“Why?”

  “Because I’m sorry.” Amare held her gaze with his, and it was all Nadia could do to keep herself from falling into those eyes. “I hate to admit it. Loathe it. But the fact is I was wrong. I’ve made mistakes in my life. I’ve hurt people. The biggest mistake I ever made was letting you leave without being honest with you.”

  “We—we were honest.” Nadia kept her feet on the ground through sheer force of will. “We said we didn’t want anything emotional or complicated. Sex with no feelings.”

  “I wasn’t honest when I changed my mind. I should have told you the moment I had feelings for you. I should have told you that I was falling for you. Harder than I’ve ever fallen for a person. It would have been right, and I didn’t. I have no acceptable excuse.”

  He could have come up with plenty of them, Nadia realized. He could have pointed to tradition or to his duties as the sheikh or to the need for caution on Taavi’s behalf. But he didn’t.

  He looked into her eyes as he spoke. “However. I’ve been told that mistakes can lead to growth, and I’m hoping that mine can end in a second chance. I love you, Nadia.”

  She threw herself into his arms. The moment they made contact, her heart flooded with light and heat and rightness. She rose on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth. Again. Again. Again.

  “I love you, too.”

  Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Happy tears. Relieved tears. She’d never allowed herself to hope, and now he was here, he loved her—

  He was here.

  And Nadia had her own mistakes to rectify.

  She kissed Amare one more time, long and deep and hot, his tongue demanding entrance to her mouth, then pulled away.

  “One thing first,” she gasped, struggling to catch her breath. “One thing first. Come sit with me.”

  Nadia guided him to the couch. Nothing had ever seemed more surreal in her life. That he was here, in this apartment. That Amare was sitting on this sofa with her. He took his seat, looking every inch the sheikh even on their well-loved furniture. She put her laptop on his lap.

  “What’s this?”

  “I have a new manuscript I’ve been working on.” Nadia flipped the top open, her file already waiting. “I wanted the best of both worlds. Something that speaks to the wonder of Kirisil while still feeling like a personal memoir. If you hate it, I’ll scrap the whole thing.” There. She’d said it. “Writing might not be for me, anyway. My career wasn’t killed by the TMZ post, so I can keep doing YouTube videos, and—”

  He put a hand on her jaw, leaned in, and kissed her. Deeply. His tongue flicked against her bottom lip and she opened for him, feeling her whole body relax into the confidence she’d been missing. Oh, she had missed this desperately. Hopelessly. Nadia groaned into his mouth, and Amare broke the kiss with a grin. He shut her laptop. “I don’t want to read it. No—that’s not right. If you want me to read your work, I will, but whatever you want to do, I’ll support it.”

  “Amare—”

  “The book should be what you want it to be, not what I demand it to be.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I trust you. I more than trust you. I love you, with all of my heart, with everything I am.” He took her hands in his. “Come home and be my wife.”

  Come home. All along, Nadia had been searching for the feeling that suffused her now. That she was in the right place, with the right person. That she’d finally found what she was looking for.

  “Mom!” she called. Her mom had been waiting in the kitchen and came out now, beaming at the both of them. Nadia stood up and pulled Amare to his feet beside her. “Amare, I’d love for you to meet my mom, Sofia. And Mom? I want you to meet Amare. The man I’m going to marry.”

  15

  Amare had only seen his wife so happy on two other days in her life. Their wedding day, and the day she adopted Taavi to officially be her son.

  Today, at her book launch party, Nadia was incandescent with joy. She couldn’t stop smiling. Her dark eyes shone with happy tears. She was so beautiful it made his heart ache. Yes, the dress she’d chosen for the occasion was stunning, but it was her deep satisfaction that he loved to watch more than anything else.

  Amare stood with his hand on the small of her back. They’d chosen to host the launch party in Nadia’s favorite palace ballroom—a space with arches open to the garden outside. A fountain bubbled at one end, and they’d invited local booksellers to collaborate on the decorations. One end of the room had been set up like a bookstore, complete with displays of Nadia’s book.

  He wanted to buy a hundred copies and stock a bookshelf entirely with that. Amare had wanted to have copies available for all the palace guests, but Nadia had laughed and told him that it wasn’t the way. People who wanted more of Kirisil would find her book on their own—or they would find Kirisil itself. In the end, he’d settled for twenty-five copies on a shelf in their private rooms. That way, she always had one to give as a gift.

  “All the buzz is favorable,” Nadia’s editor was saying. She had been a cornerstone of the project, guiding Nadia through the intense revision process. “Reviews are going to take some time, but now that it’s available worldwide, we should see them coming in any day now.”

  “I can’t wait,” Nadia said.

  He knew how much she meant it. It had been a long year of editing and writing. Nadia had poured her soul into the book. She’d spent hours finessing every line and talking through paragraphs with Amare. Late nights. Early mornings. She’d fit in her responsibilities as the sheikh’s wife and writing and spending time as a family. She had balanced them all. Amare’s mother had been right about her—no one else could have done better at the role. Of course, they’d had to work it out together. Amare came to relish the push and pull within their relationship as they worked to balance all the things they needed to do with all the things they needed from one another.

  And he needed a lot from her. Perhaps more than he was willing to admit. Luckily, the same went for Nadia. She was hungry for him in a way that inspired his own hunger. Tonight, when everyone else had gone home—

  “People are waiting to meet you,” prompted the editor. She winked at Amare. “I’ll only steal her away for a few minutes.”

  It was well-known throughout the emirate that the sheikh did not prefer to be away from his wife. That was fine with Amare.

  Nadia rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be back.”

  “I love you,” he told her.

  She blew him a kiss.

  Camil and Faidh stepped to his side, drinks in hand, as Amare watched Nadia circulate through the room with her editor. He could not have imagined a better hostess. She was warm. Inviting. Charming. In other words, she was everything. Amare had never been so proud. He had never wanted her more.

  “Wipe that look off your face, Amare. No married man should look so happy,” Faidh scolded, laughing.

  Amare’s mother stepped in at that moment and smacked Faidh on the shoulder. “You hush.” She smiled at Amare. “You’ve made a good match, my son. Nadia is a strong partner. Now, Taavi just needs a younger sibling, and things would be complete.”

  He couldn’t have stopped smiling if he tried.

  His mother narrowed her eyes, glancing at Faidh and Camil. “Has he been like this the whole event? It’s a lot of grinning for a sheikh.”

  “Something’s going on,” Camil said. “I can sense it.”

  Amare found Nadia at his side again, shaking her head. She’d obviously overheard the conversation. “Stop teasing your poor mother already and tell her.”

  They’d told Nadia’s mother two days ago, and Samira first of anyone—she’d seemed to know precisely when Nadia did. Nadia swore she hadn’t told, and Amare believed her. That was just the way things were with close friends.

  “Tell me what?” his mother demanded. Hope lit up her eyes. The anticipation of this moment had been so sweet that Amare almost wanted to let it take longer. To keep the news to themselves.

  Amare looked into Nadia’s eyes. “You or me?”

  “You,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

  “We’re expecting,” he announced. Nadia wasn’t the only one who looked as happy as she ever had. He was as happy as he’d ever been. This moment—giving this news to his family and his friends—this was what mattered. Not mistakes. Not perfection. This joy.

  His mother shrieked and threw her arms around Amare’s neck. Nadia’s laughter rang sweetly in his ear, and then his mother embraced her, too. “A girl for you,” his mother said, tears in her eyes. She kissed Nadia’s cheek. “Wonderful. Wonderful. Does Samira know?”

  Samira was across the room, mingling with some of the other guests. Amare caught her eye and nodded. “Yes,” he told his mother. “She guessed first.”

  “I don’t know if it’s a girl.” Nadia laughed, grinning at Amare over her mother-in-law’s shoulder. “We can’t know for sure yet, but I have a feeling.”

  Amare gathered them both into his arms for another brief embrace, and then his mother stepped back, wiping her eyes. He pulled Nadia close. Her excitement seemed to fill the air between them, living in the chatter of all her guests and the happy swell of conversation among his friends and family. “I hope you’re right,” he murmured in her ear. “A little sister for Taavi would be perfect. Just as perfect as you.”

  End of Sheikh’s False Fiancée

  Sheikhs Pact Book One

  Sheikh’s False Fiancée, 7 October 2021

  Sheikh’s Pregnant American, 14 October 2021

  Sheikh’s Pretend Engagement, 21 October 2021

  PS: Do you love passionate Sheikhs? Then keep reading for exclusive extracts from Sheikh’s Pregnant American, Sheikh’s Surprise Son and The Sheikh’s Fake Engagement.

  Thank you!

  Thank you so much for purchasing my book. It’s hard for me to put into words how much I appreciate my readers. If you enjoyed this book, please remember to leave a review. Reviews are crucial for an author’s success and I would greatly appreciate it if you took the time to review the book. I love hearing from you!

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  About Leslie

  Leslie North is the USA Today Bestselling pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women's contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.

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  BLURB

  Love always finds a way…

  Sheikh Camil Abadi believes love is just a silly fantasy. Lust, however, is another matter. So when the irrepressible American Piper McCarthy careens into a meeting with him, asking to write about his great-grandparents, he’s much more interested in her than some ancient local legend concerning the infamous Lovers of Al-Fahr…

  After they share an unforgettable night of pleasure, Camil assumed that was the end of it. But two months later, Piper is back… And Camil is shocked to discover that she’s pregnant with his child. But as they spend more time together, the Sheikh who doesn’t believe in love suddenly finds himself falling head over heels for the beautiful writer.

  Piper is excited to research the famous Lovers of Al-Fahr. It’s the perfect story for her romantic soul. She only wishes that kind of love would find her. Camil may be the most gorgeous, sexiest man she’s ever met, but love? That’s not in the cards—at least not for Camil. And Piper’s still not sure what she feels.

  With a baby on the way, will either of them discover the truth in their hearts, before it’s too late?

  Grab your copy of Sheikh’s Pregnant American

  Available October 14 2021

  Available for pre-order now! www.LeslieNorthBooks.com

  EXCERPT

  Chapter One

  Piper couldn’t breathe.

  This meeting. This meeting. She’d been trying to get this meeting for weeks, and then she’d almost missed the call. Prince Camil’s assistant had called as she was padding to the kitchen in her flat. The tea kettle had been whistling, the water at a boil. If it hadn’t been for her phone falling off the coffee table, she wouldn’t have known it was buzzing. She’d flipped off the stove and jogged over to answer it.

  “Prince Camil has had a cancellation in his schedule,” he’d said. “I’m willing to give you the slot if you can be here in ten minutes.”

  Here—the palace. Piper had spent thirty seconds shoving off the leggings she was wearing and throwing on a floor-length dress that was good for any occasion, with three-quarter-length sleeves and an embroidered detail at the hem that made it look polished. Another ten shoving on matching flats. And thirty seconds in front of the mirror by the front door, making sure her bun looked professionally tousled and not just-out-of-bed.

  She’d sprinted from her flat to get a taxi. The small, dingy car had not been air-conditioned, but she ignored this in favor of dabbing on lip balm and a hint of blush from the pots in her bag.

  And now—

  Now she took the wide, grand staircase at the main entrance of the palace as fast as her legs could carry her without tumbling headfirst into the stone. Her bag bounced against her hip and nearly caught on the oversized doorframe that led into a soaring foyer. The palace at the heart of the city was ornate but modern, with shining black marble floors and high ceilings that gave her the sensation of being in a museum.

  Piper stopped herself in front of a small receptionist’s desk and did her best to catch her breath. Impossible. It was overwhelming, getting this invitation. It was overwhelming, being in the palace. And she could feel that the breeze and the running had pulled tendrils of hair from her bun.

  “I have a meeting,” she said to the man behind the desk. “I have a meeting with the prince.”

  The man, dressed in a sharp suit and frowning a little, looked her over.

  In through the nose, out through the mouth. Piper straightened up and put on her best smile. It was easy because this was already a victory. She had the meeting. “I’m sorry to be so blunt and...and disheveled. Prince Camil’s assistant called and said there was a cancellation. I’m supposed to meet them in the conference room.” She couldn’t stop grinning. “I’m just so excited.”

  This brought a smile to the receptionist’s face. “I’ll show you the way.”

  “Thank you,” breathed Piper. Her heart thudded in her chest as if it was jumping for joy. Okay. Get a grip.

  The receptionist came out from behind the desk. Cool air lifted the tendrils of hair away from her neck. Piper had never been so grateful for air conditioning. Her face had to be red from the running and the taxi and the mad dash up the steps of the palace. She followed the receptionist through the wide expanse of the lobby and down a short hallway. He stopped at a set of large, ornate double doors. For all the palace’s modern touches, the doors looked original. Original—and very well-maintained.

  Those gleaming doors opened easily for the receptionist, who stood in front of one and ushered her in.

  Piper took one step inside the conference room, and—

  Oh, dear holy God.

  She’d seen pictures of Prince Camil. Of course she had. Everyone who lived in Al-Fahr had. But those pictures had lied. He wasn’t just handsome, with his dark hair and a jaw so finely cut he could have modeled for the great artists. He was, without question, the most handsome man Piper had ever seen. His deep, hazel eyes met hers from across that long table, and her cheeks burned with the contact. The distance didn’t matter. The force of his gaze was so intense he could have been inches away. His flawless dark suit made him seem even larger in the space, the fine fabric falling smoothly over a tall, hard body.

  Piper couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  Oh no—she truly couldn’t. And now she’d been staring at him a second too long—long enough for the prince’s grin to grow. She remembered herself at the last possible moment and bobbed into something between a curtsey and a bow. He was grinning now. Prince Camil, grinning at her. Piper half-expected him to laugh. To send her right back out of the room.

  “I’m Piper McCarthy, Prince Camil,” she said before he could cut the meeting short on account of her ridiculous curtsey. “Thank you so much for meeting with me today.”

  But his eyes weren’t mocking. Prince Camil gestured to a seat near his side. “Join me, would you?”