[Royal Zombie Corps 03] • Gas! Gas! Gas!

Following the failure to break through the German lines at Arras, the British look for new ways to turn their fearsome Tigers into a weapon that can turn the tide of the war in the trenches.

Book 3 of the Royal Zombie Corps continues the story of Alfie Marsh, and his friends, as they face the might of the Triple Alliance in the trenches of Western Europe. Along with the horror of zombies, Marsh has to content with the terrors of trench warfare and the ineptitude of some on his own side.

This story is written in British English and is approximately 23,500 words long.

Forget the glass slipper. Ditch the fairy godmother. Fuck being charming.

They’ll say this is filthy.

They’ll say this is wrong.

I say she’s *mine* , and nothing’s going to stop me from claiming my Queen.

It’s hard being King. And being a king without a Queen has made me very hard indeed. A royal ball to find my bride is the last thing I want – that is, until I lay eyes on her.

One look into those deep green eyes, and I know I’m lost. Addicted. Obsessed. One taste of those sweet lips, and one touch of my rough hands on her tempting curves, and I know I’ll tear my whole kingdom down to make her mine.

The world will try and stop this, and say this is wrong. They’ll say she’s no princess, but then, I’m no f*cking gentleman.

Her wicked stepmother wants to tear us apart, but she and the rest of the world are about to find out how foolish it is to get between me and what’s mine.

This is no fairytale, but the lady Emilia is about to find a very happy ending. And I’ll be giving her every inch of my crown jewels.

She’ll be my all. My everything. My Queen.

And I’ve got a big, thick, throbbing throne for her to sit on…