LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Do you ever answer your d—”Amir’s voice cut off abruptly as he stood in the entrance to her private en suite bathroom.

      At six foot four inches, he filled the doorway with his body. Frantically looking for something to cover herself, she saw that the bathsheet was out of reach—and the washcloth would hardly be adequate. With no other option open to her, Grace curled her knees up, hiding her nudity behind her folded legs. “What are you doing in here?”

      “I came to speak to you.” Amir’s words came out disjointed, and he made no move to turn away.

      “Now is not a good time.” She vacillated between wanting to hyperventilate and wishing the situation was something different than what it was. And no amount of inner castigation could make that desire disappear.

      Amir cleared his throat. “I see that.”

      He definitely saw something. His eyes devoured her—or at least that was what it felt like. He wasn’t really doing it…not her. She wasn’t his type. Not drop-dead gorgeous. Not sexually sophisticated. Not anything he usually found attractive.

       Dear Reader

      So many of you asked for Hawk’s story that I knew I would have to write it some time. (I like to keep my readers happy.) What I didn’t know was that the cynical owner of Hawk Investigations was going to get taken to his knees by a princess. Lina is no ordinary princess, though, as she’s been raised in the States, with minimal parental contact over the years. She doesn’t fall in line with her father’s plans… or Hawk’s, but that’s what makes this sexy, intense story interesting. I hope you felt the same way in FORBIDDEN: THE BILLIONAIRE’S VIRGIN PRINCESS.

      The poor Prince she jilts had to get his own story, don’t you think? I certainly did, and that’s how we ended up with HIRED: THE SHEIKH’S SECRETARY MISTRESS. Amir is truly anything but ‘poor’—the guy is as arrogant as they come—but that proves to be his downfall when he asks his assistant and best friend to find him a wife. He ends up running in circles, trying to keep up with a highly annoyed woman who knows how to make the best of a makeover.

      These Royal Brides know exactly how to keep their men hopping and their readers on their toes too—believe me.

      Hugs and blessings

       Lucy

      Lucy loves to hear from readers. Visit her website at www.LucyMonroe.com

      HIRED: THE SHEIKH’S SECRETARY MISTRESS

      BY

      LUCY MONROE

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For my homegirls on my blog

      (http://lucymonroeblog.blogspot.com/)—

      I love our discussions, your enthusiasm for romance

      and my books, and just having the chance to chat with

      you every day. Thank you for taking the time

      to be a part of my life. You all rock!

      PROLOGUE

      “PLEASE, YOUR HIGHNESS, let me alert the sheikh to your presence.” Agitation laced Grace’s usual even tones as the doors to Amir’s inner sanctum opened.

      But then his family tended to have that effect on people—though rarely his always efficient and coolly composed personal assistant. Five years of exposure had almost made her immune, but an unexpected visit from a family member they’d both thought in Zorha was enough to unnerve even her.

      Amir stood up behind his sleek, glass-topped desk. “I see you are still harrowing the help,” he said to the tall man who’d opened not one, but both of the double doors leading into Amir’s office.

      Grace made an offended sound at his use of the word help while his brother simply strode into Amir’s office with a somber air that belied the possibility of a simple family visit.

      “To what do I owe the honor of your arrival?” Amir asked.

      He had a feeling he already knew the answer, but admitting knowledge was as good as admitting culpability and he was not willing to do that…yet. But he should never have gotten involved with Tisa. The sex kitten had a love affair with the paparazzi that few could rival. However, at the time, Amir had needed a diversion badly and he had seen Tisa as the answer. For a while it had even worked.

      Zahir did not answer, but simply stared at Amir for several tense, silent seconds. Being the youngest of three brothers had taught Amir many things, one of which was when it was politic not to talk. Now happened to be one of those times. He would not make the mistake of breaking the silence first.

      He traded oblique look for oblique look with the man that could have been his twin but for the seven years that separated their ages.

      They shared the same dark hair worn neither too short nor too long. While Zahir’s was styled in a way that reeked businessman, Amir wore his in an artful tousle. They also shared the same square jawline, angular cheek-bones and aquiline nose. All three brothers were tall, but he topped their brother Khalil by an inch, and at six and a half feet tall, Zahir exceeded them both in height. Taking after their father, they all had whipcord-lean bodies. Amir’s muscles bulged slightly more from his time in the gym while Zahir showed the development of a man who spent time several hours a week riding. They were both dressed expensively, but while Amir favored designers like Hugo Boss, his eldest brother wore cool Armani.

      Their matching brown-eyed stares did not waver until Grace cleared her throat and their attention swung to Amir’s willowy assistant.

      Below her red hair that was pulled back into a severe bun, her perfectly formed nose was wrinkled with displeasure. Full pink lips adorned with nothing but clear balm tilted in a downward curve. Behind the narrow dark frames of her glasses, her hazel eyes shimmered with disapproval at the brothers’ stare down.

      “Is this a meeting you need me for?” she asked Amir pointedly.

      Bless her. Unquestionably loyal, she was letting his brother know that while Zahir might be in line to their father’s throne, it was Amir who called the shots here in his New York office. She was also subtly encouraging his brother to answer Amir’s initial inquiry without him having to repeat it.

      Zahir might ignore him, but he would not show bad manners by dismissing Grace’s question with his silence.

      Zahir stepped forward and dropped a tabloid on the desk. It was quickly followed by one after another, each folded open to the page of interest—if the story wasn’t on the cover, which it was with most of them. Every headline screamed some lewd innuendo about The Playboy Prince and his latest conquest.

      Amir grimaced.

      Grace made another noise of disapproval. And Amir had no way of knowing whether that disapproval was directed at him or his brother for bringing the scandal sheets into his office. Grace didn’t think much of the revolving door in his bedroom, and she’d let him know it on more than one occasion.

      Zahir looked at Grace. “You have something you wish to say, Miss Brown?”

      Grace might be shy in most circumstances outside her role as his personal assistant, but here, she was in her element. No doubt, he was her employer. However, there was also no question that she reigned supreme in his office. At least in her own mind. They’d had a few discussions about that fact as well over the years.

      She gave them both a look of displeasure. “I don’t know which one of you gets the wooden spoon for having the poorest taste—Amir for getting involved with a media hound or you for bringing that trash here into the office, Your Highness.” She straightened her inexpensive and incredibly ordinary suit jacket. “Regardless, I can see this is not

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