When a pretend engagement ends in a very real combined bachelor/bachelorette weekend in Goa, three couples find their lives going from chaotic to disastrous…
Hatefully Yours by Alisha Kay is the quintessential enemies to lovers story with a very interesting twist.
Aditi and Manan hate each other but love their mutual best friend, Karthik. Planning his bachelor party is a trip to hell sprinkled with accidental kisses that taste of heaven. Past misunderstandings, present attraction, and a future built on hope all tangles together to make this weekend one to remember.
Sinfully Yours by Shilpa Suraj is the story of a one night stand turning into nights that they hope never end.
Sidharth is Bollywood’s biggest hit-turned-overnight-flop. His best friend Sanjana’s bachelorette in Goa is the perfect place for him to hide out and drink his sorrows away. Until he passes out in the arms of the extremely hot pixie who moonlights as a bartender in a shack in Goa. And Dani is left with an armful of drunk movie star who is as messed up as he is hot.
Deceitfully Yours by Andaleeb Wajid is the story of what happens when a fake relationship starts to feel very, very real.
Sanjana and Karthik just wanted their parents to stop talking marriage to them. So, they faked an engagement and now their parents are not talking marriage but planning a wedding instead. When their friends throw them a combined bachelor and bachelorette party, they use the opportunity to plan their breakup. Except behind all well laid plans lies the path to disaster.
Three love stories, three oddball couples, one epic weekend in Goa…
Will they find their heart’s twisted path or focus on the brain’s straight-but-boring one? Will they gamble on their happily-ever-after or choose to leave Goa as they came, single and not ready to mingle?
The minute he asked himself that, Manan could have kicked himself. Of course, she’d be here. She was Karthik’s friend, just as he was, and while Karthik was the smartest guy he knew, he was completely oblivious to the cold vibes between his two best friends. Or maybe he didn’t care. He wouldn’t see anything wrong in inviting both his friends together.
Something else struck him, and the biryani that he’d had for lunch threatened to make a second appearance.
His mother hadn’t told him anything about the girl that Karthik was supposed to marry. Just said that she was a friend of his. Was it Aditi?
Every cell in his body revolted at the idea of Karthik marrying Aditi. He told himself that it was because he didn’t want his friend to be ensnared by the evil little she-devil. It had nothing to do with the way his heart sped up at the very sight of her. Or the very inexplicable impulse that came over him occasionally to kiss her senseless.
Not that he ever gave in to such an impulse. He hated Aditi with all his heart. That’s all there was to it.
Alisha Kay writes funny, exciting and steamy stories, with spunky heroines who can rescue themselves, and hot, woke heroes who find such independence irresistible.
The first book in The Devgarh Royals series, The Maharaja’s Fake Fiancée, won the grand prize at the Amazon KDP Pen to Publish Contest 2020.
Sid froze, the glass near his lips. “You certainly have a way with words and polite conversation.”
“Really? You are critiquing me on etiquette, Beach Bum?” She responded to someone hailing her from the other end of the bar with a raised hand.
“Listen, I’ve got to go,” she told him. “Work and stuff. You have a good night, okay?”
“Dani, listen.” Sid grabbed her hand before she could rush off. “When do you finish?”
“I finish at two in the morning,” she smiled. “Not exactly an early night.”
“I’ll wait,” he smiled back, something frozen in his chest thawing at the sight of her warm, beaming face. “Could we get something to eat and maybe chat or something?”
“I don’t ‘or something’ with guys I’ve just met,” she grinned.
“I threw up on you. You threw a bucket of water on me. I think we’re past first or even third date pleasantries, don’t you agree?”
Dani threw her head back and laughed, the same loud, warm laugh he remembered. The thawing moved on to melting.
“Alright,” she said. “Stick around. We’ll grab dinner during my break and chat.” She pointed a finger at him. “No ‘or something’.”
Sid grinned. Suddenly, ‘or something’ was all he could think about.
Shilpa Suraj wears many hats – corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.
An avid reader with an overactive imagination, Shilpa has weaved stories in her head since she was a child. Her previous stints at Google, in an ad agency and as an entrepreneur provide colour to her present day stories, both fiction and non-fiction.
Short Excerpt from Deceitfully Yours by Andaleeb Wajid
Karthik stared at Sanjana as she stood at the jetty and it almost felt like the rest of the world had faded to nothing. He could see only her, as she stood there, stark against the background of the greyish water. He was still reeling from what his mother had just said about him and Sanjana but he was also trying to look at it realistically. He had been a child then. But surely, there had to be something about her, something that had drawn them together that fateful day when he saw her seated in the garden on his favourite bench.
Fate. It had to be fate, he told himself.
Andaleeb Wajid is the author of 27 published novels and she writes across different genres such as romance, YA and horror. Her horror novel It Waits was shortlisted at Mami Word to Screen 2017 and her Young Adult series, The Tamanna Trilogy has been optioned for screen by a reputed production house. Andaleeb’s novel When She Went Away was shortlisted for The Hindu Young World Prize in 2017. Andaleeb is a hybrid author who has self-published more than 10 novels in the past two years.
Trisha is mortified as a stranger flirts with her at a society party. The very fact that he singles her out, and she gives in to her pent-up desires and attraction towards the handsome stranger, lands her in a soup so deadly that it brings danger and death to her doorstep.
Coming out of a brutal undercover assignment, busting the spine of a major illegal drug cartel, Armaan is looking for some peace and quiet. Instead his path coincides with Trisha Mehra. Sparks fly. As do bullets too.
By sheer coincidence, when they meet again, they have an accident. Again!
And IB agent Major Armaan Joshi does not believe in coincidences.
Another standalone novel under Undercover series, yet connected in spirit, from the author of bestsellers ‘The Bodyguard’ and ‘Guardian Angel’…
His eyes habitually scanned the view outside the hall and did a double-take. A figure in a black dress stood at the edge of the pool. Slim calves encased in multiple, thin, silver straps of her heels invited him like no other. She stood pensively staring at the water shimmering in the pool. Curiosity had him peeling himself from his post at the corner of the hall and start toward the exit leading to the pool.
Maybe he would get lucky in all the areas today.
Without taking his eyes off her, he exited the big room. She appeared to be deep in her thoughts staring at the blue water that rippled with the slight garden breeze.
“Hope you are not thinking of diving in?”
She gasped and turned around. “Beg your pardon!” Her eyes big on her lean face.
He couldn’t help but smile at her ‘convent-educated’ reaction. The garden lights cast a shadow making her look enigmatic and royal. Tall and slim with a shoulder-length bob-cut framing her delicate face, she was almost his height in the sexy, foot-breaking heels. He was not used to women matching his height.
“I was just curious. You have been staring at the pool for quite some time. I wondered if you were having some self-destructive thoughts.” He smiled. The water in the pool was just two feet deep.
A shapely eyebrow arched sophisticatedly. “And you decided to come to my rescue?”
“No… no… please carry on.” He waved his glass in the air. “I have no intention of becoming a knight.”
“Wouldn’t that be anticlimactic since you sought me out to save me from my untimely demise?” Her eyes changed from being pensive to playful.
He suppressed a smile at the encouraging transformation. “So you do believe in heroes, in this era and age!” His own eyes glinted with an answering whimsy.
Ready with an answering retort, she opened her mouth, but her phone rang. She exhaled, threw an exasperated glance at him as if annoyed at the disruption and answered. “Yes… yes, of course, I’m coming.” She looked at him and stepped around, “If you’ll excuse me.”
He inclined his head, and she left.
Author of the bestselling romantic thrillers, Ruchi Singh is an IT professional and novelist writing under Romance and Suspense genre. She is a bilingual author and writes in both Hindi and English.
Winner of the Times Of India WriteIndia Season 1, she began her writing career writing short stories and articles, which have been published on various forums. She has been a contributing author to a number of anthologies and has published many short stories under various genres. She has also won the Indireads Story Competition, in ‘crime’ genre.
A voracious reader, she loves everything—from classics to memoirs to editorials to chick-lit, but her favourite genre is ‘romantic thriller’.
All that Sona Singh has ever wanted was a family of her own.
Abandoned as a baby, raised in an orphanage, she wants roots. All she gets is a grumpy cat.
All that Maj. Samar Deshmukh has ever wanted was redemption.
A chance to break free of the memories that still hold him prisoner. What he gets is having to babysit an accidental princess and her man-eating cat.
Sona believes that her life can’t get worse than it already is. And then, she discovers that she is the long-lost princess of Nagaur. Which would be a good thing, if not for the fact that someone is trying to kill her.
In this incomprehensible world of snooty royals and their stuffy protocol, Samar is Sona’s only link to reality. And safety.
But when she falls head over heels in lust with the surly ex-commando, she realizes that a threat to her life might be the least of her problems.
Can Sona ever find happiness with a man who refuses to love her for fear of losing her?
His Accidental Princess is an exciting, passionate and funny royal romantic suspense about love and redemption.
It was the Great Lie, and it could destroy the Vampire Nation.
In First, We Kill All the Lawyers, vampire lawyer Donovan Trait survived repeated attacks by a serial killer. Now, after violating a marital agreement with the Vampire Coalition, and several ancient Vampire Laws, Donovan, and his newly-turned vampire bride are on the run. You see, in exchange for permitting a pure-blood vampire to marry a turned human, the Traits agreed to allow vampire scientists to monitor the conception and birth of their children. When Judge Shirley Magnusen Trait turns up accidentally pregnant on her wedding day, the fury of the Coalition is unleashed. The tribunal recommends unacceptable punitive action and the Traits are forced to flee to a mysterious island of vampire nuns. The Traits are, by profession, seekers of the truth. But this time, the truth may not set them free. In fact, it could start a revolution. Will the Traits escape the clutches of the Coalition and keep their babies safe? Or will their family be…eliminated?
Because I am fascinated by the games people play to find and secure a lasting relationship, which is not always love. There’s the chase, the courtship, the falling, the surrender. That’s what I try to capture in my stories.
Do you prefer a certain type of romantic hero?
I adore smart, dashing gentlemen who aren’t afraid to live on the edge. They can be a bad boy, a billionaire, a prince, or a secret agent. That hint of danger just hooks me! However, I they have to be paired with strong, independent women who aren’t afraid to fight for what they want, even love.
Why did you write “Ye Gods! The Law is an Ass?”
Donovan Trait is a vampire lawyer. In the human world, a very respected lawyer. I wanted to give him the opportunity to shine in the vampire world. So I created a scenario where his turned vampire bride Shirley is unfairly punished for an unintentionally violating their marital agreement, as well as other outdated, outrageous, and outright discriminatory laws—she unintentionally To survive and protect their unborn child, they must not only fight back, but also rebel. In this instance, human history provides them with the path. That gave me the opportunity to draw parallels between the fight for human rights and the rights of vampires who aren’t purebloods. It also allowed me to poke at the continued need of both societies to embrace social change. Perhaps surprisingly, the vampires lag far behind the humans in terms of equality and individual freedoms. However, in the end, the message is clear: Whether human or vampire, an individual is entitled to certain rights and liberties. And no human or vampire has a right to deny them.
About Seelie Kay:
Award-winning author Seelie Kay writes about lawyers in love, sometimes with a dash of kink.
Writing under a nom de plume, the former lawyer and journalist draws her stories from more than 30 years in the legal world. Seelie’s wicked pen has resulted in nineteen works of fiction, including the new paranormal romance series Donovan Trait, as well the erotic romance Kinky Briefs series and The Feisty Lawyers romantic suspense series. She also authored The Last Christmas, The Garage Dweller, A Touchdown to Remember, The President’s Wife, The President’s Daughter, Seizing Hope, The White House Wedding, and participated in the romance anthology Pieces of Us.
When not spinning romantic tales, Seelie ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other professionals. Currently, she resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, WI, where she enjoys opera, the Green Bay Packers, gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine.
Seelie is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS: Never give up. You define MS, it does not define you!
From bestselling Author Sapna Bhog comes a new romance series of friendship, loyalty and betrayal.
He never expected to run into her…
SHAURYA RAJPOOT is a man of many secrets. A sudden meeting with Myra Gupta changes the course of his life. Bound by a vow to his family, Shaurya keeps her at a distance…until she shatters all the barriers between them. Staying away from her soon becomes impossible, resisting her…unimaginable.
She wasn’t prepared for him…
After losing the only man she ever loved, MYRA GUPTA has gone through life barely living and merely surviving. But all that changes when she meets Shaurya Rajpoot. Fascinated and intrigued by him, Myra is drawn by his loyalty, silent strength and quiet reserve. She yearns to get to know him better. However his past, his family and their bitter history keeps getting in the way of them being together.
But when the past collides with the present and secrets are revealed, will love be enough? Or will one lie—the biggest deception of all—destroy Shaurya and Myra forever?
28 yo Myra Gupta lost the man she loved more than four years ago. Post that traumatic ordeal, she’s focused all her energy into her work as the head legal counsel for a huge company. Her work requires her to move cities and she does so with the single aim to begin her life afresh and to move beyond the past. But a chance meeting with a stranger at the airport, changes her life. Suddenly, Shaurya Rajpoot is everywhere she is.
Very soon, Myra is battling feelings for the only man who can possibly help her overcome her past and fall in love again.
Shaurya Rajpoot
A rising star in Dubai’s construction sector, Shaurya Rajpoot’s main goal in life is to protect his family from an old enemy. After being betrayed by the woman he loves, he never wanted anything permanent with another woman ever, until he bumps into Myra. She makes him feel again and soon Shaurya is fighting his growing attraction for the one woman who works for his family’s enemy.
Including her in his life is hard, keeping her away even harder. But with his family’s history and his past in the way of their happily ever after, Shaurya has to decide if he can take a risk and confide in Myra about everything.
About the Author:
Sapna Bhog is an author from India who writes contemporary and historical romance novels. As a self-proclaimed die-hard romantic, her books are filled with swoon-worthy heroes and feisty heroines who clash all the time, but do get their happy ever after. Sapna has always surrounded herself with books and when she is not writing she is reading. Originally from Dubai, she now lives in Western India with her husband, kids and a Siberian Husky. Sapna gave up a successful IT career and took a foray into writing and has never looked back since. Her favourite pastimes are reading, writing, traveling and shopping—not necessarily in that order. She loves to hear from readers.
The ace photographer and the supermodel, they should have been a match made in heaven. Instead, they fought like the demons of hell.
Complicated, surly, and sexy, Manav Apte was probably the only photographer who resented his muse. From the day he’d seen her, there had been no other. Unfortunately, she was the one woman he could never have.
Passionate, talented, and gorgeous, Diana Severes refused to give the temperamental ass behind the camera the satisfaction of knowing he got under her skin. It was, however, impossible not to notice him or his glowering disapproval that trailed her everywhere she went.
Their dislike and distrust of each other is legendary in the fashion industry and yet, the sparks that fly when they come together for work are enough to light the sets on fire.
Will the Golden Girl of India’s fashion scene be able to see beyond his hatred to the love he’s desperately trying to mask? And will the country’s most talented photographer realise that his true talent lies not in what he views through his lens but what he sees through the filter of his heart?
We walked along the beach. Me in my shorts and black t-shirt, Diana in a glamorous white beach dress with lace trim. If there was ever a contrast competition, we’d win it hands down.
“Are you okay?” I asked her.
Diana shrugged. “I guess. That was unpleasant but necessary. I’ll get next steps in place as soon as we get back to Mumbai.”
“Will your family be okay with this?”
“My parents don’t get a say in my career decisions. My dad is ex-army and my mom is a teacher. They don’t understand how this world works anyway.” She sidestepped some dog shit on the beach, moving a little closer to me.
I itched to wrap an arm around her, pull her in for a hug and kiss her. Instead, I clenched my hands in my pockets, Adil’s words still echoing in my head.
“My brother, who is a typical tech nerd, wouldn’t bother to venture an opinion either. The only other person who would have understood was Andrew, the brother who died. He was the one who encouraged me to get into modelling and pursue my dreams.” Tears glimmered in her eyes, a stray one streaking across one golden hued cheek.
“And this was your dream? To be a model?”
She stared back towards the resort in the distance, her mind somewhere I couldn’t follow.
“I wanted the fame, the glamour and the money. I wanted to be independent. I wanted to be someone. Modeling gave me all of that and when my time ends, and it will end, we all know that, I have a backup plan in place for that too.”
I stared at her, seeing her, truly seeing her for the first time since I’d met her two years ago. She was so much more than that gorgeous face and bubbly personality that people mistook to be the entirety of her.
“I wanted to be a wildlife photographer,” I blurted out with all the finesse of a horny sixteen year old.
“You can still be one,” she smiled. “Just in addition to what you already do.”
“I work nonstop. I’d never be able to find the time,” I muttered.
“We can always find the time if it’s important enough to us. We make time when we want to.” She cupped my cheek and pressed a light kiss on to it.
She was right. We made time and space for what we wanted, for what was important to us. And in that moment, I knew… Diana was desperately important to me.
“Everything he said was true, you know,” I told her, shoving my hands deeper into my pockets to keep them from reaching for her.
“Everything I said was true too, Manav,” she smiled, sadly. “But what is your truth?”
What was my truth? It was buried under so many years of misery, pain, and heartache, would I recognize it even if I found it?
About the Author:
Shilpa Suraj wears many hats – corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.
An avid reader with an overactive imagination, Shilpa has weaved stories in her head since she was a child. Her previous stints at Google, in an ad agency and as an entrepreneur provide colour to her present day stories, both fiction and non-fiction.
Hamza Ali is ready to get married, fall in love and live happily ever after. The only problem is, he’s about to marry one woman but falls in love with another… So how will he find his happily ever after?
After watching his brother’s disastrous love marriage fall to pieces, Hamza decides that the only marriage for him is an arranged one. In Mahrukh, his family finds him the perfect bride. But while Mahrukh may be the perfect bride, it’s her divorced aunt Noorain who is the perfect woman for him.
Noorain Alam has never loved or been loved. Until the day her niece gets engaged to a man who is completely out of her reach and yet, he’s everything she never knew she wanted.
Blindsided by the strength of emotion they feel for each other, Noorain and Hamza find themselves in a battle for their happiness. But will love win? Or will family and duty stand in its way?
The last thing Hamza Ali wanted, was to be late. But given the traffic and his own state of mind, he knew that it was a foregone conclusion. He just had to grit his teeth and bear it, even as he tamped down on the anxiety spiralling inside.
His phone rang and he answered it on Bluetooth, knowing that Ammi was frantic with worry.
‘I know, I know…’ he said in a placating manner.
‘They’re already here!’ Ammi said in a loud whisper.
‘I’m on my way, Ammi. I’ll be there in another fifteen minutes,’ he said.
‘Fifteen minutes?’ Ammi yelped. ‘But…’
‘I’m driving. I’ll reach sooner if I’m not talking to you.’ Saying so, he disconnected the call and focused on reaching home.
Today, of all days he had a presentation that ran late. He’d tried to explain to his boss that he needed to be home early but of course that hadn’t been possible. Kannan didn’t like to listen to excuses or anything personal when work was involved and Hamza knew better than to tell him the real reason he needed to be home early today.
People were coming to see him.
Yes. A girl’s family actually. He had told Ammi that he was ready for marriage and it would be a good idea if she started looking for potential brides for him. Ammi had been only too pleased to comply.
His twin brother Hamdaan thought he was being an unnecessary martyr by opting for an arranged marriage.
‘What would you know?’ Hamza snapped at him, annoyed. Hamdaan had a love marriage and then, when that fell through, he had an arranged marriage where he fell deeply in love with his wife Ghazal.
This just convinced him that not everyone was cut out for a grand love affair and anyway, this was what his parents wanted. He wanted to give them that happiness. At the cost of your own, Hamdaan asked.
‘What guarantee is there that a love marriage will be better?’ Hamza asked him. Hamdaan nodded.
‘I know, but…’
‘And you did have an arranged marriage with Ghazal and you two seem to be just fine,’ he reminded him.
‘Well, that’s because I got incredibly lucky,’ Hamdaan commented, a smile on his face as he thought of his wife probably.
Hamza glanced at his face in the rear-view mirror at a traffic signal and sighed. There wasn’t going to be any time to even wash his face, let alone shower, if the girl’s family had already reached home. Ammi had been slightly put out when she heard that they wanted to vet him first, and if he was a good enough candidate, she and Ghazal Bhabhi could go and see the girl and take things forward.
‘That’s how everyone does it these days,’ the broker aunty informed Ammi. The broker aunty who brought the rishta was a fascinating specimen, with her smartphone full of biodatas and photos of potential brides and bridegrooms. Hamza had looked at her paraphernalia, eyes wide that day when she wanted to ‘see’ him before finding the right rishta.
‘First they see the boy and if he’s good, then you can see the girl. That way, the girl is not unnecessarily exposed, na?’ she asked, moving the paan she’d been chewing, around inside her mouth.
‘Fine, Arifa Apa. Whatever you say,’ Ammi said.
Now, he felt the slightest bit of apprehension inside when he wondered about this stranger who could possibly become a part of his life soon. But he had wanted this, right? In fact, he had gone on to convince Hamdaan to get married again so that it would clear the way for him to get married.
His phone rang again.
‘Ammi,’ he groaned out aloud but then saw that it wasn’t his mother but it was Ghazal.
‘Yes, Bhabhi,’ he answered as the car moved forward in the traffic finally. It felt odd, calling her Bhabhi since she was so much younger than him but it added to the decorum and formality in their relationship, which was something he liked.
‘How far away from home are you?’ she asked softly.
‘Around ten minutes, tops,’ he said.
‘Okay, so don’t park in front of the house. Park behind, and I’ll be waiting near the kitchen door. You can hop inside from there and freshen up in your room, Hamza Bhai,’ she said.
‘Oh. Oh thank god!’ he muttered, feeling slightly better.
‘Don’t thank me yet. Ammi is having kittens and puppies and she won’t rest easy until you’re here,’ Ghazal said.
‘You hold her off, Bhabhi!’ he said as he stepped down on the accelerator to reach home as soon as he could.
Twenty minutes later, he emerged from his room, his face still shiny with water droplets. He took the towel from Ghazal gratefully and scrubbed his face and she winced.
‘It’s your face. Not a dirty vessel and Scotch Brite,’ she admonished him as she took the towel from his hands.
Ammi didn’t know that he was back home yet and she looked at him surprised when she came out from the kitchen, just as he was tucking his shirt inside properly. He had barely had a chance to look at himself in the mirror and he was worried about making the wrong sort of impression but Ghazal assured him that he looked fine.
‘When did you…where were…’ she trailed off.
‘Ask Bhabhi,’ he said with a smile as he kissed his mother soundly on her cheek. She did some nazar utarofy thing for him and smiled at Ghazal, even as she put her hand on her chest.
‘Go now,’ she said. Nodding, he walked into the living room where Hamdaan and Abba were speaking to the men who had come to see him.
‘Sorry, I’m a bit late,’ Hamza said as he walked up and shook hands with the three men who stood up when they saw him.
The men looked from Hamdaan to him and one of them smiled. ‘Amazing how much you two look alike,’ he said.
Hamza nodded and then, his father indicated that he should sit down on the sofa. The men all sat down and they started talking.
The mad pounding in his chest finally eased down enough and he almost relaxed until he remembered why he was here.
The middle-aged man in the centre, wearing the white shirt with black stripes, left untucked was apparently the bride’s father. He wore a namaz topi on his head and he had a beard. Hamza smiled at him as he spoke, but he was instantly curious about the girl’s family and what sort of person she was.
He also didn’t know her name yet. A droplet of sweat trickled down his back in a straight line when he realised the enormity of what he was getting into. He didn’t even know the name of the girl he was willing to marry, let alone what she looked like. And somehow, he felt that if he asked her name, it would put him and his family on the back foot. He should have asked Ghazal, he realised.
‘Have some tea,’ one of the men offered to him and he nodded. He leaned forward and picked up a tea cup and his gaze met his brother’s, who lifted an eyebrow sardonically.
The two of them were connected intrinsically, as they were twins and there were times when they could have a complete non-verbal exchange between them and no one would be the wiser.
You asked for this.
Hamza nodded slightly and he looked up at his brother defiantly. Yeah. So what?
Just wondering if you know what you’re getting into.
Shut up.
Hamdaan hid his smile as he sipped his tea and mentally, Hamza flipped him off but responded to the questions being asked of him.
When the ordeal was finally over, the three men got up and shook hands with him once more. They shook hands with Hamdaan and the bride’s father even hugged Abba as they left.
‘Satisfied?’ Hamdaan turned to him as soon as the men departed.
‘Yes,’ Hamza said, rolling his eyes. Abba returned just then before the two of them could get into an argument.
‘They’ve asked us to come and see the girl tomorrow,’ Abba announced, a smile on his face. ‘Your Ammi and Ghazal will be going.’
Hamza’s heart pounded again. It was finally happening.
‘What’s her name?’ he asked and Hamdaan gave a short laugh.
‘Not one person back in college would have believed you to be capable of this,’ he said.
‘Of what? And you wouldn’t know since you didn’t study with me,’ Hamza retorted.
‘Her name is Mahrukh,’ Ghazal said softly as she came into the living room. Hamdaan beamed at her as she went and sat down beside him. One of the girls who worked in the house followed her and she collected the tea cups and deposited them on the tray.
‘Like Shahrukh?’ Hamza asked sceptically.
Ammi chuckled. ‘No. Mahrukh is a girl’s name. It means someone who looks like the moon.’
‘It’s a beautiful name,’ Ghazal assured him.
And what of the girl, he wondered. Was she beautiful too?
About the Author:
Andaleeb Wajid is the author of 27 published novels and she writes across different genres such as romance, YA and horror. Her horror novel It Waits was shortlisted at Mami Word to Screen 2017 and her Young Adult series, The Tamanna Trilogy has been optioned for screen by a reputed production house. Andaleeb’s novel When She Went Away was shortlisted for The Hindu Young World Prize in 2017. Andaleeb is a hybrid author who has self-published more than 10 novels in the past two years.
Visually impaired author and current flavour of the Indian literary scene, Dev Arya, has not just triumphed against the odds in his life, he’s annihilated them. He’s got fame, fortune and floozies in abundance. And yet, he’s lonely.
Cafe owner and only child to her differently abled father, Avni Desai is broke, heartbroken and a true survivor. But no matter how hard she hustles, she’s still struggling to stay afloat.
And then, one day, Dev walks into her cafe… and everything changes for both of them. From excellent tiramisu to earshattering singing, from dramatic friends to accident prone sexcapades, they embark on the ride of a lifetime.
Will it all be worth it though? Will two broken souls find a way to heal each other? Or do the fractures go so deep that there is no way for either of them to find the love they so deeply crave and yet can’t seem to have?
She sounded…warm. I’d gotten into the habit of identifying people by the way they made me feel. This determinedly cheerful, husky voiced café owner definitely made me feel warm. She was also honest. Her tiramisu was exceptional.
Across the table from me, I heard her spoon scraping the bottom of her own plate. At least she wasn’t one of those girls who was on a perpetual diet. I could never understand people who existed by just sniffing at their food and then swallowing one tiny nibble of it.
“You were right,” I said. “Your tiramisu is amazing.”
“I know,” she replied. “Actually, pretty much all of my stuff is amazing.”
“So modest,” I murmured, amused at her confidence.
“Except for my carrot cake.” She sounded perplexed.
I grinned. “I’m sorry but in my opinion carrot and cake are two words that shouldn’t go together.”
“Right?” she exclaimed. “And yet, people love it. Mine tastes pretty awful. I’m still trying to figure out why.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why? I make horrible carrot cake. That’s why.”
“So,” I shrugged. “Don’t make carrot cake. Make something else. Something that you’re awesome at.”
“A menu of only tiramisu would be a bit restrictive, don’t you think?”
I laughed. Her sarcasm had me feeling lighter and more free than all the cloying sweetness I was usually surrounded by.
“I’m Dev Arya.” We hadn’t even gotten around to introducing ourselves to each other.
“Avni Desai. Nice to meet you.”
I smiled. There was something about her voice that made me want to wallow in it.
“So what do you do, Dev Arya?” she asked now.
“I’m an author,” I said, twirling my cane and waiting for her to make the connection. I usually didn’t want people to recognize my name and fawn all over me but some small childish part of me wanted to impress this woman.
“Hmm. What kind of books do you write?” she asked.
My cane froze. “What kind of books do I write?” I repeated. Was she for real? I was currently one of the most recognized names in the commercial fiction world.
“Psychological thrillers,” I said and waited for the squeal of recognition.
It didn’t come.
Disgruntled, I shifted in my seat. “Thank you for the company but I need to go now.”
She pushed her chair back. “I have to get back to work too. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Dev Arya. Good luck with your bride search.”
I grimaced. “It’s more my mother’s bride search. Anyway, good luck with your ex boyfriend thing,” I said lamely. How exactly did you describe what her ex had done to her? And I was supposed to be a writer and good with words. I mentally rolled my eyes.
I heard someone come up at that moment. Two someones, if I wasn’t wrong.
“These are my friends, Sehar and Diana and this is Dev Arya,” she said,
“I know. It is such an honour to meet you, Mr. Arya. I’m Sehar and I’m a huge fan.”
The voice was sleek and smooth. She sounded like expensive crystal, I reflected.
“Me too. I’m Diana. I’ve got a minor role in the OTT adaptation of your book, Just one more.”
An actress. She sounded like it too. If Sehar was crystal, Diana was champagne.
“Oh,” Avni said, sounding strange. “You’re a big deal?”
I grinned. “Clearly not a very big deal if you’ve never heard of me.”
“I don’t really read books.”
My heart stopped. “What kind of monster doesn’t read books?”
Sehar and Diana started to laugh.
“Not everyone is a reader.” Avni sounded miffed but I was enjoying teasing her.
“I don’t think we can eat Tiramisu together again,” I said, consideringly. “I have standards to maintain.”
Did she just growl? It certainly sounded like it but her friend’s laughter drowned it out. I decided not to push her any further.
“So, Diana, what role are you playing in Just one more?” I asked, trying to change the topic.
There was a brief pause and then she said, “The dead body.”
Uh. I wasn’t sure how to respond. The dead body appeared on my first page and just lay there while the detectives poked and prodded at it.
“I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job,” I said, finally.
“Oh she will,” Avni said, matter of factly. “She’s very good at lying in one place and not doing anything.”
The three of them erupted in a riot of bickering and heckling. I let it all wash over me and soothe the sting of the earlier rejection. Everything felt a little warmer and brighter in that moment.
About the Author:
Shilpa Suraj wears many hats – corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.
An avid reader with an overactive imagination, Shilpa has weaved stories in her head since she was a child. Her previous stints at Google, in an ad agency and as an entrepreneur provide colour to her present day stories, both fiction and non-fiction.
All Ray wanted was to have some fun. Little did she know that what began as a harmless midnight adventure would soon end up being the most terrifying night of her life.
Shuttling back and forth between the States and whichever obscure Indian town her civil servant father was transferred to, Atreya ‘Ray’ Sen’s life has always been on the move. When she comes down to sleepy old Visakhapatnam and befriends Mira, Ray hopes she could be a successful means of whiling away her summer. When Mira invites her to a late-night adventure with Mira’s boyfriend and his pals, Ray jumps at the chance for some excitement. When one of the boys suggests they take a detour to one of Vizag’s most famous haunted houses, the night takes a turn for the dark. The spirit of a mean old man seems to be following them, killing them off one by one.
A near-death experience reveals to Ray that she is the only one who can bring peace to him. Now, Ray must race against time to find a way to save her family and friends, or else the once-peaceful town of Vizag would witness a bloodbath like never before.
An old Victorian mansion with a dark history…a spirit with a vengeance…a girl with no memory of her past…
Will Ray be able to stop the killings in time? Or will she be left with no friends and no family yet again?
Real Life Incident that inspired Insincerely Yours
In the words of Stephen King, we make up horrors to cope with the real ones. But what if the horrors written is a part of reality? What if the tale is written not just as fiction, but as a memoir to the unexplained that occurred years ago, yet bears fresh imprints in mind?
When I sat down to write this story, I had to resurrect memories from my college days, from that fateful night, when my friends and I had decided to have our own little late-night adventure. Back then, we were just stupid college freshmen who didn’t have a care in the world, who would go lengths for cheap thrills from the world of the supernatural. Here, I bring you the real-life story that inspired me to write Insincerely Yours.
Our night started on the cliché note of being cold and stormy. We had found our source for horror stories: our friend Vishnu. Vishnu would always keep us at the edge of our seats with his storytelling, and that evening was no different. We had assembled in a circle around him, drinks in our hands, when he started telling us about the legendary haunted house that stood proud just off the path to the beach in Vizag. As the story goes, the house belonged to a retired colonel and his family. They kept to themselves, but the neighbors often complained of yelling and fighting coming in the evenings. One night, the house fell silent, and the neighbors saw an eerie glow emanate from the windowpanes. When they went over in the morning to check, they found that the Colonel’s family had disappeared overnight. The house was still as is, sans the family that had once lived in it. Nobody knows where they went, and the watchman claimed he never saw anyone leave the house. Their mysterious disappearance gave rise to the stories that the house is haunted.
Scoffing at his words, my friends and I decided to check it out for ourselves. So off we went, Shreya, Swetank, Vishnu and I, on a drunken midnight visit to the famous haunted house. The house had a sinister look to it, with the front lawn stretching before us, coated with dried grass, exactly how I chose to describe in the book. Inside, the house looked like someone had lived here years ago, and had suddenly just chosen to walk out. The place oozed with a cold vibe, and I wasn’t the only one who felt it. We decided to explore the house a little, and each room creeped us out a little more than the next. Most of the belongings of the house had turned to debris owing to a cyclone that had wreaked havoc in Vizag a year ago, but there was one room that had managed to stay intact. Intrigued, we stepped in bravely, and immediately, we felt helpless. It was like the place had sucked the happiness out of our lives as a blanket of depression descended on us. We saw muddy footprints going towards the bathroom, and opened the door to find the room painted in vantablack, the darkest color known to humanity, often the sign of evil. The room started feeling like it was sucking the energy out of us, slowly as it grew. Swetank, being the most sensible of us, insisted we get some fresh air at the balcony we had seen on our way into the room. At the balcony, we felt the sudden weight the room had given us lift off us, and we slowly relaxed into conversation. In the entire time we were in that house, I kept getting this feeling that someone was watching us. As we were talking, I felt something move from the corner of my eye, and turned towards the balcony door, where I saw five shadows. Four was of us standing in the balcony, but one was coming from inside the house. As I turned around quickly to see if anyone else had noticed, I saw Swetank looking pale as a sheet. We saw the shadow stay for a few seconds, and it suddenly disappeared, vanishing. At this point, Swetank and I ushered the other two out of the house, and made a run for it. All we knew was that the old Victorian mansion housed something that was pure evil, so dark that even one hour in that place had left us feeling soulless for days after. Swetank and I promised then and there that we would never meddle with forces outside of our control ever again, but as you all know, promises are meant to be broken.
About the Author:
Manasi Singh is a lawyer, graduated from one of the top law schools in India in 2019. Lawyer by day and reader by night, Manasi always had a lot of stories to share, which she did by publishing short stories and articles in newspapers, magazines and journals. In 2019, she began writing short snippets on social media under the name “The Vanilla Writer”, shortly after which she published her first novel “As Fates Would Have It”, which was received warmly by readers of all ages. Manasi is a firm believer in art and creativity not being restrained in any way, which is why she writes short stories, fiction novels, screenplays for short films, and much more.
A scandal-averse Maharaja.
A free-spirited actress.
What do you get when throw them together and add a fake engagement to the mix?
Depending on whom you ask, you either get a match made-in-heaven or a royal disaster.
Nivy Sharma knows exactly what she needs – the freedom to be herself and follow her passion. Guess what she doesn’t need? A tailor-made husband.
When her meddlesome mother tries to throw her into the arms of a mom-approved suitor, Nivy runs the other way.
Right into the arms of the man who shattered her heart.
His Highness Veerendra Singh can recognise a pain-in-the-ass when he sees it. Especially when it falls into his arms.
Even if said pain-in-the-ass has legs that go on forever and lush lips that just beg to be kissed, Veer vows to run the other way. As he did once before…
But, when the marriage-minded princess of Tejpur sets her sights on him, Veer runs back into Nivy’s arms to propose a fake engagement.
When ‘fake’ starts to feel very real, Nivy and Veer have to decide what is important… long-held prejudices or the chance for a life with the only person they’ve ever loved.
Will this be their second chance at love or will their broken past ruin their hope for a shared future?
There was a soft knock at the door, and Munshi Ji entered, with a trolley containing three cups, a big pot of black coffee, milk, sugar and a huge plate of chunky chocolate chip cookies.
He served us our coffee and just then, Veer walked in.
“Pour me a cup too, Munshi Ji,” he ordered.
I avoided Jessie’s amused gaze and smiled at Veer. He smiled back at me. We kept smiling at each other until we were pelted with bits of chocolate chip cookies.
As one, we turned to glare at Jessie who was doubled over with laughter.
“Would you miss your sister if I pushed her out of the window?” I asked with narrowed eyes.
“Not at all,” replied Veer, promptly.
Jessie ignored my threat and smiled innocently at Veer.
“Veer, do you have any plans for dinner?”
He shrugged.
“No. Why?”
“Because Anika wanted to dine with you guys today. Just you, her and Nivy.”
I choked on a cookie crumb.
“What! Why?” I yelped, while Veer stared at Jessie in horror.
“She wants to get to know you better. I think she just wants to mess with Nivy, though. Have fun,” she said, sweetly.
“I’m not hungry,” I announced.
“You will be, by dinner time,” she replied.
“Not if I go on a fast. Don’t you royals have all sorts of weird customs? I’m sure we can find some obscure text that says that the Maharaja’s fake fiancée can’t eat anything until she does some sort of penance,” I said, grasping for straws.
“I think dinner with Anika is penance enough,” said Jessie, with a laugh.
That girl was enjoying my misery far too much. I snarled under my breath as I tried to think of a way out.
“Alright. I’d like to borrow the Devgarh sword please,” I begged.
Veer shook his head.
“While I’d love to see you swing it at Anika, you can’t. It’s too heavy. Your delicate arms wouldn’t even be able to lift it off the wall,” he said regretfully.
“Can I pay you to swing it on my behalf?”
“A true Rajput doesn’t raise his hand to a woman, even if he’s convinced that said woman is actually a chudail in disguise,” he said softly.
Something went melty in the region of my heart, but I ignored it stoutly.
“Umm, if you guys could stop making sheep eyes at each other, I have a solution,” suggested the pain in our collective asses.
“And you let me go on and on about the Devgarh sword?” I snapped at her.
“It was funny,” she said with an uncaring shrug.
Veer held me back as I lunged at his sister.
“What solution, Jess?” he asked, running a soothing hand down my back.
I allowed him to lead me to the bay window, and we sat down together. I acted as if I couldn’t feel his hand holding mine.
Jessie stared at our joined hands pointedly for a second and then started talking.
“You could take Nivy out for dinner,” she suggested.
◆◆◆
VEER
“Done,” he replied.
Jessie stood up with a squeal.
Veer refused to analyse why he’d agreed so promptly. He was just trying to keep Nivy out of Anika’s way. It had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to spend as much time as he could with this maddening girl before she went back to Mumbai and forgot all about him. And it had absolutely nothing to do with how right her hand felt wrapped around his.
“Veer, I’m not sure this is such a great idea,” Nivy whispered.
“It’s better than spending time with Anika,” he whispered back.
“But…”
“It’s not a real date, just a pretend one. Think of it as two friends sharing a meal,” he said, with his fingers crossed behind his back.
“Fine,” she conceded.
Jessie clapped her hands.
“I’ll make all the arrangements. You guys just go and have fun,” she said, skipping out of the room.
“Jessie, wait,” he called, but his sister had already left.
Veer turned to Nivy in confusion.
“Why is she making arrangements for our date?”
“Date? I thought it was just two friends sharing a meal?” she asked with her arms crossed over her chest.
Veer grinned at the sceptical look on her face.
“Of course, it is,” he said as innocently as he could.
She looked so adorable when she scrunched her nose disbelievingly that he was tempted to kiss the tip of it. Of course, if he did give in to that impulse, she’d punch him in his nose, so he finished his coffee in one gulp and set the cup down.
“Ring the bell when you want all this to be cleared,” he said and left the room before he did something stupid.
Meet the Author:
Alisha Kay is a Delhi based writer, who writes romances set in India.
She doesn’t hold with the concept of damsel-in-distress, which is why her heroines are spunky women with a sharp tongue and the ability to rescue themselves. Her heroes are hot men who are woke enough to find that independence irresistible.
The Maharaja’s Fake Fiancée is Alisha’s first book.
Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here:
Cookie Policy
