Bestseller Samreen Ahsan offers the [Stolen] romance series as a boxed set
BestSelling Reads member Samreen Ahsan has made the first three books of the [Stolen] series of time-travelling romance novels available as a boxed set until book 4, Once Upon a [Hidden] Time is out.
About the [Stolen] series
All her life, Myra Farrow has been obsessed with medieval castles—and the kings and princes who once inhabited them. Now, wealthy videogame designer Steve Bernard wants her to model for a princess character in his new game. Myra can’t resist his offer, especially when she learns that Steve plans to film inside the mysterious Hue Castle—a cursed, barren, colorless place forbidden to visitors for centuries. But unknown to Myra, her soul is bound to Hue Castle by blood and sorcery. When she enters its doors, she awakens dark powers that will reach through time—stealing her past, torturing her present, and rewriting her future.
Edward Hue, the last of the Hue royal bloodline, has never stood in the sunshine or held a living flower. Cursed from birth to live in darkness and bring death to all he touches, he is at the mercy of his cruel, tyrannical father, who will not rest until he shatters Edward’s soul and makes his son into a diabolical copy of himself. Edward’s one hope is the mysterious woman who haunts his dreams—who will either break his curse and bring him out of the darkness, or destroy him utterly.
For Myra and Edward, past and future collide in a tale of love, obsession, betrayal, and the hope for redemption.
And now, a Tuesday Teaser from Book 4 of the series,
Once Upon a [Hidden] Time
“Who are you?” I composed myself.
The Queen of England shouldn’t be afraid of a man trying to woo her in the middle of a forest. I usually travelled alone, but for the first time, I realised I should have brought guards with me.
“An ordinary man with a poetic heart,” he answered, his eyes glittering brightly.
I tried studying him for a while again, trying harder to read his mind and dive into his soul, but dammit, my powers utterly failed. Should I be afraid of this…nothingness?
“Rise,” I ordered.
He obeyed me like a slave, but his look was controlling me, gripping me.
“A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be wandering around in the forest alone,” he commented.
I scoffed, folding my arms. He certainly didn’t know who I was, did he?
“I don’t need anyone to guard me,” I said, raising my chin high. “I can take care of myself.”
“What about the matters of the heart?” He dared to take a step closer, close enough to reach out for my hand, holding it firmly in his. “Is there anyone to guard your heart?”
I stood speechless, my hand foolishly given away, my heart slipping. “Don’t you know who I am?”
“Certainly not Soredamors,” he smirked, “nor am I Alexander.” It took me a moment to fathom that he was still talking about the same poem Cliges by Chrétien de Troyes. Part of me was Soredamors, but before I could say it aloud, he continued, “This maiden was scornful of love.” He kissed my knuckles, daring me to defy him, but I couldn’t. “For she had never heard of any man whom she would deign to love.”
For a moment, I forgot myself, and I was submerged once more in his words—the narrative, discovering sonnets and turns of phrase that flowed like musical motifs.
“Whatever might be his beauty, prowess, lordship, or birth.”
He came closer, pulling me into his embrace—almost. My mind and body were losing all their powers. I licked my lips, yearning for more of him like a thirsty Bedouin wandering in a desert.
“And yet the damsel was so charming and fair that she might fitly have learned of love,” he continued, tucking my hair behind my ear.
No one had spoken to me this way. These weren’t even his words, but the way in which he recited Troyes’ words, I felt like we were truly Alexander and Soredamors. But I didn’t want to succumb into sadness later on when Alexander departed from this world.
“If it had pleased her to lend a willing ear…” He kissed my temple, a mere touch that set my body on fire. “But she would never give a thought to love.”
He smiled again, his eyes singing so many sonnets—it made my soul dance with joy. My insides, the nippy air, the trees and the river, the sky and the sun—they all softened and bled together, warmed and muted, running like wet paint on a canvas.
By then, I was hopelessly dumbstruck, at the mercy of this creature whose words and charms I had neither means nor desire to resist. In his warm embrace, I was losing my powers of showing powers to him because I could neither read his mind nor see our future. In our case, he was a magician, giving me a heady potent to drink—he was a wizard, casting a spell on me—he was the ruler, invading my heart. I was nothing but an ordinary girl who was daring to take a risk.
He covered my eyes with his palm, which forced me to close them. He let my hand drop as I heard him stepping away, but even when his hand left my face, I didn’t dare to open my eyes to check. I wanted to know why and how his distance suddenly gave me cold shivers, but his presence gave me so much warmth.
“Now she grows pale and trembles,” he said, his voice fading, “and in spite of herself must succumb to Love.”
Samreen Ahsan invites Interested bloggers and reviewers to reach out to her via this form.
is an internationally acclaimed, multi-award-winning author. She is a traveller and a history buff by heart. However, art and literature are her passions. She loves digging out information about prophecies, divine miracles and paranormal events that are mentioned in history and holy books, that don’t sound possible in today’s modern world.
“My favourite genres for reading are literary fiction and historical fiction, especially WWII stories.”
To learn more, visit Samreen’s