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The Zanzibar Wife is a bewitching novel of clashing cultures and conflicting beliefs, of secrets and revelations, of mystery and magic, by the author of the international bestseller The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul.

Set both in Oman and on the Tanzanian island of Zanzibar, The Zanzibar Wife is the story of three different women, each at a turning point in her life . . .

Oman. The ancient land of frankincense, wind-swept deserts, craggy mountaintops and turquoise seas. A place where tales of evil spirits and eerie phenomena abound.

Into this magical nation come three remarkable women, each facing a crossroad in her life.

Rachel, a troubled American war photographer who is struggling to shed the trauma of her career for a simpler, gentler life. Now she has once again picked up her camera and is headed to Oman to cover a quite different story – for a glossy travel magazine.

Ariana Khan, a bubbly British woman struggling to keep up with the glitz of Dubai and ready to give up on love. She has rashly volunteered as Rachel's ‘fixer’, a job she's never heard of in a country she knows nothing about.

And Miza, a young woman living far from her beloved homeland of Zanzibar. As the second wife of Tariq, an Omani man, she remains a secret from his terrifying ‘other’ wife, Maryam. Until one day, when Tariq fails to come home . . .

As the three women journey together across this weird and wonderful land, they are forced to confront their darkest fears and their deepest wishes. Because here in Oman, things aren’t always what they appear to be . . .

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Extract

Prologue

Lesbos, November 2015

It was the sounds that first got her attention, the cries and screams loud enough to break through the howling wind and pummelling rain. Everyone had heard them, and now it was a race down to the sea. Who would get there first this time, she wondered as her boots flew over the wet, pebbly ground, her heart pounding from the effort. She willed her legs to run faster as the black dot in the distance became clearly recognizable as a boat. At the water’s edge she tossed aside her plastic poncho and pulled the Leica’s strap from her neck, securing it around her wrist just as the others arrived behind her. They stood like an army, cameras at the ready as the sagging rubber raft came within wading distance to shore. A young man—the first off—stumbling through the choppy waters. Click. A teenager paddling furiously through the surf. Click click. A woman climbing over the raft’s half-deflated edge, clinging desperately to a tiny sack of belongings. Click click click. Soon elbows were flying as the competition heated for the shot, that one gut-wrenching image, the gold prize that would land the front page. She dug in her heels and held her ground, the adrenalin gushing through her veins.

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Also by Deborah Rodriguez

The Little Coffee Shop Of Kabul
Return to the Little Coffee Shop of Kabul
The House on Carnaval Street

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