Queen of Barrakesch is live!

Hi! How are you holding up? We’re all going through a very rough time right now with the Coronavirus pandemic sweeping across the world, but my hope is that Queen of Barrakesch can whisk you away for a few hours and provide the escape you crave.​

The novel takes place in Barrakesch, a fictional Middle Eastern country where they speak English and Arabic. Make sure you don’t miss the translations at the beginning of the book to help you understanding the meaning of the words in the dialogue. 

Tropes: fake relationship, forced into marriage

Characters: Arab hero, Black heroine

​Blurb: They had no idea how much their lives would change…forever.

Imani Karunzika is fiercely independent and refuses to be forced into a loveless marriage with the domineering man her parents want for her. When her friend Crown Prince Wasim al-Hassan of Barrakesch learns he’ll be passed over for the throne because he has no wife, she suggests a plan where they enter into a fake engagement. He can then secure his birthright, and she can get her parents off her back.

But the marriage must proceed as planned. Wasim becomes the king, she becomes the queen and is now under the rule of a man whose power and authority is unmatched. But Imani’s greatest struggle lies not within the walls of the palace, but inside herself as she fights to keep the ultimate secret—that she’s madly in love with the king.

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Excerpt

Wasim crisscrossed the lawn, mingling with the guests and stopping to tease the children. As he greeted a small group of adults playing horseshoes, his sentence trailed off when Imani exited the house and stood at the top of the steps.

For a moment, he was speechless. He’d never seen her hair like that before, parted on one side and flipped up at the ends. She wore a mustard-colored tunic and matching pants. Brownish-red lipstick complemented her bronze complexion and coated the fullness of her lips, drawing his eyes and hurtling him back in time to the taste of that same mouth and how much he’d enjoyed kissing her.

He quickly abandoned the guests and walked over to her. Smiling, she stepped down onto the grass.

“Hi.”

“You finally decided to make an appearance. How nice of you to show up…late.”

“You didn’t give me a specific time, and you should be glad I’m here considering you begged me to come.”

“Let’s not exaggerate. I invited you.”

“Because this wouldn’t be much of a party without me. You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t thank you.”

“You were about to.”

Wasim laughed. He’d miss their verbal sparring when she went back to Zamibia.

“I see you’re doing something different with your hair.” He hadn’t planned to comment on her hairstyle, but the words just came out of him.

Imani fingered the strands, suddenly more subdued. “I’m trying something different.”

“I like it.”

She glanced at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re wearing a different scent, too.”

Her eyebrows raised a little in surprise.

She had no idea the close attention he paid to everything about her—her clothes, hair, the scents she wore.

“I am wearing a different scent. Normally it’s shea butter infused with passionfruit, but I’m trying a new fragrance from a line of creams and lotions made locally by the women’s cooperative of Zamibia. This one is shea butter infused with mango.”

She was truly amazing. Imani didn’t only publicize and encourage the women’s work, she supported them by buying their products. She’d also worked out a way to invest in their businesses with money from the oil revenues once they started pouring in.

“I like it,” Wasim said. She smelled so good he wished he could carry the scent of her with him at all times.

“You’re full of compliments today.”

“You deserve every one.”

Before she could reply, Malak ran over, squealing excitedly at the sight of Imani. Dropping to her haunches, she gave him a big hug and kissed both of his cheeks. “Oh my goodness, look at you! You’re getting so big. How old are you now?”

“Four.” He held up four fingers.

Her eyes widened. “I better be careful or you’ll catch up to me soon.”

Malak’s little face brightened from laughter. “Do you want to see my chimpanzees?” he asked.

“Wait a minute, they’re your chimpanzees now?” Wasim asked.

“Yes.” The little boy giggled.

Wasim folded his arms across his chest and affected a stern expression. “You bought them?”

His nephew nodded vigorously.

“Where did you get money?”

“When I went to the hotel to work with Baba,” he replied.

“Now you know,” Imani said with a laugh as she let Malak pull her away.

Wasim kept his eyes on her regal walk. Rubbing his bearded cheek, he let his gaze swing back and forth with the movement of her hips. She could make any outfit sexy—including a loose-fitting tunic and pants that did more to hide her figure than display it.

Her legs were completely covered, yet he couldn’t help but notice how she moved with effortless sensuality. Perhaps because he knew what lay under the clothes. Outside of Barrakesch, he’d seen her toned legs in fitted skirts that showed off her curvaceous shape and plump bottom. He’d had many thoughts about getting his hands on that ass.

Imani sat down on a rug on the lawn and proceeded to play with Malak and five other kids. They fed bananas to the chimp and cuddled with the lion cub, who practiced its roar—which sounded more like a squeak.

“You made a good choice.” Yasmin had sidled up beside him.

“You think so?” Wasim shifted his gaze to look at his sister. At four months pregnant, she only had the smallest baby bump.

Yasmin nodded. “You’re the perfect match. I don’t think you could have done better. We all like her.” She sauntered over to a bench where Farouk sat and joined him.

Wasim went back to mingling with the guests but remained attuned to Imani’s every movement. His sister’s words resonated with him.

Imani was perfect. Where would he find another woman who fit so perfectly within his culture and life? An equal. A woman whose deep love for her country made her put in long hours on the oil drilling project because it would improve the country’s economy. There was no better woman to have by his side as a life partner.

But their entire relationship was fake. Made up. Not real.

But what if it wasn’t?

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