Free Knight (Political Royalty Book 1) by Evelyn Adams

soprano that stayed with him over the years. That and the smell of the Starburst she’d kept in her purse to use to bribe him and his brother. His sister didn’t need the promise of candy to behave.
    “I can’t tell you how pleased I am you’ve decided to run,” said the pastor, holding onto Shep’s hand for a second too long. “It has got to be a challenging time for you, and the difficulties and mudslinging of a national campaign have got to be hard for a godly man to endure. You promise you’ll let me know if you find yourself in need of counsel.”
    “I will, Pastor. Thank you.” Apparently the reverend fancied himself a kind of Billy Graham. It was almost funny considering how hard the church had fought him on his refusal to support the transgender bathroom bill. In the middle of last term, Shep sat in church, listening to the old goat go on about the pride of man and the evils of worldliness as it related to who was permitted to use which stall. Apparently he took that redemption thing seriously. All seemed forgiven. Either that or he wanted to make sure if Shep won he had a direct line to the White House.
    He held the door open for Sandra and the children, smiling at his daughters as they scrambled into the backseat. They were pretty as a picture, but so much more. His girls were fierce and determined and he had no doubt they’d be able to do whatever they set their minds to in years to come. Sandra’s obsession with appearances had the unexpected benefit of making her a very good mother. Clothes might matter too much where the girls were concerned, but his wife also made sure they had piano lessons and help with their homework when they needed it and only a limited access to the television. Under Sandra’s wings, they were growing up to be exceptional people and that alone was more than enough reason to cut her some slack.
    He drove the family to the Harbor Inn. Sandra would prefer they take a town car instead of Shep driving, but that smacked of privilege—which was the one thing, considering his family, that his campaign couldn’t afford. So he drove and she kept her mouth shut for the most part. When they got to the restaurant, he parked and helped her from the car, both of them slipping back into the role of perfect family like they were donning winter coats.
    He loved the fried oysters at the Inn. It’s the reason he insisted they go there, and the kids loved the fried shrimp. Not willing to go anywhere near something that came out of a deep fryer, Sandra contented herself with moving the food around her plate so it looked like she ate without risking a millimeter of fat on her already freakishly thin hips.
    There were so many people who wanted to shake his hand, he’d started to suspect from the time they were seated that he wouldn’t be able to eat and the situation played out exactly the way he predicted. His oysters got cold as he took selfies with patrons and asked them for their votes. By the time there was a lull in the crowd, his dinner was cold and beyond saving, but he had a hard time getting angry at people who wanted him to win. There’d be plenty of naysayers as the campaign went on. He couldn’t help but enjoy a brief moment when it felt like everyone was pulling for him, even if he was still hungry when he paid the bill.
    He shook hands on the way out, with Sandra and his children walking beside him. While they were in public, she was the perfect politician’s wife, nodding demurely and pretending to hang on his every word. As soon as they were out of camera sight, however, her demeanor changed and she put up a wall, riding the rest of the way home without saying a word. When he pulled the car into the carriage house at the back of their house, she got out without waiting for him to come around to open her door.
    “I’ll be on the treadmill,” she called over her shoulder, the incrimination clear in her voice. She’d make him pay at least until Wednesday for taking her to a