Exclusive excerpt: 'Royal Wedding' by Meg Cabot

Today Meg Cabot joins us to share an excerpt from Royal Wedding (out today!), the first adult novel in her beloved Princess Diaries world.

First, here's the blurb (courtesy of William Morrow Paperbacks):

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Princess Diaries series, comes the very first adult installment, which follows Princess Mia and her Prince Charming as they plan their fairy tale wedding—but a few poisoned apples could turn this happily-ever-after into a royal nightmare.

For Princess Mia, the past five years since college graduation have been a whirlwind of activity, what with living in New York City, running her new teen community center, being madly in love, and attending royal engagements. And speaking of engagements. Mia's gorgeous longtime boyfriend Michael managed to clear both their schedules just long enough for an exotic (and very private) Caribbean island interlude where he popped the question! Of course Mia didn't need to consult her diary to know that her answer was a royal oui.

But now Mia has a scandal of majestic proportions to contend with: Her grandmother's leaked "fake" wedding plans to the press that could cause even normally calm Michael to become a runaway groom. Worse, a scheming politico is trying to force Mia's father from the throne, all because of a royal secret that could leave Genovia without a monarch. Can Mia prove to everyone—especially herself—that she's not only ready to wed, but ready to rule as well?

Meg sets the scene for us ...

Meg: I can't believe it's been a decade and a half since we first met that so not-ready-for-royalty princess, Mia Thermopolis, and six years since we last saw a book about about her! She — and we — have come a long way since then, from barely passing algebra to graduating from high school (and saving Genovia, her kingdom, from financial ruin)!

And now it's here at last: The first installment in the series that so many readers have been waiting for (and those who aren't familiar with Mia's secret diaries will enjoy, too, because who doesn't love peeking into someone's personal journals?). In this exclusive excerpt, Mia has been whisked off to a private island in the Bahamas for her 26th birthday by her longtime boyfriend, medical entrepreneur Michael Moscovitz. Their relationship has recently begun to feel a bit distant, and Mia's only now beginning to realize why.

I hope you'll enjoy this trip back to Genovia! Long live Princess Mia!

EXCERPT

1:00 a.m., Sunday, May 3, Sleepy Palm Cay, The Exumas, Bahamas

Must write this quickly because I don't want Michael to wake up and discover me out of bed writing in my diary in the bathroom like a lunatic.

But I found out what the shadows in his eyes are all about, and why he's been looking so serious lately. I knew there was something. And it isn't because he's passing another kidney stone, been cheating on me with a music blogger, or that he wants to break up so he can have a normal life.

It's the complete opposite of all those things.

I started getting suspicious this evening when Mo Mo brought a helper with him—he'd never done that before when setting up for any meals. The helper was a professional chef named Gretel.

Mo Mo set up a little table for two in the sand, looking out toward the sunset, with a white tablecloth and two rattan armchairs. Then he sank a couple of tiki torches into the sand and lit them.

Meanwhile, Gretel was setting the table and laying out all the food, which I couldn't help noticing included several things that have lately become my favorites, such as grilled shrimp in pasta with mozzarella, jumbo lump crab cakes, and tuna tataki.

Also, Michael had actually gotten dressed—and I was pretty sure it wasn't just for Gretel's sake, because he'd changed out of his board shorts into real pants, long khakis, and a white button-down shirt.

I also spied a bottle of champagne sitting on ice in silver coolers.

I didn't want to think anything was going on other than a nice Saturday-night dinner, despite what the press (and Tina Hakim Baba) has been saying for AGES. I love romance novels, too, but as I keep telling Tina, in real life things don't always work out that way.

But suddenly it seemed possible Tina could be right for once. She's been asking me some odd questions lately, though I thought they were related to her breakup with Boris, or her love of The Bachelor.

"Which do you think is more romantic," Tina asked me not even a week ago, "finding an engagement ring in a conch shell or a champagne glass?"

"Neither," I had replied. "Both are better than a big public proposal, like on a Jumbotron, which you know is the worst, because what if the person being proposed to wants to say no? She'd feel terrible."

"I know, but if you had to pick one."

"A champagne glass, I guess. Sticking a ring in a conch shell would probably kill the conch if there were one alive in the shell."

"True," Tina said.

"Which did The Bachelor do?" I asked her.

"Oh," she said. "Uh, conch shell."

"Typical," I said.

So when I suddenly saw Michael had put on a shirt, I thought, What if it isn't because he simply feels like dressing up for dinner? What if he's going to propose?

Of course there was that ever-present voice of self-doubt in my head (that probably all those people who see me in magazines would never believe exists, because of the way I project myself publicly) that whispered: Don't be an idiot. He's not going to propose. He's going to announce the news that he can't take it anymore, and break up with you!

But as Mr. Spock would say on Star Trek, that's not logical. No one brings a woman all the way to the Exumas to break up with her. So I quickly squashed that voice.

My next, more rational thought was, Or what if he has a ring in his pocket?

I decided Paolo was right: I do need to enjoy my diamond shoes. Not only enjoy them, but start dancing in them.

So I ran inside and showered and put on the nice sundress that Marie Rose had, thankfully, packed for me. Then I added some mascara and came rushing back out, my hair nicely combed (since, whether I was getting broken up with or proposed to, I didn't want it to be while I was wearing a swimsuit, my oldest Havaianas, and Michael's own New York Yankees T-shirt with the holes under the sleeve, with my hair in a ratty knot on top of my head).

But even though I'd been very quick, by my estimation, Mo Mo and Gretel and the boat were long gone, and there was only Michael standing there ...

... at the end of a path of pink rose petals someone had scattered from the porch of the cabana, where I was, to the little table, where Michael stood, holding a glass of champagne for me.

"Thirsty?" he asked. Behind him, the tiki torches were flaming merrily away.

Okay. I was probably not getting broken up with.

"Um," I said. "Sure." I followed the trail of roses through the sand to where he was standing and took the champagne glass from him. "Thanks."

He smiled and clinked my glass with his and said, "Cheers," and all of my insides (and some of my outsides) seemed to melt because I saw that the playfulness in his smile reached his eyes, and though the darkness there might have been as deep as the ocean beyond the reef— which was quite serious, because Mo Mo had warned us there were sharks there—he was finally welcoming me to dive in. In fact, he was grinning ear to ear.

"Okay," I said, lowering my glass. "What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" He lowered his glass, too. "Nothing's going on."

"Something is definitely going on. There are rose petals scattered on the beach and you're smiling in a weird way."

"I'm merely enjoying a romantic meal with the woman I love. Is that so wrong?" He pulled a chair out for me, the one that had the best view of the sea and the sunset, which had turned the sky a dramatic pink and periwinkle blue.

"It's weird," I said, taking the seat. "I love you, but you're acting very weird. You have a weird look in your eye. You've had it for a few weeks now. Don't try to deny it. I thought you were having another kidney stone."

Michael handed me a napkin. "It's a tragedy when a man can't enjoy dinner with the woman he loves without being castigated by her as weird."

"I didn't say you're weird, I said you're acting weird."

"You also said you thought I was having a kidney stone."

"Well," I said, "you know how you get."

"Apparently I do not, since I thought I was behaving in a perfectly normal manner."

"No, you were clearly hiding something from me."

"I can assure it's not a kidney stone."

"Well, then, what—?" That's when something hard struck my lip—something that had been inside the champagne glass.

At first I thought it was a strawberry—everyone loves cutting up strawberries and sticking them on the side of champagne glasses, which is simply annoying, as it takes up a lot of room where delicious champagne could be.

But then, when I looked inside my glass, I saw that what was in it was not a strawberry, but something that glittered like metal.

My heart stopped, and not from a myocardial infarction.

Find out more about Meg and her books at www.megcabot.com.