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About the author:
These erotic historical romances are the naughty little secret of a multi-published romance author. Saffron Rose is married, loves romance, and enjoys eating Turkish Delight on hot, sultry nights.
What inspired you to write your book?
I used to read old-fashioned historical “bodice-rippers” as a teenager, and these provided the inspiration for these part-fantasy, part-historical erotic adventures.
Here is a short sample from the book:
I sank onto the sofa for a moment, tired and shivery with unfulfilled desire, and watched the Prince kiss Farah and Alesha and let the others lead them and Jamila out and back to the harem.
He stopped Malik before he left and spoke to him quietly, giving him some directions before he, too, departed.
Closing the door, the Prince walked over to me.
“What did you say to Malik?” I asked, curious.
“I said that he and Hamal should return here and pleasure themselves if they wished.” He walked across to place his empty cup on the tray. “I don’t like to think of anyone leaving here unfulfilled, but I have my own desires to think of now.”
Immediately, my mouth went dry. My heart hammered too as he turned to me and held out a hand.
I rose and walked to him. “Did you enjoy your birthday gift?” I asked as he pulled me into his arms.
“I did.” He smiled. “It was unexpected and very…different.”
“You have not received pleasure yourself tonight,” I pointed out.
“Later,” he said. “There is something I want to do first.”
To my surprise, he turned and picked up a long tunic lying over a chair to one side. Returning with it, he lifted it over my head and let it fall. It must have been his, because it came almost to my feet and it was far too big. He laughed and straightened it on my shoulders. “It will have to do.”
Puzzled, I let him lead me to the door. Was he returning me to the harem? If so, why hadn’t he just let me go back with the others?
But we weren’t going to the harem. He led me along the corridor and down the stairs, walking with his usual long strides so I had to jog a little to keep up.
“Where are we going?” I whispered, clutching his hand. He seemed excited. He walked quickly, and in the moonlight that streamed through the windows his eyes were bright.
He turned, and to my shock, bent and slid an arm beneath my knees, lifting me. “We’re going stargazing,” he said, and he planted a hot kiss on my lips before exiting the building and heading out into the gardens that led across to the observatory.