The only way to enjoy this book is to approach it as slapstick. While on holiday in Morocco, Gretchen Brannon meets the handsome mysterious Philippe Sabon the Arabian/French Sheikh of Qawi. Gretchen who has led a sheltered life and is unsophisticated and innocent falls for Philippe. She goes to Qawi with him as his social secretary among other things, and gets involved in conflict with a singularly inept bunch of terrorists. These quys couldn't outsmart the average 4yr old. Gretchen, who is definitely not the sharpest knife in the drawer, gets a chance to do her gun toting Calamity Jane act. She is one stupid girl. Then there is Philippe. O boy. The name Lord of the Desert conjures up an image of a strong, powerful, interesting man. This man is about as interesting as cold porrige. No way is he believable as any kind of ruler. He put down an insurrection in his country? He wouldn't be able to organise a booze-up in a brewery. When Gretchen brings passion back into his life afer nine lonely years what does he do? He walks away and spends weeks trailing around after a now married, former girlfriend like a total prat. Another element in the story involves the hero and heroine relieving their frustration and anger with each other by beating up a hapless palace guard. This was presented as funny and seemed to be an effort to make the h/h more endearing. What delightful characters.