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Cover Reveal: PRINCE OF THE PALISADES by Julian Winters

Cover reveal! Young Royals meets Red, White, and Royal Blue in Prince of the Palisades, a heart-pumping romance by award-winning author Julian Winters! On shelves August 20, 2024.

When roguish Prince Jadon of Îles de la Rêverie is left in America to clean up his image after a horribly public break-up gone viral, romance is not on the table. Carefully planned photo ops with puppies? Yes. Scheduled appearances with the Santa Monica elite Absolutely. Rendezvous with a pink-haired, film-obsessed hottie from the private school where he’s currently enrolled? Uhhhh . . .  Together with his entourage—a bitingly witty royal guard, Rêverie’s future queen (and Jadon’s brilliant older sister), and a quirky royal liaison—Jadon’s on a mission to turn things around and show his parents, and his country, that he’s more than just a royal screw-up. If he doesn’t prove that he’s the prince Rêverie deserves? Well, he may not be allowed home . . . But falling for a not-so-royal American boy has Jadon redefining what it means to be a leader. If he can be someone’s Prince Charming just by being himself, maybe that’s all it takes to win over a nation. Or at least a prince can dream . . .

Scroll down to see the cover and read a sneak peek. And remember to preorder your copy.

Cover design by Kaitlin Yang; Cover illustrations by Natalia Agatte

Never believe the headlines.

It’s Royal Etiquette 101. Almost everything you read on- line or see on the news is dramatized for viewership. “Facts” is a loose term in the world of celebrity journalism. A lesson I learned while teething. And yet here I am, literal seconds from tossing my phone into the Pacific Ocean after watching the latest clip of everyone’s favorite soul-devouring, trash- eating bad-take journalist, Kip Davies.

“The video is treasonous,” he says in his condescending British accent. “Drugs, underage drinking, foul language. How is anyone supposed to respect him?”

He flashes a hyper-white smile all over BBC News. I bite so hard on the inside of my cheek I nearly draw blood.

A few vital details Kip left out:

One, those were Pez candies, not drugs. My best friend— correction: former best friend—Kofi is obsessed with them. I brought some as a gag gift.

Two, I wasn’t that drunk. I only had two shots of the vile peppermint vodka the club was serving. We were celebrating Kofi’s birthday. He’s the one who suggested we come to LA. Who kept inviting total strangers into our roped-off VIP section.

Three, I did what any other pissed-off teen would after a long week of stress and arguments and overhearing con- versations he shouldn’t have: got caught on camera sharing his most private thoughts. It’s ridiculous. No one filmed Kofi doing body shots off some hot young influencer’s abs. Just me ranting about that asshole Barnard.

I don’t regret what I said. It felt good to finally exhaust the fire raging in my chest. I’m more annoyed that it’s every- where. That people like Kip Davies won’t stop talking about it.

“Prince Jadon,” he continues, “is a truly awful representation of the Crown.” He smirks pretentiously. Like he has something to be proud of.

Congratulations, you ruined a teen’s reputation.

Still, his words echo next to the ones Papa said to me two days ago over a video call:

Is this who you are now? A rebel? A walking headline? Do you care how this makes our country look? Our family? What’s the cause of all this?

My first mistake was not answering him. The second was looking at my mom. Watching the frustration bloom across her face, as if this is completely my fault. She has no idea what I heard inside the palace. The foul things that spilled from Barnard’s mouth.

They don’t belong here.

I don’t want to tell her—or anyone—what he said. Would they believe me if I did? Now that this video is out?

Kip’s voice startles my attention back to my phone. “Are we really blaming the prince’s failed relationship with Lé—”

“Nope,” I say, swiping to another video before he can finish. I don’t want to hear my ex’s name. See his face. Relive the way our last conversation ended. Our breakup has nothing to do with why I’m officially stuck in California.

As the next clip loads, I think back to Papa’s final words:

D’accord! Since you can’t explain yourself. Since you love making a mess of your legacy. Stay in America! You’re banned from returning home until you prove you’re the kind of prince Réverie deserves.

Text copyright © 2024 by Julian Winters

Penguin Teen