Dear Reader,
First, I have to say that it was a massive thrill for me to get to work with Carol Marinelli for this duet. Iâve loved Carolâs books for years, and actually the first two Medical Romances I ever read were by Carol Marinelli and Sarah Morgan ⦠so to say that I was excited is the understatement of the year. And Carol was as lovely and amazing to work with as youâd expect her to be!
Despite my excitement, this was one of the harder books to write, and I have to wonder if itâs because Iâm in the process of reinventing myselfâagain. Iâve done this a couple times in my life, and I think of it as the kind of growth of character that makes growing pains worth the effortâeven if it makes some things momentarily harder!
My current process is probably why the idea of figuring out who you are and who you want to be is so fascinating to me, and itâs a theme Iâll probably come back to in future books. Dakan and Nira are each trying to come to grips with who they are, how they got to be that way, and figuring out who they want to beâwhile falling in love and helping each other along the path.
I hope you enjoy their story, and if you havenât picked up CarolâsâSeduced by the Sheikh Surgeonâfor Zahir and Adeleâs story, you should. Itâs really fabulousânot that Iâm biased or anything â¦
Amalie Xx
Dedicated to Mr John Bradbury, one of my junior high teachers, for his support and encouragement, and for the awesomeness of having a reading nook with a big comfy lounging pillow in the corner of his classroom.
Also really hoping he doesnât read past the dedication page ⦠the idea of it gives me a wiggins â¦
AMALIE BERLIN lives with her family and critters in Southern Ohio, and writes quirky and independent characters for Mills & Boon Medical Romance. She likes to buck expectations with unusual settings and situations, and believes humour can be used powerfully to illuminate truthâespecially when juxtaposed against intense emotions. Love is stronger and more satisfying when your partner can make you laugh through times when you donât have the luxury of tears.
CHAPTER ONE
THE HEAT PRINCE DAKAN AL RAHAL had been used to in his youth blistered the back of his neck as he prowled away from the new high-rise apartment building in the heart of his kingdomâs capital. Only a few days as ruler-in-residence since the king had flown to England to attend the impromptu wedding of his eldest son, and already Dakan couldnât remember ever having a worse mood.
It also made him aware of just how practical the traditional white robes wouldâve been to wear, not that practicality would change his mind about wearing them. He liked the clean lines of his dark suits, he just liked them better on soggy winter days in England. What he wouldnât give for a brittle autumn wind right now. For just one overcast gray afternoon, he might even be convinced to wear the sword tradition dictated for the ruler in residence.
But until either the King or Dakanâs elder brother Zahirâthe true heirâdeigned to return to Mamlakat Almas, he was stuck.
And if he was stuck, the architect Zahir had hired would damned well be stuck tooâright in the flat where she was supposed to be working.
Planning the new hospital as part of the overhaul to finally bring their medical system into the twenty-first century was the one bright spot on his calendar for the foreseeable future, made bearable all the bureaucratic nonsense he had put up with every other hour of the day so far. The hospital was the only thing he could get excited about. But the day heâd finally gotten time to come and plan with her, sheâd gone sightseeing.
Typical.
Traffic stopped at the light, and Dakan took off, as fast as he could weave through the waiting cars and trucks, counting on the three royal guards behind him to keep up. Back on the walkway, his feet ate up the decorative tile expanse separating him from the bazaar blocks away.
At least something had changed since his last time on foot in the capital. The cobblestones were gone. The highly trafficked pedestrian walkways had transitioned to decorative tiles in different shades of sandâsomething he mightâve appreciated if heâd only been seeing it in a photo. But here every time his foot touched the walk his frustration increased. Even his fingernails felt tense as he dug them into his palms.
It wasnât just having to fetch the person heâd come to meet that had him wanting to ring one of the jets to go somewhere twenty degrees cooler, it was that he was there at all.