BOOK SPOTLIGHT/GIVEAWAY: Taken by the Sheikh by Kris Pearson

Taken by the Sheikh

by Kris Pearson

Book Blurb

Abducted. Seduced. Purring.

Laurel de Courcey is captured by terrorists, chained up in a disgusting bunker, and videoed for a ransom demand which is shown worldwide.

Ooops - wrong hostage! Who'd expect a shy Kiwi nanny to be worth anything?

Laurel's soon tied up in Sheikh Rafiq's bed instead, because he rescues her and appoints himself her personal bodyguard. Very personal. But she has good reason to distrust men.

Imprisoned in his old royal hunting lodge deep in the desert 'for her own protection', Laurel rebels. Spectacular fireworks, dangerous escape attempts, and an impossible love affair follow.

Warning: contains one red-hot Sheikh with a wicked tongue and unlimited stamina.

From TAKEN BY THE SHEIKH by Kris Pearson

“What have you cooked for us?”

“Lamb stew with cumin and tomatoes, My Lord Rafiq. Ripe apricots to follow with your coffee.”

She gave his forehead a final close inspection and appeared as pleased as she was ever going to be.

“She has made us lamb stew, my old nurse and nanny. We can’t just fly off and disappoint her.” He grinned at Laurel’s outraged expression. “We’ll eat and then we’ll see.”

“We’ll eat and then we’ll fly.”

“Perhaps.” His eyes continued to roam around her body, stopping now at her small hands with their pearly pink nails, next on her pale throat which had so drawn him as she gulped at the orange juice after their frantic march across the swirling sand, then down to the crossover neckline of the robe where her breasts were pushed together by her arms holding the fabric tight.

She was not sport for the likes of Nazim and Fayez. He knew all too well what her fate would have been if he’d not intervened; she’d been disposable the moment the recordings were complete.

And he would have had to let them have her because so much time and planning had gone into the mission, and so many other lives were at risk because of it. The scene his mind insisted on summoning curdled his blood. She was a pretty thing—soft and young, feisty but unsophisticated. She wouldn’t have stood a chance.

“I can’t eat dinner wearing only this,” she objected, glaring down at the fabric.

Rafiq dragged his brain back from rape and murder to the tiny problem of the see-through robe.

“Yasmina has very few clothes, and she would be embarrassed for you to borrow any of them.”

“But...this isn’t decent.”

“Poor Miss Kiwi. I held you underneath me this afternoon for many minutes so I’m well-acquainted with your body. Why should you be worried after that?”

“You’re disgusting!”

“I’m realistic. There are no other ladies’ garments in the lodge. Although...”

He pushed back the chair, unfolded to his full height, and placed the hand towel on the table top.

He enjoyed her disbelieving stare as he pulled his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. He slipped the topmost button undone, then moved down to the next, and the next.

His eyes sent her a mischievous challenge as he progressed downwards. As he’d hoped, Laurel found it impossible to look away. She swallowed.

He saw the small convulsive movement, and something gave a kick deep in his gut.

So he was turning her on a little? Not as much as her compact curves in that transparent confection were affecting him!

He drew the unbuttoned shirt fronts apart and stopped, his torso still shadowed by the fabric, but now on display for her from neck to navel.

Laurel swallowed again and cleared her throat. Surely he was made of milk chocolate, smoothly molded and glossy? The lamplight shone on his hard-muscled dark-nippled chest and the warm sweep of taut flesh below. She let her eyes slide down to his narrow hips and back up again to his face.

Half a smile caressed his lips.

Damn you. You know I’m enjoying the view...

“Yes, you would be more concealed in my shirt,” he said. “It’s clean. I showered and changed before I flew out here.” He shrugged the cinnamon-colored garment off and held it to his nose.

She was disappointed to find it hid quite a lot of his body like that, but she’d gained the view of his broad shoulders and the smooth length of his muscular arms in return.

Reasonable compensation, she decided after a few electric seconds.

“I think your pretty robe may have been left here”—he punctuated the sentence with a telling pause—“by a friend.” Did one dark eyebrow twitch? A girlfriend! Suddenly Laurel couldn’t wait to rip it off. She grabbed the cinnamon shirt from him and dashed back to her room to change.

Rafiq’s gut swooped again at the sight of her soft peach of a bottom under the mauve gauze.

Two beautiful handfuls. Or should that be hands full, he wondered? What the hell did it matter, as long as they were his hands that were full?

Soon would be good.

Soon would be so good. Today’s mission had gone well, but it had been nerve wracking and physically draining. He’d worked hard with his brain and even harder with his body. The danger of being discovered had been constant. The danger to Laurel had been horrendous.

His body needed release.

He doubted Laurel would be the one to supply the release in her current mood. She didn’t know it yet but she’d be sleeping in the deep desert tonight, and he’d be the one to decide when she left the lodge.

She’d be staying, however much she might wish to leave. And that wouldn’t improve her mood one little bit.

Kris has kindly offered three (3) e-copies of Taken by the Sheikh. All you have to do is fill out the Rafflecopter form below to enter.


a Rafflecopter giveaway