Wedding — Meg Cabot Royal

Genovia is a small country, but everyone in it believes they are personally invited to my nuptials. The fishmonger who sold my father anchovies? Invited. The nun who taught me seventh-grade geography? She sent a formal RSVP—plus nine.

Michael rubbed his temples. “Last time my dad wore a tie, it was to a tractor pull. He’ll show up in a flannel shirt and boots.” meg cabot royal wedding

I straightened my spine. “Helga. I am the Princess of Genovia. I want peonies. Fly them in from Japan. I don’t care. Also, my cat, Fat Louie, will be the ring bearer. He will wear a tiny velvet cushion on his back. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with the Minister of Culture.” Genovia is a small country, but everyone in