Secret Triplets(47)

 

I fell to my knees. Face-to-face with Brock, our teary eyes staring into each other’s, I whispered, “Yes. Oh, of course. Yes, my love.”

 

And then we kissed while the children squealed their approval.

 

The rest of the day was the gooey aftermath. We played with the children, changed their diapers, and fed them more cereal. We kissed, rolled through the daylily-filled field, and grinned like idiots at each other.

 

And then, when the sun started to set, Brock led us back to the first cliff so we could watch the sunset.

 

The whole sky was rejoicing with us. It was a fiery, jubilant orange like the fields, the whole sky filled to the horizon with it, swooping over the black of far-off mountains, the tall, certain mounds, and the smaller, more plentiful hills. And as I gazed over at my handsome, doting husband-to-be and my adorable, gurgling children, their chocolate-rimmed mouths all smiling, their faces glowing orange with happiness, only one thought came to mind.

 

I had never been happier.

 

 

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

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Servant To The Sheikh

 

 

 

 

 

And now, as promised, are the first few chapters of my previous novel, Servant To The Sheikh. Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

 

 

 

Audrey Parker zipped a black jacket over her taut torso and slipped the hood over her long, brunette curls, protecting herself from an onslaught of San Francisco rain. It was April, which meant the rain was either continuous or flirtatious, masquerading as a heavy fog before pummeling into the Bay Area with a flurry of moisture.

 

Having lived in San Francisco since graduating from college nearly five years before, the now 27-year-old Audrey had learned her lesson one too many times, and thus she always kept a rain jacket on hand. It was in the nature of being prepared—something she had to be as a public relations representative. If she looked ragged, so did her client.

 

Standing in line at a nearby coffee shop, she scrolled through her social media feed and then did another read-through of the Wikipedia page of the stunning April Brevet, an actress she was preparing to meet around the corner.

 

The woman was tall, blond, and had a tight waist and a near-electric smile. April had starred in several sitcoms over the previous five years—many of which had been canceled halfway through their seasons. She had also been seen publicly volunteering at several soup kitchens and homeless shelters in the Bay Area and Los Angeles, making her a top-notch “philanthropist” A-lister, and someone Audrey needed to know—for work reasons, of course. Audrey had never been starstruck in her life. It was part of the reason she was so good at her job.

 

“A latte, skinny,” she said to the barista, sliding to the side to wait for the hot brew.

 

She’d long stuck to a fairly strict diet, allowing herself a single “fancy” coffee about once a week when the stress of her public relations position called for extra caffeine. In the past three months, since taking over as the PR head for Sheikh Jibril Rahal, she’d consumed a few too many lattes, if she was honest, given that drawing him away from his party-boy reputation was a difficult feat.

 

The Sheikh was the devilishly handsome CEO of Green Pastures Inc., a real-estate company worth billions that had headquarters in both San Francisco and the Sheikh’s home country of Ash-Kahlbi. Due to his origins, along with his status as one of the richest men in the world, he opted for the luxurious lifestyle, with fast cars, boats, and partying models.

 

He had thus become a mockery in countless tabloids, making his Green Pastures stocks fall. As a result, he’d hired Audrey, the hotshot PR whizz of San Francisco herself, and expected her to make miracles happen.

 

But Audrey was no miracle worker. Anxiety at how little ground she’d covered in the previous few months haunted her, along with several emails she’d received from her hunky boss throughout the past few weeks, which featured links to several tabloid articles, all of them speaking of his “luxurious lifestyle” and “Playboy mentality.”

 

“Please, take care of this,” he’d written, in no uncertain terms.

 

Sipping her latte, Audrey meandered across the Mission District toward the small yet incredibly upscale wine bar, where she planned to meet with April Brevet and implore her to go on a date or two with the Sheikh. The pure actress—with ties to things like the soup kitchen!—would boost the image of the Sheikh incredibly. Perhaps she could even convince the Sheikh to go to a soup kitchen bi-monthly, and thus bolster his image.