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NEW BOOK ALERT: How To Love An Ogre by Zee Monodee #Interracial #Romance

The second book in the Island Girls: 3 sisters in Mauritius series is here. Escape to the tropical island with us.


Title: How To Love An Ogre

Author: Zee Monodee (@zeemonodee)

Series: Island Girls: 3 sisters in Mauritius #2

Genre: contemporary romance

Tropes: grumpy/sunshine

Release date: July 29th, 2022

ISBN: 978-1-914226-28-1


Youngest of the Hemant sister trio, Diya Hemant, has dedicated much of her life to finding Prince Charming. Of course, a girl’s got to kiss a few frogs along the way, right? Until her path crosses that of Trent Garrison, a British widower with two young sons. Surly Trent reminds her of the worst kind of ogre, and then life throws another man her way, one who embodies Mr Right for this modern-day princess. But appearances can be deceptive. Will Diya let her pride and prejudices stand in the path of true happiness?


🌼Love Africa Press:

🌼Paperback in Naira:


The new neighbours! Had to be them.

Catching her already fuming after her mother’s call, the people who’d moved in next door had chosen the worst time—and way—to get acquainted. She didn’t have the money to replace the door. Not without a loan, and who would she ask for the dough? Surely not her family, who’d see this as proof she couldn’t strike it alone.

The vandal would have to cover the cost. No way out of it.

Glass crunched under her feet as she hopped to the front door. So, finally, her thick-soled, sock-like slippers with the huge furry head of Minnie Mouse on the toes had proven more than comfortable and come in handy.

Diya picked up the ball, an original, Premiership-issue Umbro, and snorted with disdain.

Money-loaded brats for new neighbours. Just what she needed.

Goodbye privacy; hello turbulence.

With her hand on the heavy chrome handle of the door, she yanked the panel open as a tentative knock resounded from the other side of the threshold.

Her self-righteous anger died when she encountered the two little boys in the lobby.

Angelic didn’t start to describe them. Who would have the heart to berate such cute kids? The eldest, who looked like a tween, topped her by a few inches, his light-gold hair and deep grey eyes striking in a face already hinting he’d be very handsome when he grew up. The other boy was smaller—early primary, she’d say, with big, sparkling blue eyes and unruly dark hair.

He flashed her a shy smile, showing the gap where his upper front teeth should be.

“Good afternoon, miss. Sorry for breaking your door,” the elder boy said.

Diya frowned in surprise at his voice's pronounced inflection of a posh British accent. They were foreigners? She’d have pegged them for local, French-Mauritian white boys.

“You blokes live there?” she asked, nodding towards the flat opposite hers.

The tall lad grinned. “Yes, we moved in yesterday.”

“Oh.” She’d missed their arrival. Nothing ever happened when she was around.

“Thorry, mith,” the little boy said.

His lisp sounded so adorable, and Diya melted. Tenderness filled her heart, and she couldn’t suppress a smile. How could anyone stay angry at such a precious little boy?

Squatting until her eyes drew level with his, she held the ball out. “I gather this is yours.”

He nodded. “We’re really thorry.”

She grinned and ruffled his hair. “We’ll forget about it this time, okay? You better be more careful, though. What if one of you had gotten hurt?”

They nodded in reply.

“I’m Diya. And you are?”

The elder boy stepped closer and held his hand out. “I’m Matthew, and this is my little brother, Josh.”

“Pleased to meet you, lads. So, you moved in with your mum and dad?”

Matthew shrugged. “Only us and—”

“Josh, Matt!” A booming male voice resounded in the lobby. “Didn’t I tell you not to go out?”

The man’s large figure stopped behind Josh.

Still squatting in front of the children, Diya peeked up for the first glance of him.

Brown trousers covered his long legs—her interior designer’s eye for fabric would say a very expensive blend of cashmere and merino wool. Wool, in this hot weather? Seriously?

She craned her neck to take in his tall frame and broad chest. He’d rolled the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows, revealing big, powerful-looking hands and muscular forearms dusted in dark hairs. And that fabric, the brilliance and lustre of that white yarn … It had to be special Giza 87 Egyptian cotton, made for exclusive high-end brand Thomas Mason. The shirt was tucked, so she couldn’t see the trademark gusset on the side seam, but she’d bet her life on it.

A tense, corded neck lay beneath the shirt's open collar, with a slightly square chin above it. Again, those collar points didn’t lie—branded stays ensured they remained flat and pointy. Yep, definitely Thomas Mason. And definitely loaded, too.

She continued her perusal of his face, suddenly even more intrigued by this rich type who’d just settled next door.

Strong jaw and chiselled, taut, handsome features. Deep-set grey eyes, much like the elder boy’s, squinted at her beneath thick eyebrows the same hue as the neatly trimmed dark hair on his head.

Diya gaped. This hulking Adonis was her neighbour?

He has offspring to boot, whispered a little voice.

She snorted under her breath. Just her luck, again. He was taken. What is it with this weekend from Hell?


The word rolled off the Greek god’s tongue … and the British accent and disbelieving tone dripping with spite jolted her like an electric current.

This man, and the savage who’d hit her car the day before, were the same person.

The surprise zinged through her—she gasped and brought her hand up to cover her mouth.

She lost her balance and toppled onto her arse to lie flat on her back.



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