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My 21st birthday was supposed to be champagne and cake. Instead, I got a dragon. Not a metaphorical dragon. An actual, fire-breathing, insufferably smug dragon named Ryn who walked into my bedroom and announced we were betrothed. Apparently, I signed a marriage contract when I was ten years old. (In my defense, I thought I was agreeing to extra dessert, not eternal matrimonial union with a creature who hoards books and has zero concept of personal boundaries.) The contract is binding. The options are limited: Pay him off with treasure we don't have Spend thirty days "getting to know each other" and then decide Sleep with him and annul afterward I chose option two. Mostly because option three terrified me. (Spoiler: option three happened anyway. Multiple times. In multiple locations. I regret nothing.) Now I have four weeks to decide if I want to spend forever with a dragon who: Destroyed all my undergarments on day one Makes me laugh while simultaneously wanting to strangle him Kissed me in front of my scandalized court Knows exactly how to make me scream his name And somehow made me fall completely, irrevocably in love with him My mother expects grandchildren within the year. My court expects a decision. Ryn expects me to choose him. And honestly? The dragon might be right.A standalone erotic comedy featuring a sheltered princess, a possessive dragon, contracts with unfortunate fine print, and enough steam to set the palace on fire. HEA guaranteed. Dragon stamina not exaggerated.