It’s been brought to my attention that since almost all the names in Pussycat in Peril are Arabic names I should have provided a pronunciation guide. The heroine’s name, Astaria, is not Arabic, but I’ve provided a pronunciation guide nonetheless. Previous heroines with unusual names from the first two books are listed as well. I apologize for the oversight.

Astaria Ibrahim
ä stä rē ä    ē brä hēm

Kaeden Nassir
kā den   na sir

Dawood Hamadi
dä wOOd   hä mä dē

Sarai Hamadi
sä rī  hä mä dē

Ravia
rä vī ä

Abdullah
ab  doo  lä

Al Hakam
al  hä  käm

Lelia Assad

lēēl yä  ä säd

Vries St. John

(pronounced “breeze” only with a “v”)

Blurb:

Exiled from her homeland and fearing for her life, Astaria was forced into a marriage of convenience. Now the political situation in her country has worsened and she returns in an effort to save her family.

Kaeden is a Marine who specializes in hostage extraction and now he faces his most difficult mission; rescuing his wife from certain death and even more dangerously, sharing his love for her. Together they face almost insurmountable odds for love and for life.

Excerpt:

She turned to ask Kaeden if he needed to use the toilet, only to find herself suddenly wrapped in his strong embrace. Though she was surprised by the gesture, it didn’t come at all amiss. She’d spent the past couple of months frightened out of her mind and convinced she’d never make it out of Laritrea alive. Though she could barely admit it to herself she had missed him terribly. Given the fierceness of his grip, he had felt much the same. He was murmuring something against side of her neck and it took a moment for her to understand.
“I was so goddamned scared. I can’t believe I got you back. Don’t ever do this shit to me again,” he said in English. They’d been speaking Arabic since arriving at the Hamadi home.
She looked up at him with a gasp. “Well, I like that. It’s not like I got into this situation on purpose.”
“I didn’t say you did. I said don’t do it again.”
“It’s what I do, in case you’ve forgotten. It’s what you do too—”
“Astaria. Shut up. I’m going to kiss you until we both run out of air. I’m going to come up for air, then I’m going to kiss you again. Do you have a problem with that?”
Apparently he took her look of astonishment for consent because he lowered his mouth to her and suddenly she wasn’t capable of thought or even breathing. Fortunately neither was necessary at least for the moment. His lips were firm and dry against hers and when he whispered, “Let me in, baby,” her knees almost buckled.
He slid his tongue against the seam of her lips until she granted his demand then his tongue tangled with hers again and again in a delicious motion of sensuality she felt it in every cell of her body. Inhaling the rich masculine scent of his skin, Astaria could feel her breasts swell and her nipples harden in response to her arousal. As promised he did pause to catch his breath, but his mouth descended on hers once again, this time with even greater urgency. He pressed his hips against hers and she could feel his erection hard and questing through their clothes. She was a virgin, but she was no innocent she knew exactly what her body wanted. Just when she thought he would give it to her right there he raised his head. Resting his forehead against hers he whispered.
“Ya Allah I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
“Don’t do that shit again.”
“Crudities are hardly necessary,” she said pursing her lips in disapproval. When he didn’t respond she continued, “Assuming we get out of here alive I promise I will never do this shit again.”