Sunday Smooch - Sheikh's Royal Baby Revelation by Annie West

Welcome to another LoveCats DownUnder Sunday Smooch! Today we have a smooch from Annie West.

But first, the WINNER  of last week's Sunday Smooch giveaway is JM BARTON! Congratulations. To claim your prize, please contact Clare at Clareconnelly@outlook.com

Desert captives for one night

Bound forever by their unexpected baby

When desert prince Ashraf was kidnapped alongside geologist Tori, their desperation to escape their life-threatening situation led to a moment of passionate oblivion. Rescued the next day, Ash was never able to discover Tori’s fate. He’s finally found her… But in their time apart, Tori has had his son! And now Ash will stop at nothing to claim them both!

Scene set-up
One night stranded with a stranger in fear for their lives, drove Tori and Ash together, only to be parted the next morning. Now, more than a year later, Ash has found her again and discovered she's had his child. Determined to acknowledge his son and provide for the feisty yet sometimes fragile woman who attracts him as no other, Ash, now Sheikh Ashraf, suggests a marriage of convenience and invites her to his homeland. Tori, determined her son with know both his parents, reluctantly agrees, but is determined to resist capitulating and entering a loveless marriage.

Smooch  -

Ashraf scooped her closer, his hard frame solid muscle against her wet body. Tori clung tight, one hand clutching his robe, the other slipping from his grasp to slide up the back of his neck.

She heard a muffled grunt of approval as her fingers channelled through thick hair to splay possessively over the back of his head.

Tori’s tongue danced with his, hunger cresting as she went up on her toes, trying to meld herself to him. His taste, his scent, his mouth were achingly familiar, as if it was just a few days since they’d made love.

Had they kissed like this in the desert? Surely not. Then they’d been strangers. Ashraf didn’t feel like a stranger now. Remarkable to think they’d been together for such a short time, for it seemed they knew each other at some deep level beyond words. He was the man who filled her thoughts and dreams. Who had done so since that night together. He was the one man who’d woken her dormant libido after the rigours and exhaustion of pregnancy and motherhood.

The man she needed as she’d never before needed anyone. The realisation made her freeze in his embrace.

Instantly he lifted his head, eyes glinting like black gems as they searched her face.

Tori heard the stertorous rasp of heavy breathing, felt her lungs heave and the push of his chest against her breasts as he too hauled in oxygen. Reaction juddered down her backbone and quivered across her skin. Being so close to him, touching him, undid her carefully cultivated caution. It allowed something wild inside her to take hold.

The air was smoky with desire, thick and scented with arousal. Yet the unspoken question was clear in Ashraf’s expression.

Did she want to stop?

Emotion swelled. As strong even as the desire emblazoned in her bones. Tenderness for this man who put her needs before his own.

Tori shivered at the enormity of her feelings. Yet she shied from investigating them too closely.

Ashraf straightened and pulled away. He’d misread her.

‘No!’ She fastened both hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into fine cotton, pads of muscle and beneath that, implacable bone. ‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t kiss you, or—?’

‘Don’t stop.’

Yet instead of closing the gap Ashraf surveyed her as if he felt none of her urgency. Only the flare of his nostrils betrayed he’d been affected too.

‘So there’s at least one thing about me you approve of.’

He wanted to talk? Frustration surged and suspicion.

‘Are you fishing for compliments?’

She spied a flicker of movement at the corner of his mouth and a tingle of delight teased her.

     ‘No. But I’ll take any you want to throw my way.’ His lips firmed. ‘You’re not a woman easily swept off her feet, Victoria Miranda Nilsson.’

I do hope you enjoy SHEIKH'S ROYAL BABY REVELATION! Leave a comment on this post to go in the draw to win a an autographed copy (no geographic restrictions).

In this story Tori is a geologist who'd been to the desert doing a survey for a mining company. It's a profession that's still male dominated and I enjoyed writing about a competent woman in that field. What occupation would you like to see for a romance heroine, or hero for that matter?

By the way, this is book 1 in my 'Royal Brides for Desert Brothers' miniseries. It's a standalone story, but if you'd like to find out what happens to Ashraf's brother, Karim, look out for DEMANDING HIS DESERT QUEEN. 

Come back next Sunday, when the winner of today's giveaway will be announced and another smooch will be posted!

Smooch Graphic by WebWeaver

Sunday Smooch - The Sheikh's Princess Bride

Welcome to another LoveCats DownUnder Sunday Smooch!

Today we have a smooch from  Annie West but first 

... the two winner of last week's Sunday Smooch Giveaway is Kaelee.

Can you please contact stefanie (at) stefanie-london (dot) com to receive your copy of THE TYCOON'S STOWAWAY.

And now for today's Sunday Smooch from Annie West's THE SHEIKH'S PRINCESS BRIDE.

Wanted: royal bride and mother 

For Sheikh Tariq of Al-Sharath, one miserable marriage was enough. With a kingdom to rule, he has no time—or wish—to find a bride, but his children need a mother.  

Could Princess Samira of Jazeer be the answer? Samira has sampled passion, and it left a bad taste. With the knowledge she can't have the children she's always wanted, Samira steps into Tariq's ready-made family. Her only condition? No sex! 

Samira thought royal duties and her love for Tariq's children would fill the hole in her heart, but a craving is building that only the sheikh's touch can cure…

Scene set-up

Tariq has given his new bride, Samira, a wedding gift, a workroom designed specifically to meet her needs. This unexpected and thoughtful gift from the man she's always admired, but vowed to keep at a physical distance, undercuts her caution and her resolve. (And if you want to know why she tries to keep him at a distance you'll have to read the book!)

Smooch  -

Everywhere she looked, in every drawer and corner, was something that pleased her.

Slowly she turned, taking in the careful thought and attention to detail that had gone into making this the ideal workroom.

She blinked hard as she recognised the ancient, slightly saggy lounge chair she’d used for the past four years when she wanted to curl up and sketch. Beside it was a small wooden table inlaid with mother of pearl. It held a sketch pad like the one she always used and a variety of crayons and pencils.

‘Your sister-in-law helped me with the details. She sent through photos of your workshop in Jazeera.’

‘But this is…’ the words stuck in Samira’s throat. ‘This is far, far better. It’s perfect.’ She’d never had a custom made studio. Despite her growing success she’d worked out of a large room she’d adapted in her brother’s palace. But this – it was amazing. And it had been created especially for her.

A wave of excitement crashed over her, making her blood tingle. She itched to get to work here.

Samira pivoted to find Tariq just behind her. She grabbed his hand in both of hers, enthusiasm buoying her.

‘I don’t know how to thank you.’ She shook her head, brim full of emotion. He’d done this for her. No gift had ever been so special, so very right. ‘Words don’t seem enough.’

‘Then don’t use words.’ His glinting eyes challenged her, as if he knew she felt overfull, needing an outlet for the surge of elation and wonder she felt.

Samira’s breath hitched in automatic denial, the shutters she’d so carefully built instantly coming up to guard her from this over-emotional response.

She saw the moment he read the change in her. The moment his gaze altered from challenging to disappointed.

The moment he realised she didn’t have the guts to follow through.

When he saw how scared she was.

In that instant the truth blasted her. She had all the emotions of other women. She felt pain and hope and delight, but she’d spent years bottling them up, hiding them from the world and herself. Because she was scared they’d make her weak.

She’d let Jackson Brent do that to her.

No, she corrected. She’d done it to herself.

Her nostrils flared in disgust and inadvertently she drew in the heady spice aroma of Tariq. It sent a trickle of feminine pleasure coursing through her.

She’d even learned to repress that in the last few years, hadn’t she? She hadn’t been interested in a man, much less turned on by one in four years. She hadn’t let herself.

Suddenly Samira saw herself as Tariq must – wary to the point of being pathetic.

Was she? Or was she merely cautious? Sensible to protect herself?

But there was a difference between being cautious and being a coward. Last night she’d been a coward and the knowledge was bitter on her tongue. All this time she’d told herself she was being strong. But in reality-

Samira let go of Tariq’s hand, instead planting a steadying palm on his hard chest, the other on his shoulder as she rose on tiptoe.

Light flared in those cool eyes, but he didn’t move, merely stood stock still, waiting.

She realised she’d stopped breathing and exhaled then drew in a deep breath redolent of desert spice and hot man. Tariq. His scent enticed. Could he possibly taste as good? Suddenly she had to know.

Samira slipped her hand from his shoulder up to the back of his head, pulling till his mouth was a whisper from hers.

Atavistic warning clawed through her, screaming that she was about to cross a point of no return.

For once need overrode caution. The need to trust herself, just a little. The need for a man’s touch.

Her eyes closed as she pressed her mouth to his. His lips were warm and inviting. She angled her head a little, kissing him again, enjoying his hard body against hers, the pleasure of his mouth touching hers.

Samira’s other hand snaked up to wrap around his neck, holding him tight as she worked tiny kisses along the tantalising seam of his lips. She felt the exhale of his breath through his nostrils, harder than before, and licked where before she’d kissed. He felt so good. This felt so good. If only-

Delicious pleasure hit as he opened his mouth, sucking her tongue inside, drawing her into delight. It was so sudden, so powerfully erotic, that she crumpled at the knees, clinging to his tall frame as his arms wrapped her close.

His mouth worked hers, drawing her to him, delving her depths so she had no option but to surrender that last skerrick of caution.

Samira was captivated. Her whole body came alive in a way she’d never known. Surely no kiss had been like this – a slow kindling that burned bright and satisfying, even as it demanded more and yet more?

She arched, moulding herself inch by inch to that strong body she hadn’t been able to put from her mind. Still her lips clung to his, hungrier now as his grew more urgent and a new fire ignited low in her body. Her hands tightened on him. Ripples of heat traced her skin, eddying at her breasts, her pelvis. At her back and hip where he held her so securely.

Her heart was hammering as she tore her lips away, gasping for air. Yet it wasn’t lack of oxygen that made her withdraw, but shock at how a thank you kiss had turned into something completely different. Gratitude and excitement had turned to curiosity, to pleasure and then, almost, to surrender.

She wanted nothing so much as to kiss him again, to lose herself in him.

Samira shivered, suddenly cold despite the hot pulse of blood under her skin. Fear warred with elation.

Tariq still held her, his gaze hooded, waiting, and her stomach churned.

She swallowed, trying to find her voice and not betray rising panic. ‘That was…’

His mouth tilted a little at one corner. ‘Delightful?’ he mused in a low murmur that trawled through her insides, tying her in knots.

‘Unexpected,’ she gasped.

‘A taste of things to come.’ His smile deepened, his hold tightening just a fraction.

You can grab a copy of 'The Sheikh's Princess Bride' at all the usual places including
Amazon
Barnes and Noble and
The Book Depository

Have you ever had a completely unexpected gift? One that moved you? Or have you perhaps given one to someone else? Leave a response to be in the draw to win a signed copy of 'The Sheikh's Princess Bride'.

Come back next Sunday, when the winner of today's giveaway will be announced and a smooch from Michelle Douglas will be posted!

Smooch Graphic by WebWeaver

Sunday Smooch - The Sultan's Harem Bride





 

Welcome to another LoveCats DownUnder Sunday Smooch!

Today we have a smooch from Annie West but first 

... the winner of last week's Sunday Smooch Giveaway is Tammy Yenalavitch.

Can you please contact any(at)amyandrews(dot)com to receive your copy of 'The Hero'.

And now for today's Sunday Smooch from Annie West's THE SULTAN'S HAREM BRIDE.

WANTED: Desert princess to join harem 

Sultan Asim of Jazeer has hundreds of women at his beck and call. So why does he want the only one who threatens to reveal his family’s shameful secrets?

Journalist Jacqui Fletcher jumped at the chance to write a history of the harem—not to become a sultan’s plaything! But it’s hard to remember her assignment when the sultan’s sensuous caresses spark a fire she’s never experienced before…

Asim is looking for a pliable princess for a marriage of duty. Brave, beautiful Jacqui couldn’t be more wrong for him. So why does holding her feel so right?



UK Cover

North American Cover

Scene set-up

Ex-journalist Jacqui is living in Asim's royal palace, researching a book on the lives of women who once lived in the royal harem. Distrustful of journalists given the way they've treated his family and the current scandal surrounding his sister, Asim viewed her arrival with mistrust. But circumstances are such that he's had to accept her presence. He's been careful to keep a close eye on her. The trouble is he's begun to be far to attracted to this outsider. She's argumentative, stubborn and not at all like the charming, quiet, well-bred women he's interviewing as a possible bride. Now he's found her swimming half naked in his private courtyard. For weeks they've kept a careful distance, but now he's made the mistake of hauling her out of the pool, holding her close, insisting she call him by name, and his resolve falters.

Almost-Smooch

His gaze fixed on her lips, pink and inviting.

‘Asim,’ she said finally in a throaty murmur that sounded more like invitation than capitulation and made his blood rush hot and hard.

‘That’s better.’ His voice was a low growl and he heard her gasp.

He wanted to hear her gasp like that while she lay beneath him and he took them both to Paradise.

Jacqueline Fletcher invaded his peace. Every day she visited his office to report progress. She was businesslike and brisk but those stunning slanted eyes would flare amber fire when something fascinated her. Then she’d forget her formality and her whole being would come alive with an enthusiasm Asim wanted to capture and taste.

Each day it grew harder to concentrate on her words or remember the need to be suspicious. He wanted to strip away her shapeless trousers and loose shirts and touch the pearly skin he remembered. His body tightened as he imagined her writhing in pleasure against him.   

Except he was in the process of selecting a bride. He had no time for sexual diversions. Besides, honour dictated he shouldn’t seek a mistress and a wife at the same time.

His brain said that. His body refused to listen. It told him a few hours diversion was exactly what he needed.

Her teeth snagged on her bottom lip and he lifted one hand, pressing his thumb there, feeling her swift intake of breath.

‘Don’t. You’ll draw blood.’

‘Then let me go. I don’t want this.’

Liar.

Asim was tempted to demonstrate how much she wanted precisely this. It would be easy to kiss her till she surrendered. He’d carry her to a bed and relieve them both of the pressure that had built inexorably since the night he found her naked in the harem.

‘Please, Asim.’

Whether it was the fact she pleaded, this prickly, opinionated woman, or the way she said his name, in a voice barely concealing distress, Asim felt a fist lodge in his chest. Reluctantly he opened his hands and stepped back.
 

She looked up, those feline eyes gleaming with a slumberous heat that made a mockery of her protest and his caution. Then he read the tension in her mouth. She’d paled, the tiny smattering of freckles across her creamy skin standing out like blood on parchment.

‘I’m sorry I intruded.’ She ducked her head and spun away. ‘I should have realised you might want the pool.’

The fist in his chest twisted.

‘Don’t!’

Alarmed, she stared back over her shoulder.

‘Don’t apologise.’ He breathed deep, filling the void in his lungs. ‘I don’t like it when you’re…meek.’ The words surprised him as much as her. He felt the shock of that admission reverberate through him, even as he saw it ripple across her face.

He didn’t approve of the way she argued with him, refusing to be silenced after he’d made a decision. It happened daily when she tried to wheedle access to records or palace staff or ancient pavilions that had been locked up as unsafe generations ago. Yet seeing her hesitant and downcast was like watching a bright light dim.

For long seconds their eyes locked. Long enough for him to notice that in the syrupy late afternoon light her eyes flashed with shards of old gold.

Slowly her mouth eased into a crooked smile.

‘In that case, Asim,’ she paused over his name as if savouring it, ‘I promise not to be meek with you again.’

She scooped up her towel and wrapped it around herself, hurrying towards her room. But her chin was up and her shoulders back and, despite his body's howl of protest at her departure, Asim found himself smiling.



I spent my time writing this book, immersed (mentally) in a glorious old palace full of courtyard gardens, pools, colonnaded walkways, mosaic walls and secret rooms. There was a treasury full of precious things, royal archives, enormous kitchens so the chefs could produce enticing tidbits and amazing banquets and of course, wonderful private apartments with wide, canopied beds and sunken baths.

What do you think would be the best part about living in a royal palace?

Come back next Sunday, when the winner of today's giveaway will be announced and a smooch from Louisa George will be posted.
 


Smooch Graphic by WebWeaver