Debbi Rawlins - His Royal Prize

“You want me to marry you?” Just saying the words sent a shiver down Olivia’s spine, her thoughts flying in a hopeless direction. “Why? Do you love me?”

“I have a great fondness for you.”

“Why?”

“Your violet eyes. They intrigue me. And you will bear many brave, strong-willed children.”

She blinked. “I thought you didn’t want any. In fact, last night you said—”

“I am not a patient man, Olivia.”

It wasn’t her imagination that he moved closer, or that his eyes had darkened. “Is that supposed to win me over?”

“Perhaps this will.” He cupped her nape, drawing her closer, and covered her mouth with his.

Dear Reader,

Heartwarming, emotional, compelling…these are all words that describe Harlequin American Romance. Check out this month’s stellar selection of love stories, which are sure to delight you.

First, Debbi Rawlins delivers the exciting conclusion of Harlequin American Romance’s continuity series, TEXAS SHEIKHS. In His Royal Prize, sparks fly immediately between dashing sheikh Sharif and Desert Rose ranch hand Olivia Smith. However, Sharif never expected their romantic tryst to be plastered all over the tabloids—or that the only way to salvage their reputations would be to make Olivia his royal bride.

Bestselling author Muriel Jensen pens another spectacular story in her WHO’S THE DADDY? miniseries with Daddy To Be Determined, in which a single gal’s ticking biological clock leads her to convince a single dad that he’s the perfect man to father her baby. In Have Husband, Need Honeymoon, the third book in Rita Herron’s THE HARTWELL HOPE CHESTS miniseries, Alison Hartwell thought her youthful marriage to an air force pilot had been annulled, but surprise! Now a forced reunion with her “husband” has her wondering if a second honeymoon couldn’t give them a second chance at forever. And Harlequin American Romance’s promotion THE WAY WE MET…AND MARRIED continues with The Best Blind Date in Texas. Don’t miss this wonderful romance from Victoria Chancellor.

It’s a great lineup, and we hope you enjoy them all!

Wishing you happy reading,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Texas Sheikhs:

His Royal Prize

Debbi Rawlins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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In memory of Sister John Olivia. I miss you.

Debbi Rawlins currently lives with her husband and dog in Las Vegas, Nevada. A native of Hawaii, she married on Maui and has since lived in Cincinnati, Chicago, Tulsa, Houston, Detroit and Durham, North Carolina, during the past twenty years. Now that she’s had enough of the gypsy life, it’ll take a crane, a bulldozer and a forklift to get her out of her new home. Good thing she doesn’t like to gamble. Except maybe on romance.

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

580—MARRIAGE INCORPORATED

618—THE COWBOY AND THE CENTERFOLD

622—THE OUTLAW AND THE CITY SLICKER

675—LOVE, MARRIAGE AND OTHER CALAMITIES

691—MARRY ME, BABY

730—THE BRIDE TO BE…OR NOT TO BE

741—IF WISHES WERE…HUSBANDS

780—STUD FOR HIRE?

790—OVERNIGHT FATHER

808—HIS, HERS AND THEIRS

860—LOVING A LONESOME COWBOY

881—HIS ROYAL PRIZE

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

587—HER MYSTERIOUS STRANGER

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

America was a strange and bewildering place. Sharif Asad Al Farid squinted out the parlor window at the vast expanse of the Desert Rose ranch. In the distance, he could see two of his three brothers working with the horses. Brothers he had just met, had not known existed until a week ago.

No, America was not so strange. Sharif had traveled to New York often while he studied at the university in London, and he had always enjoyed his visits. It was Texas that seemed odd to him, and the way his brothers embraced manual labor, even though they shared the same royal blood that flowed through his veins.

Did they not understand what it meant to be heir to the throne of Sorajhee? To be sons of a king?

Sharif massaged the tension knotting the back of his neck. More confusing than a desert mirage were the thoughts spinning incessantly like a whirlpool inside his head. He was not sure who he was anymore, or from where he truly came. For twenty-nine years he had been the firstborn, the only son of King Zakariyya and Queen Nadirah of Balahar. There had been no question he would ascend the throne. But now…

His glance slid to Rose, the American woman who had borne him. She looked his way, her anxious blue eyes meeting his, and she stopped pouring tea. Her lips curved slightly. Only politeness made him return the tentative smile before he turned to stare out the window again.

He was a fool not to have guessed he had been adopted. Or that he was of half-Western ancestry. All the signs were in evidence—the lighter eyes, the fairer skin. Although his eyes were a dark midnight-blue and not as pale as those of this woman who claimed to be his mother, he in no way resembled King Zak’s or Queen Nadirah’s dark, regal looks.

There was a trace of English blood in Nadirah’s lineage they had said—an explanation he had easily accepted. They were his parents. Why would he not have trusted them to speak the truth?

Bitterness taunted him, but he would not succumb. He understood the reason they had withheld the truth. The politics and public temperament of the time had prevented them from publicizing the verity of his birth—that he had secretly taken the place of their stillborn child. They had protected him, protected his rightful place on the throne.

Rightful place. His insides clenched painfully, yet still the numbness threatened to engulf him. He almost welcomed the oblivion. What was his destiny? All his life he had been so sure of himself, his future as king. No more.

His belly cramped again. Uncertainty was such a difficult pill to swallow.

“Your mother is speaking to you,” he heard King Zak say, and Sharif turned slowly toward his father. His adoptive father. The only one he had ever known.

Sharif wanted to tell him not to refer to this woman as his mother. Queen Nadirah was dead and buried for several years now. But she had been the one to sit at the edge of his bed when fever raged through his young body, or when his knees had been skinned raw from scaling the palace walls. He missed her every day.