Friday, 14 December 2018

His Inherited Princess by Empi Baryeh is here | #BookRelease #RoyalRomance #AARomance #RHOSaene @EmpiBaryeh

❤️❤️❤️NEW RELEASE❤️❤️❤️


Author: Empi Baryeh
Publisher: Love Africa Press
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Royal Romance



BLURB
India Saene, Princess of Bagumi, must enter a marriage alliance to save her kingdom from an economic crisis. Tragedy strikes when her husband of a few hours is killed in an accident on the way to their honeymoon. She recovers from a coma two weeks later to discover she has been inherited by her husband's younger brother!

Sheikh Omar El Dansuri has never wanted to be king, nor does he desire a wife. However, when his older brother dies, he not only becomes the future king of Sudar, but he also inherits his brother’s bride through an age-old tradition. Falling for the headstrong India is out the question especially when evidence points to her as his brother’s killer.

Neither India nor Omar wanted this marriage, but the passion that burns between cannot be denied. When India’s secret is revealed, will either of them survive the consequences?


EXCERPT



Movement outside the glass doors caught her attention, and she stilled.
Omar.
Flanked by two bodyguards. One an older gentleman—in his forties, she guessed—and a younger one who looked to be in his thirties. Her gaze caught Omar’s, and her body’s response was immediate—heart pounding, breath snagging, body tingling with awareness. His grey caftan had intricate embroidery on the neckline and cuffs. She frowned. Hadn’t he been wearing a suit this morning? Or was that yesterday?
He’d been visiting morning and evening every day, and even without wanting to, she’d found herself looking forward to his visits. He hadn’t kissed her again, much to her relief, but his eyes always emitted heat and intent, which took her mind there, anyway, filling her with anticipation. It was worse than being kissed.
Expectation signified emotion; but that had no place in the alliance. She’d prepared for duty with Majid, not desire. Yet, each time Omar came near her, each time he looked into her eyes, she struggled to maintain her practical head on her shoulders.
He entered the room, but the bodyguards stayed outside.
“Ready to go?”
Her gaze dropped to his lips—generous, well-defined lips that looked chiselled; yet, she remembered their softness when he’d pressed them against her temple the other day. She shook her head. She may have gotten a clean bill of health, but the accident must have screwed with her mind, making her more vulnerable to his special brand of allure.
“Salma tells me you haven’t had your coronation,” she said, more to give her mind something else to focus on.
“No. I haven’t been crowned.”
“Why not?”
He paused, but before he could answer, Salma cleared her throat. “I’ll take the flowers to the head nurse now, My Lady.”
India diverted her attention to Salma and couldn’t help thinking the woman was running. “Very well, Salma.”
When her PA had left, she took in a breath and returned her gaze to Omar who stood only a couple of feet away. Funny, his brother had been taller, but she’d never had the sensation of being drowned by him. Next to Omar, however, she felt like a delicate little flower. He seemed to tower over her, large and immovable.
“Isn’t the stipulation for your coronation that you marry first? Which, according to you, we are.”
“I assure you, India, we’re married,” he said. “However, in Sudari tradition, marriage is only confirmed through consummation.”
Her eyes widened, and she nearly choked on her own saliva. It took every ounce of effort to keep her mouth from gaping. “Wh—what?”
She’d read about cultures where newlywed couples had to make love in the presence of family elders to confirm they’d slept together. She’d never imagined such a thing would still be practiced in the twenty-first century.
Clearly, she should have done a more thorough investigation about Sudar before agreeing to marry into their royal family.
Ha! As if she’d had a choice.
“Your family expects to witness your first night with your bride?”
With a casual wave of his hand, he replied. “Of course not. That would just be primitive.”
He spoke with a mild French-ness to his ‘r’. It was sexy as hell. Try as she might, she couldn’t squelch the images it pushed into her mind; images of being slowly undressed by Omar, of his hands and lips running lightly over her skin, of succumbing to his virility, allowing him to do the things his one kiss had put in her head.
The flames burning her face cascaded over the rest of her body. She fought to calm her erratic heartbeat. “How would they know we’ve consummated?”
 “Nothing you’ll be uncomfortable with,” he replied. “It would suffice that you and I spend the night in the same bedroom.”
“Even if we don’t, erm…consummate?”
Had someone switched off the AC?
A beat passed.
His right brow hooked up. “Are you against…consummation?”
Was that a smile? Did he think this was funny? Time to shake off the deer in headlights sensation and take charge of this situation.
She swallowed. “Of course not.”
“I take it to mean you’re not a virgin. Good,” he said.
She raised her brows.
“When you’ve had me, I want you to know the difference.” His eyes gleamed. “Tell me, Princess India, have you had an orgasm before?”
Her eyes widened, but she stopped short of gasping at his audacity. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to you.”
“I’m your husband. That makes your pleasure of paramount importance to me.”
“Since I didn’t agree to or participate in a wedding with you, I’d say you’re getting way ahead of yourself, Omar.”
He leaned forward, and she began to tingle all over. Though he hadn’t touched her, she could feel his heat radiating into her. She stopped breathing for a couple of seconds. Did he mean to kiss her? Exert some dominance over her? Why didn’t the idea fill her with righteous indignation?
“Aren’t you even a little curious about the notes I can make you sing with just my tongue?”
A smile of pure male satisfaction came to his lips at her sharp intake of breath. God, she was in trouble.
Determined to have the last laugh, however, she squared her shoulders. “Not in the least.”
“Given the way the soft skin at the base of your lovely neck is pumping, ya jameel, I call bull.” He pulled back, abandoning the seductive smile. “Besides, need I remind you why your country needs this alliance?”

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Other books in the series (also out now!):


GIVEAWAY
Love Africa Press is giving away $25 /£20 Amazon or Kobo gift card or N10,000 Okadabooks Credit. 

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