dress up as Cinderella or Snow White, because Mom had been my favorite princess.

just wanted to forget what had happened and who I was for a few moments, but seeing all of the judgmental gazes on me, at least the latter wouldn’t happen. Keeping my head high, I showed my perfect spoiled princess face, giving them what they expected. They hated me because they thought I had everything when the things I wanted most were always out of my reach. Money could buy so many things, but never happiness or love. Heck, I couldn’t even choose the job I wanted. Dad would never allow me to be a part of the business, to do what I was born to do and follow the path that ran in my blood. I tossed my hair over my shoulder and ordered a bottle of champagne. My life was filled with all the riches money could buy and other girls hated me for it. I wondered if they’d still hate me if they knew of the invisible shackles around my wrists. Sometimes I just wanted to break free of them, but for me to do that, I’d have to leave the life I knew behind, and worse: my family.

Samantha Markle, who suffered from multiple sclerosis and was confined to a wheelchair, described her half sister as a “shallow social climber” whose behavior was “certainly not befitting of a royal family member.” She went on to say that “being a princess was something Meghan always dreamed of as a little girl. She always preferred Harry—she has a soft spot for gingers.” Samantha also accused Meghan of failing to come to the aid of their cash-strapped dad. The Windsors, she went on, would be “appalled by what she’s done to her own family.” Soon

My dad was the best dad in the world. “I love you, Dad. I won’t ever leave you. I’ll live with you and Mom forever.” Dad kissed my temple. “And I love you, princess.

Oh poor Princess Emerald, you’ve been fated to be frozen all day,’ said Dad, and he wrapped his arms round me.

It’s Lola and Micky,’ she said, and Lottie already knew what awful news was coming. ‘Their dad has passed away.

Young boy like you, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do, my love. You just rest and put your feet up. You’ve been at school all day.” Dad raised his eyes to the ceiling and gave Jake a nod. “Right then, Princess,” Dad said to me. “You go along and start running the bath; I’ll be with you in a bit. I need a word with Gloria.

paid for with a coin-operated meter. When the officials came round, the money was tipped out on to the kitchen table, counted and piled into pound stacks. Mum watched the counting process like a hawk, hoping there was more money than the bill required – meters were viewed as bonus moneyboxes. Every Friday night, Dad brought home his wages, and Mum dived in first. She put some aside in a teapot for the rent, then Dad would go to the fish-and-chip shop and queue for an hour: fish and chips was every family’s end-of-week treat. We often ran out of cash in our household so Mum had a slate at the corner shop and an account at the Co-op, which rewarded her with

Dad was right, you know. You’re not good enough for me.” Like a bullet to my chest, I’m bleeding out. Hearing those words from her is too much to bear. “I know I’m not, Princess. I never have been. I never will be. I’m trash and you’re a fucking treasure.

as alexander hamilton who shared my name with one phillp skylar my mother, and my father eliza who i told to steal my identy in the war, iam nothign more then proud of the work on my deathbed writing again. i always surive true imoratlity and amenia disorder wtih life like reborn disorders cant be cured. but as alexian smith the former princess diana and smauel sabery you just seem unread. unscripted. and missed the point of the burnings of heart and bon fires in reetribution to racism in state and notion. You miss the point of what occured or whatever relaxed to it. I dont hate having multiple personaltiis. or living forever in stupid wayward ideas. that donald bloke has a diosrder called idiocy where hes accidently racist and you liked him for that. no i still dont hate you as avery pines. and no matter what occured when i was tortured in stupid situations, worst then a single one and counting somehow creepily for all of them, because my dad was and i was not. you must understand the history of why it was a town you now never knew of the name of. and why it was occurance and why it was the stories of it. And why nobody knew the musical hamilton was about my father alexander of americas presdient and me the secretary of state. my real name is adam snowflake. and if you loved a dam thing i ever wrteo from death note to creepy stalkings or the kingdom diaries or lspds, and what i built at disney naimating snow white and aruara and filming hawkuseris abotu my lack of faith as scince lik ebuilding jeeus you would know i never often resented it after highschool. and its better to remember a dead name as dead. i am not the evil events that defined me. but i am all the pain of them. and that is my wolrd. And you are ar acit for demanding i be things liek civil war or holocuast. and you are a racist slutty loser like i and bad king actors were steryped to be. and no matter what ever occured or how casuality is evil when in office. i want you to know no matter what i study or why i dress. its th history of me being an emo teenage fagot, and my mother was abusive as reya. and just interputed me to scream her ass off as reya fine an adbucter when orphaned. its easy to blame a color when the person is faceless. did you know im half that story. and did you know in the way i looked like the one you liked? When you have a boogie man, its so easy to hate the things you try to stop. Fuck you ukraine im jewish. and i know what you took. and while i didnt go. Oh god can i never go by frank again as someone in a clsoet room who surived that. and i want you to know as adam i will never be what you did to me. but oh god did you amke it look liket he people from russia fuck you royal.

So what I want to know is, if my dad’s a prince, how come I have to learn Algebra? I mean, seriously.

Shacking up and procreating with a hockey player? Where do I sign up?” “You know your dad will never let that happen,” I argued. There was a wicked gleam in her eye. “Doesn’t mean I can’t keep trying. Eventually, I’ll break one of them.” “Can’t wait to see Ace have a stroke when you do.

Girl knows what she wants. Dad got fed, so she got jealous and wanted next dibs. Then, we’ll make sure to feed Mom.

I was STILL haunted by the horrible memory of making homemade ice cream at Thanksgiving and both Brianna and Dad getting their tongues stuck on the metal ice cream thingy!

Tessa Dahl A daughter of famed British novelist Roald Dahl, Tessa Dahl was a good friend of Diana’s and her colleague at several successful charities. A prolific writer and editor, Tessa is a regular contributor to many important British newspapers and magazines, including the Sunday Times, the Daily Mail, the Telegraph, Vogue and the Tatler. The only part that marred the night was, typically, my dad, Roald Dahl, who left at the interval. I was devastated, but that was his modus operandi. I wanted him to see me in the Royal Box. I fear most of the post-party was spent with me on the phone crying to him, after Diana had left and we had done the royal lineup. Gosh, she was always so good at that. Talk about doing her homework. Every single performer, she had time for, even knowing a little bit about each one. We didn’t see each other again until Bruce Oldfield’s ball. Diana had come with Prince Charles and looked really miserable. Beautiful, in a gold crown (with Joan Collins trying to outdo her--good luck, Joan), but still, she had a new aura of hopelessness. Although she did dance with Bruce to KC and the Sunshine Band’s “That’s the Way I Like It.” We stopped to talk. “How’s Daisy?” she asked kindly. She obviously knew that I had been having my baby down the hall in the same hospital and at the same time as she had had Prince Harry. “Actually, it’s a different bovine name. She’s called Clover.” I was touched that she had remembered that we had had our babies around the same time and that my little girl did have a good old-fashioned cow’s name. I asked, “Wasn’t it fun at the Lindo? I do love having babies.” “I’m afraid I find it rather disgusting,” she revealed. This, of course, was the famous time when Prince Charles had been so disparaging about Harry’s being a redhead.

You got me so fucking turned on I couldn’t stand up if the place were on fucking fire, princess.” He points toward my chocolate-milk container. “And all you did was touch your pretty little lips to a fucking milk carton.” He rubs his forehead as if he wants to rub the thoughts away. He looks into my eyes. “All I know is if you ever touched me with that mouth of yours, I would go off like a cannon, princess. I’d be the happiest man in the world, but ashamed of myself, because I have no control when it comes to you, apparently.” He grimaces and looks down toward his lap, adjusting his pants as he wiggles his hips. “Our situation is messed up for so many reasons that I can’t even think about going there with you. But all I can think about is going there with you.” He groans and shoves a piece of bacon in his mouth. His eyes don’t leave mine, though. “I got up this morning thoroughly prepared to ignore you today. But then there you were, and you were smiling at me.” He looks down at my mouth. “I couldn’t ignore you if I tried.” I take a deep breath, trying to rationalize my thoughts. But I can’t. I have never, ever felt like this before. My girlfriends have talked about it, but I have never felt it. Even when I go on dates, it’s like some part of me shuts down. But with Pete, nothing shuts down. Everything wakes up. He goes on to say, “I don’t want to want you.” My heart stutters. I get it. I don’t like it. But I get it. I nod. Nobody likes damaged goods. I get up from the table and pick up my plate. “Wait,” he calls. I can’t wait. If I wait, he might see the tears that are brimming in my eyes. “Princess,” he calls again. Suddenly, my shirt jerks and I can’t walk any farther. I look back and see his hand twisted in the tail end of my shirt. He leans over the table and presses his lips together. “Don’t walk away,” he says. But all I see is the hand fisted in my shirt. My heart stutters, and my breaths freeze in my chest. I can’t get away. I turn back and punch him directly in the face with the heel of my hand. He jerks, his eyes closing as he winces and snaps his head back. I chop his wrist with my fist. One, two… Next, I’ll go for his eyes. “Reagan!” Dad yells as he drops what he’s holding and rushes in my direction. He tackles Pete, who is still stunned from my punch to the face. They drop to the ground, with Pete rolling to the bottom. Dad flips him over and pulls his hands behind his back. “Reagan,” Dad grunts. “What happened?” Pete lays there on the ground. He’s not even putting up a fight. He just winces, his eyes shut tightly as a slow trickle of blood streams from his nose. “Stay down,” Dad warns. Pete nods, and he doesn’t move. But his eyes finally open, and they meet mine. I don’t know how to interpret that look at all or what to say. So, I turn and run back to the house. I run like the terrified little girl I am.

Then my dad shoved your face in the dirt.” She looks a little irked by that. “Hell, princess, if I watched my daughter clock some asshole, I’d immediately assume it was his fault. Your dad did the right thing.” I believe that. That’s what dads are for. Well, mine wasn’t, but I have Paul and the others. They would protect me with their lives. Her dad did nothing less than they would have done for me.

Thank you, Daddy," she said, kneeling beside him and kissing his cheek again as he forced the warm soup down. Autumn could be blunt and straightforward one second, tender and sweet the next. She was so much like Avery in that way. The thought touched his heart and brought a beloved memory forward. "I remember when your dad and I found out we were going to be parents. Avery was so sure we were having a little girl he started a betting pool with the physician's staff. Everyone had their money on us having a boy, but not your dad. 'His little princess', that's how he referred to you from the very beginning. Of course Avery had been right, but so had everyone else; none of that mattered to your dad. You should have seen him gloating in the doctor's office that day. Your dad always did like being right, probably about as much as he loved getting his way.

Princess?” He nods, his gaze lingering on my eyes, then my lips. He licks his and draws his lip ring into his mouth to play with it with his tongue. “Princess,” he says slowly. “You couldn’t be further from the truth,” I say. He has me pegged all wrong. “I doubt it.” He looks at me for a minute too long. My stomach flips. Suddenly, I hear the crash of boots stomping through the woods. I look up and see my dad walking toward us, a scowl on his face, and he has the hatchet in his hand. Pete immediately crosses his hands in front of his lap and steps away from me. “Go help with dinner,” Dad snaps at me. He glares at Pete. “Yes, sir,” I say. I take the sticks Pete has in his arms and smile at him. “See you later,” I whisper. “Don’t go,” he whispers back. “Who’s going to protect my nuts?” “Princesses don’t do that.” I grin at him and walk away.

I know I give Matt a hard time about turning in his man card, but the true definition of manhood is doing what needs to be done when it needs to be done. It doesn’t matter if it’s fixing hair, changing the oil in the car, or washing dishes. If it needs to be done, it gets done. That’s manhood. It’s instilling in our daughters that dads can and will do anything that needs to be accomplished. I want to be the be-all and end-all when it comes to my daughter. I want to be the man that every other man has to look up to. I will treat her like a princess because if I don’t, she might go out and latch on to the first man who does. So yeah, I open car doors and I take her on dates and I buy her flowers for no reason. Because I want her to know she’s worthy of all of those things. And I fix hair.

That is righteous, blondie! Hey, we need to come up with superhero names. How about capes—and codpieces? Just think about the idea for now, chew it over for a bit, let me know,” he said. “Hey, do you guys ever hear . . . voices?” I groaned. “All the time. I thought I was going crazy.” “Duude,” he said in agreement. “And before the Flash, all kinds of freaky shit was happening to me. I started speaking this weird language. And stuff started transforming—but only in front of me. I saw my cat walking on the ceiling, saw lava coming out of a faucet. The worst? I was doing this girl, and suddenly she looked like my gym teacher!” He shuddered. And I’d thought I had it bad. Matthew and Finn had also suffered. “What’d your parents think?” I asked, wondering if Finn had gotten institutionalized too. “Dad couldn’t handle my ‘erratic behavior’ anymore, so he pawned me off on Mom. Same result. They were just about to break out the straitjacket—or, worse, military school—when she got the brilliant idea to ship me from Malibu to North Carolina to rough it with my redneck cousins.” So Matthew and I hadn’t been the only ones deemed “damaged” by our folks. It made sense, though. I wondered what Selena’s story was. “Yeah, Mom figured they’d toughen me up mentally,” Finn said. “I can’t even make this shit up. Mental health—through the chugging of Natty Light, the chasing of hot hick ass, and the killing of ducks and bucks.

seats, the weather, and the complicated rules of the game. Because Stoneybrook had won the championship, we left the stands surrounded by screaming, dancing fans. Some of that spirit rubbed off. But mostly, the kids were itching to go home. Jessi said her sister seemed down and out when they arrived home. So she managed to convince her mom and dad to take the family out to an early dinner. You know how kids are. Becca’s dreams of a sleepover at Buckingham Palace had been dashed, but she cheered up just fine. From that day on, though, Princess Rebeccazzar was never again seen in the Ramsey house.

I wanted to practice my shooting, but I was so angry, I couldn't calm myself to aim properly. And all I could think of was what my dad would always tell me, "Keep a calm head before you shoot. You can be angry, you can pent up with so many emotions, but before you shoot, always keep your head calm and your shot will be perfect." Too bad my dad was a hypocrite. I highly doubt his head was calm when he took his final shot.

suddenly these doors burst open and the two boys came out and they were so excited. They were hopping up and down waiting for their mum and dad to come, and Diana whisked past the hand-shaking people and her whole face lit up, and she took her hat off and she scuttled down the whole length of the yacht as fast as she could and was hugging them and kissing them. Fincher’s photograph is one of the most famous ever taken of Diana, her arms outstretched, William launching himself into her embrace. She asked Fincher for a copy which she displayed in her dressing room at Kensington Palace. But it wasn’t the only picture on that roll of film. And then a few seconds behind her Prince Charles did the same thing. He came down, he was hugging and kissing the boys too. But the sad thing was that all the pictures that were used were her with her arms out, and nobody ever used a picture of him. I think he got a bad press with the children at that time. Everybody kept saying, ‘Oh, this awful father’ and everything, which wasn’t true. He’s always been a lovely father. But I think he wasn’t seen with the children and she was – and in a lot of high-profile places like Thorpe Park. And so people tended to see that and think, Where’s he? all the time.

Oh, what did your dad say looking at this mess of a car?” Her expression clouded over with the suddenness of a summer storm. She blinked, hands clasping in her lap. “Nothing. He died.” Ah, fuck. He took a step closer and kneeled down. He brushed a finger over her cheek. “I’m sorry, Maddie.” More rapid blinking, as if she was suppressing unshed tears. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” She shrugged one small shoulder, her lower lip quivering the tiniest bit. “I keep thinking about him. This morning . . .” She paused, and the delicate muscles in her neck worked as she swallowed. “The Swedish flop reminded me of him. He used to get one every Sunday morning.” That explained the trip to the bathroom. He stroked a thumb over her jaw, aching to kiss away her grief. “I’m sorry.” Bright eyes, an impossible shade of green, met his. “It was an accident.” At a loss for what to say, he curved his hand around her neck, working his fingers gently over the tight muscles there. “That must have been terrible for you.” She nodded. Her attention shifted, dropping to his mouth. Her pink tongue snuck out and licked at her bottom lip before retreating. He bit back a groan at the illicit images assaulting him. Jesus. Here she was talking about her dead father and all he could think about was defiling her. He pushed the impure thoughts away. “Is there anything I can do for you?” She shook her head. “I should get back to work.” He dropped his hand from her neck, refusing to think about how much he liked the feel of her skin under his palm. “Are you sure I can’t help you look?” “I want to do it myself,” she said, her voice still thick with emotion. “All right, Princess.

Daddy?” “I’m right here, baby.” Lumps form in my throat, going all the way down into the core of me. It’s his voice. His. Right there. I reach toward the doorknob but I don’t get to turn it. Nick smashes at me with his head, pushing against my lower jaw and cheek, like a blow. His muzzle moves my head away from the door. He presses his face in between me and the wood. Fur gets in my mouth. I spit it out and push at him. “That’s my dad. My dad.” I slap the door. “He’s on the other side. The pixies will get him.” Nick shows me his teeth. “I can’t lose him again, Nick.” The wolf snarls like he’s ready to bite. My head jerks back and away, but then I steady myself. “Get . . . out . . . of . . . the . . . way.” Pushing against his thick neck, I slam my hands against him over and over again, pummeling him. He doesn’t budge. “Move!” I order. “Move.” “Zara, is there a wolf in there with you? Do not trust him,” my dad’s voice says, calmly, really calmly. I grab a fistful of fur and freeze. All at once it hits me that something is not right. My dad would never be calm if I was in my bedroom with a wolf. He’d be stressed and screaming, breaking the door down, kicking it in like he did once when I was really little and had accidentally locked myself in the bathroom and couldn’t get the lock out of the bolt because it was so old. He’d kicked that door down, splintering the wood, clutching me to him. He’d kissed my forehead over and over again. “I’d never let anything happen to you, princess,” he’d said. “You’re my baby.” My dad would be kicking the door in. My dad would be saving me. “Let me in,” he says. “Zara . . .” Letting go of Nick, I stagger backward. My hands fly up to my mouth, covering it. Nick stops snarling at me and wags his fluffy tail. How would my dad know that it is a wolf in here and not a dog? How would he know that it isn’t pixies? I shudder. Nick pounds next to me, pressing his side against my legs. I drop my hands and plunge my fingers into his fur, burying them there, looking for something. Maybe comfort. Maybe warmth. Maybe strength. Maybe all three.

micro second, I could see Mishy and I doing an aerial somersault and being pinged like a sling shot off the bike, landing ungracefully  in the gutter, probably head first into a steaming pile of dog poo. Miraculously, (well not really, because I used my witch craft) Mishy was able to steer the bike to safety as her tyres magically ploughed through the bike on the ground. She kept saying over and over, “What just happened, what just happened? I thought we were dead!” I said to her, “Its ok Mish, you saved our lives.” “Sorry guys,” a timid voice popped out from behind the tree. “It was kind of lying against the tree when I left it. It must have fallen down. I hope you’re both ok.” As soon as I saw Kaitlyn sheepishly step out from behind the tree, it suddenly clicked as to what had been missing back at Koolbar. It was Kaitlyn. She wasn’t there and she was always dutifully there with Tiffany. Kaitlyn Ramsay was part of the princess gang, though she wasn’t as fake as the rest of them. Every Friday the four of them always sat in a corner of Koolbar, slurping on their shakes and getting guys to slurp on their every word. I don’t think I’ve ever been there on a Friday when the four of them weren’t huddled up together batting eyelids and preening themselves, whispering and fussing. Which is why it seemed so strange when I didn’t see her. As she stood under the branches, the sun sprinkling filtered light onto her face, I could see that her normally creamy colored complexion was blotchy, and her eyes were red and hazy. Her makeup was streaky under her eye’s with smudges of black casting shadows. She looked a little bit like Dracula’s daughter meets prom queen Barbie, but she put on this big phony smile as though nothing was wrong. As if! Did she think we were born under a rock? “So what’s happening guys?” She tried to sound cheery. “Nothing much, we’re just on the way home from Koolbar,” Mishy replied. “What about you? What are you doing hanging around a tree?” “Yeah Kaitlyn, we didn’t see you at Koolbar. What’s the deal? You’re always there on a Friday with the others.” Kaitlyn’s face crumpled momentarily when I questioned her, then just as quickly went a fake shade of happy again. “Agh, I didn’t really want to go today. I have aghh ….some other things I want to do,” she stuttered, searching for words. “Like bird watching?” Mishy giggled. “You didn’t want to go? That’s not like you Kaitlyn.” I added. “So are you two going straight home now?” Obvious change of subject from Kaitlyn. “Yeah I have to babysit my kid brother while my mom and dad go out on their date night. “Aren’t your parents married?” “Yes, they just like to have a date night once a week where they don’t have to be bothered by us kids. Apparently

As an adult, I’ve grieved not having had my dad around to call me princess, to tell me how beautiful I was and to threaten the boys I dated. I’ve mourned the loss of not having a dad I could curl up and feel secure with. A dad who would teach me how to be a self-respecting woman. A dad who would remind me that I was valued and worth more than perhaps I believed I was.

I said no. End of discussion.” “But, Dad, it’s not to get boys to notice me! The shirt is cute!” “I have no doubt the shirt is cute. I also said no.”… She throws her arms up in the air and screeches, “Inconceivable!” before stomping away. It’s possible we may have made her watch The Princess Bride one too many times. Barrett roars with laughter at her response, smiles my way, clearly satisfied with the way his end of the discussion went.

My stomach churned and my eyes became wet. A dad coming to pick up his little princess and hugging her as if he had found gold. What a kind, sweet gesture, yet simple and free. A gesture I had never had.

Did he really just ask me to take Ash out tonight? Was he insane? He didn’t deserve her. Any guy who would blow her off for something his daddy wanted shouldn’t get to have her. “Sure,” I replied, hearing the clipped tone in my voice. Stupid-ass cousin of mine had no clue what he was asking for. I was already headed for hell; I might as well enjoy the ride. “Great, thanks, man. Her favorite place to eat is the Seafood Shack. Just meet us there at six. I can grab a drink and spend a few minutes with you guys until I have to head out and meet Dad.” She hated the fried shrimp at the Seafood Shack, and their sweet tea always tasted bitter. It was Sawyer’s favorite place, and she had no doubt agreed with him that it was the best place to eat in town. He didn’t know her at all. “Since I’m agreeing to help out, let’s do this my way. I hate the Seafood Shack. I’m sure Princess Ashton won’t mind slumming it at Hank’s. The burgers there are better than anything the Seafood Shack has, and she really needs to taste their sweet tea.” Sawyer frowned a moment, then he nodded. “Okay, Ash’s agreeable. I’m sure she’ll be fine with Hank’s. I’ve not taken her there but a couple of times, and I think she might agree with you on the burgers. I remember her scarfing one down.” With bacon and cheese on a toasted bun. She even makes these cute little sounds of pleasure as she eats one. One of the many things I couldn’t believe he didn’t know about her.

SEVEN YEARS AGO… “You notice anything different about Ash?” my cousin Sawyer asked as he climbed up the tree to sit beside me on our favorite limb overlooking the lake. I shrugged, not sure how to answer his question. Sure, I’d noticed things about Ash lately. Like the way her eyes kind of sparkled when she laughed and how pretty her legs looked in shorts. But there was no way I was confessing those things to Sawyer. He’d tell Ash, and they’d both laugh their butts off. “No,” I replied, not looking at Sawyer for fear he’d be able to tell I was lying. “I heard Mom talking to Dad the other day, saying how you and me would start noticing Ash differently real soon. She said Ash was turning into a beauty, and things between the three of us would change. I don’t want things to change,” Sawyer said with a touch of concern in his voice. I couldn’t look at him. Instead I kept my eyes fixed on the lake. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Ash is Ash. Sure, she’s always been pretty, I guess, but that’s not what’s important. She can climb a tree faster than either of us, she baits her own hook, and she can fill up water balloons like a pro. The three of us have been best friends since preschool. That won’t change.” I chanced a glance at Sawyer. My speech sounded pretty convincing, even to me. Sawyer smiled and nodded. “You’re right. Who cares that she’s got hair like some kind of fairy princess? She’s Ash. Speaking of water balloons, could you two please stop sneaking out and throwing them at cars right outside my house at night? My parents are gonna catch y’all one of these days, and I won’t be able to get y’all outta trouble.” I grinned, thinking about Ash covering her mouth to silence her giggles last night when we’d snuck down there to fill up the balloons. That girl sure loved to break rules--almost as much as I did. “I heard my name.” Ash’s voice startled me. “You two better not still be making fun of me about this stupid bra Mama’s making me wear. I’ve had it with the jokes. I’ll break both your noses if it doesn’t stop.” She was standing at the bottom of the tree with a bucket of crickets in one hand and a fishing pole in the other. “Are we gonna fish or had y’all rather just stare down at me like I’ve grown another head?