by Leslie North
Maybe she’d started too big. It might be far better if she took a gallery job and worked her way up rather than focusing on a curator position.
Maybe even an assistant position.
“Kadi! How did it go?”
Kadi gasped and jumped, startled, as Mila came barreling down the hall into the foyer, immediately wrapped her arms around Kadi, and pulled her into a big hug.
“Mila,” Kadi cleared her throat and awkwardly returned her new friend’s hug. “Are you talking about the interview? How did you know about that?”
“Sahaar told us. She keeps Liyah and me apprised of your interviews. She’s very proud of you!” Mila gushed.
With no idea how to respond, Kadi focused instead on the question. “I’m afraid I’m back to square one—but that’s okay. I still have some leads to follow.”
“Or you need to take a break. All you’ve done since you’ve gotten here is job hunt! This is Dubai. There is so much fun to be had! Come to the palace with me, and have some dinner with us.”
“I don’t know. My main purpose is to get a job, so I think that I really need to focus on that first before I relax and—“
“No.” Mila shook her head and planted her hands on her hips. “I’ve let you put me off for a month, but no more. You are going to take an evening to relax and have fun! Besides, there is plenty of artwork for you to admire in the palace if you’re interested. I’m told that some of the paintings are from very famous artists and that they have been in the Sharif family for generations and haven’t been shown to the public. Ever.”
Unable to help herself, Kadi smiled. “Are you bribing me?”
Though she was obviously trying to keep a straight face, a mischievous smile quirked Mila’s lips. “If that’s what it takes.”
Kadi could see that there would be no denying Mila. “All right. Just let me change.”
She headed toward the stairs before stopping suddenly. “Wait—what are you doing here?”
The smile on her friend’s face widened. “I came to have lunch with Sahaar, and I stayed to drag you back with me. Car should be picking me up in about thirty minutes.”
“I underestimated you, Mila. I thought Liyah was the devious one.”
Mila winked. “She is.”
Grab your copy of The Sheikh’s Stubborn Assistant
Available January 18th 2018
www.LeslieNorthBooks.com
BLURB
After losing her parents, American artist Elena set out on a trip around the world. Now, in the sultry heat of the Middle East, she’s having a hard time imagining returning to real life back home. But with half of her vacation still ahead of her, she and her friend are packed and ready to move onto their next destination when a chance encounter changes everything. A handsome stranger with a devilish grin catches Elena’s eye, but how could she know that an innocent favor is about to change her life forever.
Asim always relies on his intuition...with business and with women. Along with his brothers, he works hard to keep their company so profitable, but he prefers to live in the moment. With pressure mounting from his mother to settle down and marry a family friend, Asim needs an escape. He’s enchanted by the beguiling American beauty he sees at the café, and she couldn’t have come along at a better time. But when he asks her to be his fake fiancée, he never could have known she would change his life forever.
The two waste no time coming together, but when the spontaneity wears off and Elena learns of an unexpected complication, will Asim be ready to face the future?
Grab your copy of The Sheikh’s Fake Fiancée at
www.LeslieNorthBooks.com
EXCERPT
Elena sipped at the Turkish coffee, grimacing at the strange bitter flavor that, no matter how many times she ordered it in fumbling Arabic, just didn’t taste any better than the first twenty times.
She swallowed it down anyway—it’ll get easier; it’s part of the experience—and sighed happily, enjoying the warm breeze caressing her on the balcony. This was their last morning in Beirut, Lebanon, before she and her friend Aubrey gallivanted onward to Europe. After six weeks on the road, backpacking and sightseeing and gawking and giggling, she found it hard to accept the fact that their trip was halfway over.
Which meant real life loomed just around the corner.
She brought the cup to her mouth again to take a sip but thought better of it. She smiled out at the azure Mediterranean Sea, watching the bustle and clamor of the street below. Cars honked, people filled the sidewalks, and street vendors proffered strange sacks in harsh voices. Gorgeous women strutted in high fashion, oversized sunglasses complementing inky black tresses. She had to pinch herself sometimes to remind herself this was real.
Her parents would have been thrilled to know she’d made it this far. To Lebanon, of all places. The Middle East, the farthest from home she’d ever ventured. Her heart tightened in the way it always did when reflecting on accomplishments since her parents’ passing, a mixture of pride and sadness. If only they could see her. Good lord, would they be proud of her. A fresh college grad, seeing the world. Less than two months away from taking the leap into trying to make it on her own as an artist.
“Hey, girl.” Aubrey’s voice cut through Elena’s reverie. She turned to greet her friend, pushing aside the diaphanous drapes lining the balcony door to step inside.
“So, it turns out checkout is in half an hour,” Aubrey said, flopping onto the skinny twin bed. Elena set her coffee down on the small dresser by the balcony door. “Leaving here at noon was apparently a pipe dream. The sign on the reception desk made it sound like there were stern consequences for overstaying our reservation. Or maybe it was just a bad translation.”
“Shit.” Elena surveyed the explosion of clothes, the still-wet towel hanging on the back of the bathroom door.
“Yeah. We better get a move on.” Aubrey let out a long sigh. “Although we could always reserve an extra night here…”
Elena tutted. “No can do. We have a schedule to maintain.” She tapped an imaginary watch on her wrist. Who knew where they’d be if it weren’t for her rigid punctuality. If left to her own devices, Aubrey would probably still be in Jordan, lurking around the haunting caverns and monoliths of Petra.
“I know, I know.” Aubrey sighed, rolling onto her side. “But seriously, not even an extra day?”
Elena leveled her with a look. “We paid for a ferry to Cyprus tonight.”
“You’re right.” Aubrey groaned, rolling off the bed. “Time to fill up Ol’ Lumpy.”
Elena smirked at the pet name for her backpack her friend had coined during their trip. The two made excellent travel partners, which didn’t surprise her because they’d also been excellent roommates in college. They’d been random roommates their freshman year, hit it off like long-lost twins, and had been inseparable ever since. If they had shared the same major, that would have been the only thing to make college better—but Aubrey’s degree in history only matched Elena’s major in fine arts in their mutual appreciation for very old art.
Elena gathered the loose sheets of paper from the small desk near the balcony door, the sketches she’d started outlining over the course of their trip. It seemed every other turn presented her with a new sight, a new moment, a new hue to capture. She’d have enough painting material for a decade after this trip—and maybe, just maybe, it would turn into a lucrative series down the road. The only thing urging her homeward was the itchy desire to feel the acrid sting of paint thinner in the air as she started with a blank canvas.
If only there’d been a way to fit her easel, five canvases, and the entirety of her oil paint collection in this twenty-liter backpack. Like airport security would have let you through with the paint thinner.
“Elena, do you want these?” Aubrey held up a handful of postcards from the nightstand between the two twin beds. Elena squinted, recognizing them as the postcards she’d bought to write to her parents.
“Yes, I need those
!” She leaned forward to grab them, flipping one over to confirm the letter she’d begun.
Dear Mom & Pops,
Sometimes, it seems like writing these letters means I could actually send them, and maybe you’d receive them. Like any other traveling daughter experiencing the world. But I know when I get home you won’t be there. You’d think after three years I’d have gotten used to this a little bit more.
The postcard wasn’t finished, but that could be taken care of later, during their boat ride to the island. Writing letters she’d never send had been an unexpected project during the trip—somehow a therapy and a memento at the same time. They didn’t make her as sad as she might have thought. Rather, it made her feel even closer to them, especially as she embarked upon such new adventures as a freshly minted college graduate.
Grab your copy of The Sheikh’s Fake Fiancée from www.LeslieNorthBooks.com