Midnight at the Oasis: His Majesty's Mistake
Palm trees, cooling breezes… A ruthless sheikh…HIS MAJESTY'S MISTAKEPrincess Emmeline must gain legitimacy for her unborn child – even if it means posing as dangerously delicious Makin Al Koury’s PA. How will the sheikh react once he learns her shameful secret?TO TEMPT A SHEIKHMarooned in a desert oasis with Prince Harres Al Shalaan, Talia can’t resist his sizzling seduction.The sheikh may have rescued her, but he’s her enemy – and falling for him would be a huge mistake!SHEIKH, CHILDREN'S DOCTOR… HUSBANDWhen disaster strikes, children’s doctor Sheikh Azzam and Dr Alex Conroy must face the desert heat and work together. Even more torturous, they must enter a marriage of convenience…
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Midnight
COLLECTION
Midnight at the Oasis
His Majesty’s Mistake
Jane Porter
To Tempt a Sheikh
Olivia Gates
Sheikh, Children’s Doctor…Husband
Meredith Webber
Table of Contents
His Majesty’s Mistake
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EPILOGUE
To Tempt a Sheikh
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Sheikh, Children’s Doctor…Husband
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
JANE PORTER grew up on a diet of romances, reading late at night under the covers so her mother wouldn’t see! She wrote her first book at age eight and spent many of her high school and college years living abroad, immersing herself in other cultures and continuing to read voraciously. Now Jane splits her time between rugged Seattle, Washington, and the beautiful beaches of Hawaii, with her sexy surfer and three very active sons. Jane loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 524, Bellevue, WA 98009, USA. Or visit her website at www.janeporter.com.
ALEJANDRO had to be here.
Had to be.
Because if he wasn’t at Mynt Lounge, South Beach’s trendiest nightclub, he wasn’t in South Beach any longer. She’d checked the other clubs first and she knew Alejandro. He only did cool. He only did chic. It was Mynt Lounge or nothing. And it had to be here because she had to see him.
Ignoring the dozens of young American women queuing outside in stiletto heels and skirts so short they barely covered their assets, Princess Emmeline d’Arcy of Brabant stepped from her cab onto the curb and tucked a long gleaming strand of hair behind her ear. She would make Alejandro listen to reason. She’d make him see her position and surely he’d change his mind once he understood what was at stake.
Her name.
Her reputation.
And even more importantly, the future and security of their child.
Her stomach rose in protest and she willed the nausea to pass. She wouldn’t get sick here, not when everything was riding on the next five minutes.
Air bottled in her lungs, shoulders squared, Princess Emmeline d’Arcy of the European commonwealth Brabant headed straight for the entrance, bypassing the line that snaked around the building and down the side street.
Alejandro would honor the promise he’d made her. He’d be a man and keep his word. He had to.
As Emmeline approached the front door, the club bouncer dropped the red velvet rope for her, giving her instant admission into the exclusive club. He didn’t know Emmeline personally. He had no idea she was a European royal. But it was clear to everyone present that she was someone important. A VIP. And Mynt Lounge was all about celebrities, models and VIPs. It had, reputedly, the tightest door policy in all of South Beach.
Inside the darkened club, giant stars and metallic balls hung from the ceiling as futuristic go-go girls danced on the bar in nonexistent costumes and white thigh-high boots. A wall of purple lights flashed behind the DJ and other lights shifted, painting the writhing crowd on the dance floor purple, white and gold, leaving corners shadowy.
The princess paused, her long black lashes dropping as she scanned the interior looking for Alejandro, praying he’d be here. Praying he hadn’t left South Beach yet for tomorrow’s polo tournament in Greenwich. His horses had already gone, but he usually followed later.
A cocktail waitress approached and Emmeline shook her head. She wasn’t here to party. She was here to make sure Alejandro did the right thing. He’d made love to her. She’d gotten pregnant. He’d vowed to take care of her. And now he’d better do it.
She wanted a ring, a wedding date and legitimacy for their unborn child.
He owed that much to her.
It had never been her plan to leave Europe, but she’d learned to love Alejandro’s Argentina. They could live outside Buenos Aires on his estancia and have babies and raise horses.
It was a different future than the one her family had planned for her. She was to have been Queen of Raguva, married to King Zale Patek, and her family would be upset. For one thing, Alejandro wasn’t a member of the aristocracy, and for another, he had a bit of a reputation, but once they were married, surely her mother and father would accept him. Alejandro was wealthy. He could provide for them. And she believed in her heart that he would provide, once he understood she had nowhere to go, no other options. European princesses didn’t become single mothers.
