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Diana Fraser

The Sheikh's Secret Love Child (paperback)

The Sheikh's Secret Love Child (paperback)

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Paperback

A desert king, a beautiful surfer, a brief affair which puts them all in danger…

Sheikh Zeeshan ibn Mohammed Aziz, King of Ahmar, believed he’d found the woman he wanted to marry when Samantha Cross came sweeping into his life with her devastating beauty and a character to match. But she’d disappeared without trace with equal speed. When he’s informed she’s pregnant with his baby, he tracks her down and brings her home. He knows what growing up without a father did to his half-siblings, and he won’t allow that to happen to his child.

Sexy, freedom-loving Samantha had only accepted the dare to flirt with the Sheikh of Ahmar for a bit of fun. But she had no idea the ‘friend’ who’d issued the dare was involved with Russian Intelligence who planned to lure Zeeshan to his death. As soon as she discovered what was really going on, she went into hiding to protect her baby.

But she hadn’t taken into account the determination of a man scorned, and not just any man—a sheikh, a desert king, a man who’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

  • Publisher ‏ : ‎ Bay Books (October 26, 2021)
  • Language ‏ : ‎ English
  • Paperback ‏ : ‎ 176 pages
  • Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 9 ounces
  • Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 5 x 0.4 x 8 inches

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Excerpt
By the time Sunday night had come around, Samantha was packed and ready for the overnight bus to take her to a new hiding place. She took one last look around the tiny room. She’d left no trace of the six weeks she’d spent hiding out here, surrounded on three sides and top and bottom, by packed humanity. She wouldn’t miss it.
Suddenly there was a thump on the door. Samantha jumped and stepped away—three steps for each of three more thumps. They weren’t knocks—a gripped fist had been used to strike the door.
“Miss Cross? Are you there?” Samantha released a sigh of relief at the sound of her landlady’s voice.
She was becoming paranoid. She pressed her eye against the peephole and saw her landlady standing there, her dyed red hair a stark contrast to her pale, lined face. The woman’s bright blue eyes were fixed on the peephole in an unsmiling intensity, which made Samantha frown. What did she want?
Samantha glanced at her bags and kicked them behind the broken-down couch. She’d paid her rent but she wanted to avoid any discussion about why she was leaving at such a strange hour.
Samantha placed her eye to the peephole again and waited. The landlady glanced to her left, and then stared back at the door and knocked once more. It was a different kind of knock this time, almost as if it hadn’t been her who’d knocked initially. Samantha shook her head, trying to free it of the pervasive paranoia.
As it didn’t seem like she was going to leave anytime soon, Samantha cautiously opened the door, wishing there was a security lock. The woman gave her a grim smile and shrugged before stepping away.
“What?” asked Samantha. Something wasn’t right. Instinctively she took a step backwards and began to pull the door closed. But, before she could close it fully, a hand—a large, brown-skinned masculine hand—gripped the side of the door and yanked it open. She staggered away in surprise as the dark doorway, backlit by a lone flickering light, filled with the tall silhouette of a man whose face she didn’t need to see to know.
“Zeeshan,” she said, on an exhaled breath, gathering the loose folds of her coat around her stomach.
“You sound surprised,” he said. “Were you expecting someone else?”
She was, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Despite the fact that it was a shock to see him, there was also a sense of relief that it wasn’t the people she feared.
“I was expecting no one.”
He pushed the door open wide, entered the room and looked around—taking in the leaking tap, the smell of damp and trash from the bins three floors down, festering in the heat of the alleyway. Her neighbors were arguing as usual.
“And this is what you left me for? To be on your own, in such a place? Seems a strange choice.”
She followed him back inside and closed the door, not wanting the landlady to know any more about her than she’d already pieced together. A quick glance told her that her bags were close to hand in case she needed to grab them and run. There was no one else with him, for which she was thankful. No one to witness the scene, no one to coerce her into doing anything she didn’t want to do.
Zeeshan stood with his back to her, looking out at the view, if it could be called that. A cracked window in the tenement block across the alley reflected the last of the sunlight into her room. His broad shoulders were outlined in amber and there was a stillness about him which was one of the first things which had struck her. He was contained, thoughtful, considered. Trouble was, as he slowly turned to face her, all that quiet intensity was now in his dark eyes, which were fixed on her. Shivers sank into her gut and lower. His penetrating gaze still had the ability to get to her, even though he looked upon her now with dark suspicion.
“What are you doing here, Samantha?” She noted that he didn’t call her by the name he used to call her. No one else, but him, called her Sammie. It suggested an intimacy they no longer had. But she regretted its passing. There had always been something in the way he’d said her name—elongating the vowel like a sigh—which touched her.
She missed it. She missed him. But she’d never have him again and it was all her fault.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Is it not?” He took a step towards her, but she couldn’t retreat—she had nowhere to go.
She shook her head, her mouth suddenly too dry to allow her to speak.
“I think it is.”

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