The Call of Arabic Desire
Read a sample down below
Just a few days…
Kimberly needed a break from reality, a few days away from work, away from expectations, away from herself. Jahid offered her exactly that.
A man of power and mystery, his voice dripped with promise and his stare a burn on her skin, he lured her into a world unlike anything she’d known. The deal was simple: no strings, no expectations, just them in a city far from home.
But in the heat of Jeddah, stolen glances became moments she would never forget. Lust twisted into something fierce, consuming, a connection that clawed deeper than either of them had intended. Every touch pulled her further in, every whisper tied her closer to him.
It was only supposed to be an escape.
Now, she’s in too deep, and someone is watching their every move. Because in Jeddah, the rules are different. The risks are higher. And someone, somewhere, is keeping track of every move they make.
Book one of The Kimberly Series
As a Hybrid Emotion Storyteller, every book I write has its own music
album. For this story, that album is Give In, streaming on all major
platforms. Read it. Hear it. Feel it.
Read before you start:
The Stories Behind The Music
Read a sample
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking…”
The calm, professional voice filtered through the cabin as Kimberly slowly opened her eyes and straightened her seat.
“We have begun our descent into Jeddah. We’re currently at 10,000 feet and expect to land in approximately 25 minutes…”
Her heart thudded against her chest as the captain’s words washed over her. She looked out the window, sunlight bathed the clouds below in a golden haze.
Clear skies. 28 degrees. I’m here. Oh my god… I’m actually here.
Her stomach fluttered with nerves as the plane touched down on Saudi soil. By the time she made it through immigration and arrived at baggage claim, the tension in her body had built up so much it almost made her nauseous. Her foot tapped nervously against the polished floor as she scanned the conveyor belt.
Then she saw it, her suitcase. That deep blue one with the red tag. She reached for it with a sigh of relief and immediately made a beeline for the nearest restroom. It had been a long fourteen-hour flight and even though she’d tried to stay fresh, first impressions mattered.
She stepped inside and caught her reflection in the mirror.
A deep red blazer, her favorite, sharp against a black scoop-neck top and fitted dark denim jeans. Her black flats were simple but elegant, perfect for both travel and comfort. Her hair had been in a bun for the flight, but now she tugged the elastic free, running her fingers through the waves until they fell around her shoulders in soft layers. It wasn’t perfect, but it looked natural and effortless, just enough.
Other women entered the restroom as she reapplied a sheer coat of gloss and spritzed a hint of her favorite Chanel perfume on her neck and wrists. She gave them a polite nod, then stared at her own reflection one last time.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself, straightening her blazer and inhaling deeply. Let’s do this.
But as she walked out, doubt crept in.
What if he doesn’t recognize me? What if he’s not here? I mean, I texted him that I landed… but he hasn’t replied yet. What if something went wrong?
She followed the crowd toward the arrival hall, where the sliding doors opened with a soft whoosh, and that’s when her phone buzzed in her hand.
“I’m here, waiting for you!”
A wave of relief and excitement surged through her. She looked up and stepped into the arrival area, her eyes scanning the crowd, faces lighting up as loved ones reunited, smiles, laughter, tears, it was beautiful to watch, but she was still searching for his face.
And then,
“Miss Kimberly.”
Her breath caught.
That voice. She had heard it so many times over the phone, soft and commanding, playful and smooth, but hearing it now, in person, sent a thrill through her entire body.
She turned toward the sound, and everything else fell away. The airport noise, the people, even the hum of the air conditioning, gone.
There he stood.
Tall. Confident. Ridiculously handsome. He wore a crisp white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up casually to his elbows, paired with dark jeans and suede boots that matched his understated style. But it was the way he looked at her, those warm, rich russet brown eyes locking with hers, that made the world slow to a crawl.
He placed a hand gently over his heart and said,
“Welcome, Miss Kimberly. How was your flight?”
She had read about this gesture, how it meant respect, sincerity. And with him, it felt more intimate than any touch. The way he said her name, the softness in his voice, the way he looked at her like he had been waiting a lifetime, it was everything.
Say something. Don’t just stand here like a mute, she scolded herself.
“Hi Jahid,” she managed, a small smile curving her lips. “It was long, but good.”
“I’m glad to hear that. May I take your suitcase?” he asked, already reaching for the handle.
“Yes, please. Thank you,” she replied as he took it with ease, and together they began walking toward the exit.
“Did you eat on the plane?” he asked, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze lingered on her. Not in a rude way, more like he was taking her in piece by piece, memorizing her.
“I did,” she answered, trying not to blush. “But… to be honest, I could really use some breakfast.”
That smile. God help her, that smile could undo her in seconds.
“Good,” he said. “Me too. Let’s head to my place. I’ve got everything ready for us.”
She glanced up at the rising sun as they stepped into the morning air. It was only 8 a.m. in Jeddah, and yet the day already felt like the beginning of something bigger, something life-changing.