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Date: 27th December 2023, Posted by mollie
I hope you had a very happy Christmas. For the first time in many years, I can honestly say it was peaceful. It’s summer here in New Zealand, but it rained. I loved it. It was so misty and special. I love the rain and the rainbows that follow.
Recently I’ve been contemplating the following Japanese proverb:
Joy and sorrow are life’s companions
It can’t always be summer. The sun can’t always shine. And Christmas is not always a happy time. We must count our blessings when joy shines and maintain our faith when sorrow visits.
So many of my stories are inspired by sorrow—with the promise of a happily-ever-after.
I was hoping to release Stolen By The Sheikh on Christmas Day, but I wanted to layer in a few more scenes. Like so many of my stories, Stolen by The Sheikh explores many of the issues that are important to me.
It’s a very distressing truth that a significant number of beautiful, kind souls have suffered because of the hurtful behaviour of family members who are suffering from Narcissistic Disorder Syndrome.
One definition from The Mayo Clinic is as follows:
Narcissistic personality disorder is a mental health condition in which people have an unreasonably high sense of their own importance. They need and seek too much attention and want people to admire them. People with this disorder may lack the ability to understand or care about the feelings of others.
Some people have suggested that as many as 50 per cent of the Western population may be afflicted. We certainly seem to live in an era where the golden rule I grew up with, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” has been lost on so many. But then, when we look a little deeper, it seems that the people who are doing the hurting have been wounded in their childhoods. And so the trauma cycle repeats.
Unfortunately, people with all the hallmarks of Narcissistic Disorder Syndrome are rarely clinically diagnosed and rarely seek treatment, instead mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, husbands and wives—people from all walks of life. They operate from a lens of envy and take pleasure in stealing people’s happiness and making people feel sad.
I wanted to explore this issue in Stolen By The Sheikh and show how self-love, compassion, empowerment through education, and true unconditional love can and do work miracles on the journey to healing for those who have been mistreated so unfairly.
It’s heartbreaking not to be loved by your mother and to have hateful lies spread about you by envy —as you’ll discover in Lucy’s story. But art brings healing—as does faith and the love of Sheikh Anwar na Hassir.
Thanks for being so patient as I finish this story. So many of you have written to me to tell me how much you loved the early excerpts of this story.
Passionate, wounded, and hopelessly romantic, the na Hassirs are a family worth waiting for. Anwar’s (and Lucy’s) story is one you won’t forget.
If you haven’t read the first book in the series, Claimed by the Sheikh, you’ll find links at the end of this blog
Stolen by The Sheikh l a second-chances, secret baby, billionaire sheikh romance
Releases 26 Jan 2024
Preorder this book through the links below…
To enjoy your copy from Amazon:
US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CR8LGF73
CA:https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0CR8LGF73
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CR8LGF73
AU:https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B0CR8LGF73
Universal link: https://mybook.to/StolenByTheSheikh
WRITER’S ROOMS: MOLLIE MATHEWS
Find out where author Mollie Mathews writes her bestselling books in her sunroom overlooking the sea! With paintings and crystals around her, read now to discover her inspirations, from orchids to endangered species.
Enjoy the latest blog: https://www.molliemathews.com/writers-rooms-mollie-mathews/
Dear friends,
I thought you may enjoy a little excerpt from my current WIP, Stolen By The Sheikh, due for release in time for Christmas this year.
The whole room looked magical, like a harem to love, Lucy muttered under her breath as Anwar strode into the art gallery, looking like he owned the place. Owned her, Lucy conceded to her dismay.His dark gaze fastened on her with such searing intensity it made her skin burn with self-awareness. All she wanted to do was run away, but she was left with no choice but to do his bidding.
“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble,” he purred.
Danger prickled down her spine, fracturing the reserve she had so carefully erected. “I didn’t,” she shot back, thrusting her arms over her chest.
What little protest she had initially offered when Maria had told her of Anwar’s demand for a private viewing had been quickly extinguished. They both needed the injection of cash Anwar’s purchase of Lucy’s collection had provided. Without Maria, there would have been no solo exhibition. She owed it to her. But to Anwar, she owed nothing, Lucy reminded herself. But here they were. Together. Alone. Nothing to keep them apart but memories she refused to rekindle.
“Why are you so defensive?” he challenged.
“The worst thing about being raised by a narcissist is that it makes it difficult to trust,” Lucy blurted, immediately regretting the strange confession that escaped her lips.
She had made the fatal error of confiding in him again, so she may as well finish what she had begun, she decided. If anything, hopefully, when Anwar realised that she was seriously damaged goods, he would run a mile. 7,354 miles, she corrected, mentally computing the distance from New York to his desert Kingdom.
“The worst thing is my mother believed she was an empath. She was always talking about the importance of kindness. But her actions were anything but kind. Not as far as I was concerned.”
“All words and no substance. Not unlike a few world leaders I can think of,” Anwar said. “Fakes and frauds. Dictators and despots masquerading as benevolent rulers.”
Lucy felt suddenly vividly alive in a way she hadn’t for years. He agreed with her. He understood. It shouldn’t matter, she told herself, but it did.
“Everyone thought my mother was perfect. It was all a facade.”
“At least the tyrants and bullies show their real faces,” Anwar said. “My father, for example.” His head jerked backwards sharply. “All kinds of atrocities are committed in the name of family and love. Which is why, like my brothers, I am forever turned off to marriage.”
“I heard Tariq had a change of heart,” Lucy said, noticing her stomach lurch as Anwar confirmed her worst fears. He would never marry her. He would never offer her unborn son the sanctuary of legitimacy.
There was a tense silence while Anwar lifted his gaze to Lucy’s painting, expertly spotlighted behind her. His eyes narrowed as he studied the giant falcon circling above the dunes rendered in abstract sweeps of gold ochres and rich umbers. “Tariq surrendered his freedom,” he growled.
“That’s not what I heard,” Lucy challenged.
“And what exactly did you hear?”
“Tariq fell in love.”
Anwar gritted his teeth, his jaw locking against the strain of suppressing his emotions. “He met a woman who loved that desolate, isolated piece of sand as much as he did, that’s all. Their mutual attraction was a distraction.”
“They got married,” she pressed.
“Love is a dangerous emotion.”
“I don’t want that kind of danger,” Lucy exclaimed, registering the feverish pumping of her heart.
He turned to her, his dark eyes pooling with feeling. “Love killed my brother.”
“I know. I heard about the car accident. I’m so sorry.” Of course, she knew. The whole world knew. A blaze of dramatic headlines and gruesome pictures of the crumpled wreckage that killed his beloved older brother and the Western wife he’d eloped with ensured no one missed the tragic news.
Anwar stepped towards her as though scenting the conflicting emotions lapping through her body. She shrunk back against the wall and sucked in a deep breath. “I guess we have both suffered,” she stammered. “Our families, our childhoods, our—”
“Trauma,” Anwar muttered, his gaze drifting forlornly along the neutrals and as-far-as-the-eye-can-see camel tones of the desert in Lucy’s painting. “No wonder Mother fled to London.”
His face came closer, his eyes commanding hers with relentless purpose. “Just as you fled,” he growled.
“You expelled me!”
“At least we are agreed.”
“Agreed about what?”
“That we are closed to love.”
“It’s safer that way,” Lucy affirmed.
“Safer,” he murmured. He lifted an arm and rested his palm on the wall near her ear.
Her breath constricted in a throat so tight she could barely swallow. “My therapist told me that narcissists prey upon 50% of the population,” she whispered shakily. “They know how to spot empaths. They’re like vampires, sucking every ounce of goodness.”
“They failed,” Anwar said.
“What?” she gasped as his lips approached hers with a slow deliberation that taunted the pulse of need inside her.
“To suck every ounce of goodness from you.”
In a reckless moment, she dreamed how soft, supple, and sensuous his fingers would feel upon her skin.
He bent his face to the nape of her neck and inhaled her scent. “You look and smell ravishing.”
Her body exploded in a heated flood of anticipation. Anwar was teasing her. It would be reckless to trust him. Foolish to surrender. Dangerous to taste temptation. But her mind’s arguments didn’t appeal as much as the blazing need to kiss him.
“Your kindness, compassion, empathy, I won’t lie, they’re what attracted me to you,” he whispered. “And your expertise.”
“Expertise,” she mumbled. “Of course.”
All the frustrations of the day curdled the last bastion of common sense. She had wanted to sell her paintings on her merit. Not because Anwar wanted to buy her. She had wanted to showcase her memories and love to heal the hurt he had inflicted in the past, not rip the wounds open again. Now, against all common sense, she wanted… no, she craved to know whether her strong desire to taste his kiss one last time was a wild fantasy or a test. Could she surrender to the passion if it were her expertise he wanted to possess?
“You’re glowing,” he murmured as his hand moved from the wall and curled softly around her throat, caressing the tension that held her motionless. His thumb tilted her chin as his mouth took possession of hers. His kiss was merciless, smashing through every walled inhibition with an aggressive eroticism that had all Lucy’s senses reeling into chaos.
All thought of mounting a late resistance was driven from her mind, lost in a whirl of sensation that peaked into a wildfire of need. She collapsed against him, utterly helpless. Her whole being vibrated in a wild response to his touch, ruthlessly pressing the desire that tore through her belly and drained the strength from her legs.
A little cry of need dragged from her throat when his mouth abruptly withdrew from her lips. His kiss was addictive, and she didn’t want it to end. But now, the feast of sensation was taken from her. His harsh breathing fanned her ear with a tingling heat that whispered his triumph.
“You cannot deny what we have.”
The softly spoken words dropped into the sandstorm of her mind and formed ripples of sanity that lapped at the edges of her senses, forcing an acknowledgement of reality. No matter that this man was filling needs and desires that had lain dormant for too long, succumbing was dangerous. And he knew it. He relished it. He inflamed it.
Taunting her with slow, seductive sensuality, his mouth trailed kisses around her temples and cheek. Her head turned instinctively to the command of his lips. The shreds of her willpower were hopelessly weak. How she drew the necessary strength, Lucy never knew. Even as she tore herself out of his embrace, the shock of withdrawal left her shaking.
He caught her quickly. His hands encircled her wrists, pinning them effortlessly between them as he dragged her back to him.
Maybe she should let go and enjoy the whirlpool of need. Maybe she should surrender to the passion that united them. Maybe then Anwar would leave her alone, she mused. After all, what harm was there in one last kiss?
EXCERPT FROM BOOK ONE: CLAIMED BY THE SHEIKH. AVAILABLE NOW
“The group of cheetahs and 20 or so giraffes that inhabit Avana definitely raise eyebrows. And a few questions. The Sheikh’s time spent in eastern and southern Africa in his early 20s can account for the abundance of exotic animals that now reside on the island—after all, what do you buy a sheik who has everything? A tower of giraffes, of course,” Matt laughed.
“How on earth did they all arrive?” Melanie arrived.
“Some came to the island by boat or plane, but many of them were given to the Sheikh as gifts, by people who either admired his cause or wanted to cultivate his favor,” explained Matt.“Tariq decided he wanted to do something to bring more kindness into the world—to show that there are people who care about animals and doing something to protect those most vulnerable. He wanted to dispel the myth that all Sheiks do is buy gold cars and spend a filthy amount of money on themselves. Tariq’s not like that.”
“So he decided to share his vision with the world and open up the island to the public?” Melanie asked, noticing with concern the way her voice trembled as she spoke. She didn’t understand why but hearing about Tariq’s magnificent kindness sent crazy rivulets of joy, fast-moving electric currents of energy, race through her.
“Yes—he doesn’t usually let people into his sanctuary. You’re the first. You must be very special to him.”
Special? Tariq hadn’t given any indication that he thought she was in the least bit special, but the mere suggestion cause her heart to beat erratically.
“Conservation remains a priority for all on the island, and the wildlife has continued to flourish over the years,” Matt said, unaware of the tumultuous feelings his disclosure ignited every time she heard of Tariq’s activism.
“Avana is now home to hundreds of species of native and exotic wildlife, many of which are critically endangered. They range from small Ethiopian hedgehogs to soaring reticulated giraffes; a few predators, including a pack of hyenas, and hundreds of migratory birds that nest on the island throughout the year. The island’s captive breeding program releases a number of animals to roam free in the wild again, giving vulnerable species a chance to rebound in their natural habitat.”
Melanie thoughts drifted to their son. By wanting to prise Salim away from his ancestral environment was she hindering his ability to rebound from the accident? Was she selfishly depriving Salim of his natural habitat, his culture, his people?
Was she going to make a terrible mistake?
US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07YBN6JG7
CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07YBN6JG7
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07YBN6JG7
AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07YBN6JG7
Universal Link: https://mybook.to/ClaimedByTheSheikh
AUDIOBOOK
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US: https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B08ZB1KSM3
UK: https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Claimed-by-the-Sheikh-Audiobook/B08Z9L7D9G
AU: https://www.audible.com.au/pd/Claimed-by-the-Sheikh-Audiobook/B08ZB8H17F
Bride of Gold; Married by Christmas; Flight of Passion; Love All of Me; Sex With Strangers
Fall in love with these contemporary heroes and heroines trying to mend their hearts, overcome their fears and find true love—read the other standalone books my Mollie to discover the friends and family who tumble into a once-in-a-lifetime-happily-ever-after affair of the heart themselves. 5-star review
You may also like:
Claimed by the Sheikh How extraordinary love can change our lives
How Trauma Can Fuel Your Life Purpose
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Posted in: Mollie's Blog
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