Sunday snippet

He looked down at her grimly. “So what are you going to do about it, Ms. McInnes? Withdraw the offer from MCI Oil?”

Olivia’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She had forgotten why she was here. How could she have forgotten the deal? A couple of hours in the company of this man and she had put aside the ambition of a lifetime. The MCI deal was going to secure her position as CEO of the company when her father announced his retirement later in the year. If she failed, the board would have excellent grounds to refuse her appointment. Many of them already believed her to be too young—and, though they might not say it aloud, too female—to take over.

“I can’t do that,” she managed to say eventually. “I can’t.”

“Well, then, we have a problem.”

“Yes, we do.” Gathering her wits as much as she could manage, she said, “It’s your problem as much as mine. Your father wants the deal, and your people need it. What happens if you just say no?”

He glared at her for a few moments then sighed heavily. “I don’t know.”

“Well, then, we have a problem.”

Sheikh Khaled twisted his lips ruefully. “I already said that.”

“So now what?”

She waited in the corridor while the sheikh locked up the collection. He slipped the keys in his pocket and turned to face her. They were standing close to each other. Too close. His lips twitched. He obviously knew exactly what he did to her, with his tie pulled loose and his shirtsleeves rolled up. The top button of his shirt was undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of golden skin and dark hair, with a steady pulse throbbing at the base of his throat.

He was irresistible.

She had to resist him.

She sucked in a breath and stepped back.

The sheikh’s hands shot out and gripped her elbows. He didn’t pull her closer, but he wasn’t letting her go. She could feel his warmth through the layers of her wool suit and silk blouse.

“Now, you invite me to Scotland and I decide whether MCI Oil has anything to offer my country. Or not.”

To find out what happens next, buy The Oil Tycoon and Her Sexy Sheikh at Amazon (US), B&N, Amazon (UK).

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Sunday Snippet – Michele de Winton

And here’s a little more from The Boss and Her Billionaire – out now!

“Had she really just offended the guy who now knew her stupid secret? The guy who was a wonderful listener, gave good advice and…and what? And made her feel like more of a woman than she had in a long time.

“Welcome again, anyway,” she said.

Welcome again? What sort of lousy line was that?

Don’t make this more than it is.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Dylan said.

Breathe in, breathe out, you’re in control, you’re in charge. She recited her mantra.

“I should hope not. You promised you wouldn’t.” Michaela tried to convey authority with her tone, but it was a little hard after she’d just spilled her guts to him.

She thanked the gods again that it was dark.

“I never break a promise.”

“Good.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out, no need to go into a spin because he’s a wonderful listener, insanely hot, and apparently available.

“See you tomorrow, first thing.” Michaela threw the comment over her shoulder as she walked off with as much dignity as she could muster. She’d just have to hope he was true to his word—and that, in the future, she could keep her reactions more under control.”

Sunday snippet

From my July Indulgence, The Oil Tycoon and Her Sexy Sheikh:

“I noticed everything about you from the very first time we met. I thought you were a new secretary. Totally off limits.”

“You assumed I was a secretary. How sexist.”

“Not at all. You were in the photocopying room. What else was I supposed to think?”

“That I was doing my photocopying?”

“Hm. In general, in the embassy, the secretaries do the photocopying. Whether they are male or female.

She relented. “Very well. But I should like to point out that, even though I am not your secretary, I am still off limits.”

“Are you? This little dimple here.” He traced it with his finger. “I noticed that when you smiled at Saleema. She brought you a cup of tea. And the tiny scar in your eyebrow here, I was looking at that while you were examining the dugong. How did you get it?”

“I fell off my bike when I was five.”

“I’m sure you got straight back on it. Now we come to the kissable spot beneath your ear, just here.” The pad of his finger pressed lightly against her skin. “How far off your limits is that?” His eyes bored deep into hers, waiting for an answer.

She could still say no.

She couldn’t say no. That was the problem.