Saturday, February 27, 2016

Review- Right Fit Wrong Shoe - Isn't the title of the book interesting? I had received the paperback for and honest review and here it goes. Interesting are the chapter names. For a Bollywood buff like me, this filmy style is really something to watch out for. And I read the book in a day. The book is certainly a light read and if you like girly romances this is certainly your type of book. However, if you are the one who looks for literary themes, Right Fit Wrong Shoe might not be your time of the book. Set in Kanpur, the female protagonist makes her way into your heart right from the beginning. She is believable and certainly one would begin to connect with her at places. So when there is the creepy senior at the office, you feel like taking charge and beating him to a pulp. Also, you laugh with her dialogs and feel the kind of insecurity when the male protagonist enters the scene. What I did not like is Aditya's portrayal and at certain places, the idea of the rich nasty boy playing it bad to get even gets a little too overboard. Though there aren't well-developed subplots, the supporting characters are likeable and managed to overshadow my dislike for Aditya. There are also two instances in the narration that I wish the author had fleshed out a little more. The mess her brother manages to get into could have been elaborated a little. And one keeps on looking the reason of separation of Nandini and Aditya in the past but it comes in too late. But then again 'Right Fit Wrong Shoe' is a Bollywood-style romance and these aspects of narration can be brushed aside easily. All in all a good read.

Right Fit Wrong Shoe
by 
Varsha Dixit 

Blurb 
Right Fit Wrong Shoe, begins at a point where all love stories end. The tale weaves around Nandini and all that is important to her, with two contenders gunning for the top spot; Aditya Sarin and Sneha Verma.

Aditya Sarin, the man Nandini is madly in love with, yet compelled, for some unsolved reason to shun.  Aditya, on his part, in the past declared Nandini to be a ‘millennium bhehenji (conservative girl)’ and ‘lassi (yoghurt drink) in a wine glass’. Yet he fell for her  . . . hard! However, some mysterious episode caused the lovers to, acrimoniously, part. 

Now, Aditya is back in Kanpur,  all his guns blazing (the real and the imagined), determined to devastate her life. Fortunately for the readers, and unfotunately for Aditya, Nandini is determined not to‘bite the dust’ oh so quietly. Wonder, in the battle royal, who wins or who loses it all?

Sneha Verma, the other contender, is Nandini’s BFF, that one friend who knows us better than we do. The one we trust more than Stayfree or Clearasil. Sneha maybe headstrong, hammer fisted and stern mouthed, but for Nandini, she will willingly stand in the path of imminent lightning bolt or a nasty tornado, even if it’s named Aditya Sarin. In standard X, Sneha took Nandini under her wing and that equation hasn't changed much. Sneha, a recent wife and even more recent mom, appears to be fighting some unknown demons of her own.

Right Fit Wrong Shoe, observes and opinionates the society, affected and amused. It fleetingly touches on issues; fleeting as watching discourses (courtesy Astha Channel), is trendier and quicker, than reading them. 

The book is an AAA (anytime, anywhere, anyone) read. It promises to make your day better, and a bad one not any worse. 

Grab your copy 
amazon.in | amazon.com

About The Author 

Varsha Dixit, the best selling author of four successful contemporary romance books. Her debut book, Right Fit Wrong Shoe was a national bestseller for the year 2010. Varsha was a part of the Indian Television Industry and worked as an assistant director and online editor. She considers herself a dreamer who thinks deep but writes light. Even though creativity is gender free, Varsha feels blessed and enriched to be a woman. Currently, with her family, Varsha resides in CA, USA.

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Thursday, February 25, 2016

Cover reveal : An Autograph for Anjali by Sundari Venkatraman


Releasing on March 7, 2016

Cover Reveal:

AN AUTOGRAPH FOR ANJALI

#AAFA : a Romantic Suspense

by 

Sundari Venkatraman

Sneak Peek

     Jayant Mathur is found murdered in his bed, shot at point-blank range with his own revolver. Though she’s extremely disturbed by his death, Jayant’s wife Anjali is way more upset about something else. Who stands to gain by killing the multi-millionaire businessman?

     Parth Bhardwaj is a friend and neighbour of the Mathurs. Parth is an author who goes by a pseudonym. He appears more than a friend to Anjali; while he’s also on good terms with her son Arjun who lives and studies in the UK. What role does he play in Anjali’s life? Jayant’s relatives are curious to know.

     Jayant’s brother-in-law Rana is convinced that Parth and Anjali are the murderers. But Inspector Phadke has his own doubts about this theory. In comes Samrat, the private detective who appears as quiet as a mouse. Will he be able to find the murderer?

     Will Anjali find happiness and peace? 



About the author


An Autograph For Anjali is the sixth book authored by Sundari Venkatraman. This book is a romantic suspense. Other published novels by the author are The Malhotra Bride, Meghna, The Runaway Bridegroom and The Madras Affair – all romances. She has also published a collection of romantic short stories called Matches Made In Heaven. All of Sundari Venkatraman's books have been on Amazon Top 100 Bestsellers in India, USA, UK & Australia, many times over. 

Sundari Venkatraman would love to hear from you @



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Sunday, February 21, 2016


Beyond The Milky Way 
Are We Alone? 
by 
Aithal
Blurb 
Are we alone? 

Three astronauts go to the space in search of a planet that ‘probably’ has water—one of the basic elements for the humanity to survive. Do they find it? What else do they find? They encounter something—something strange—beyond their wildest of imagination, and their ‘mission-to-explore’ becomes ‘mission-to-survive’. 

They experience something that makes them question their beliefs. It brings into focus all the things they had taken for granted—everything they had seen and learned—doesn’t seem to apply any longer. 

Something happens along the way that makes them yearn to come back to Earth. After all, home is where the heart is. 

This is not just-another-science-fiction. Rather, it will make you question your own beliefs—may they be scientific, religious, political, or something else. 

In the first installment of the Galaxy series, find out about the strange world they discover. 

Buy @

Excerpt 
Come, the aqua race 
as the wells go dry.
 Blurs the human trace, 
and the hour is nigh. 
“T -20 minutes and counting.”
 It was a typical Florida day at Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, hot and muggy.
Although it was only 10 o’clock in the morning, people were already sweating. Many folks held umbrellas to cover themselves from the scorching sun. Others were wearing various kinds of hats and caps, and their shirts and tees were wet with sweat. Their armpits—and wherever else their garments touched the skin—were showing dark patches of sweat. Almost everyone was wearing shorts. They didn’t care whether it suited them or not; they just wanted to be comfortable. The combination of sunscreen and sweat made their skins glisten, and sunglasses covered their eyes. A big crowd had gathered to watch the launch live. All sorts of vehicles were haphazardly parked on the flat meadow. Many had climbed on the rooftops of their RVs to get a better view. Some of them with flatbed trucks had brought lawn chairs with attached umbrellas. Families sitting in the chairs were enjoying chilled beverages. Kids were sitting with cans of soda. Every once in a while, some of them would roll their cold cans over their faces to get some temporary relief from the sweltering heat. Clusters of families had spread their picnic blankets across the green grass and were using coolers as anchors. Spreads of snacks were sprawled across a few of them: cookies, chips, fruits, candies, and assortments of soda. Uniformed cops in shorts were riding on cycles among them, making sure that no one had any alcohol. Some adults had their cans of soda in a soda-cozy to keep the beverage cold. The policemen would stop their bikes near the adults, and ask them to take out the cans from the soda-cozy to ensure that they were not beer cans. Little children were playing not far from them, under the watchful eyes of their parents. Some moms were applying sunscreen on their children before letting them play, and some were rubbing it on their husbands’ backs. Some people were sprawled across the grass, tanning in the sun. Others had brought their dogs with them, and their kids were taking the dogs for a walk on leashes. The dogs were wagging their tails with excitement. They would keep their noses close to the ground, sniffing and panting, stopping every now and then, before being pulled forward by their owners. Dozens of TV vans, belonging to various networks, had their satellite dishes extended high atop their roofs, broadcasting live to the world. News reporters, with microphones in their hands, were standing in front of TV cameras with the shuttle framed in the background. They were the most uncomfortable, as they had to wear a jacket in the scorching Florida sun to look professional. The bright camera lights thrown on their faces were not helping either. The moment they would stop talking to the camera, the camera lights would be turned off; they would then sigh in relief, take off their jackets, and start touching up their faces. At the edge of the ground, a tall flagpole bearing a huge United States flag fluttered lazily when the wind blew. Next to it was an enormous digital clock, counting down. It was a very festive atmosphere, and the air was filled with excitement and anticipation. Every now and then, some folks would glance at the shuttle standing in the distant horizon, with smoke blowing slowly from its base before evaporating. The NASA Test Director had already conducted the final launch team briefings and completed the inertial measurement unit preflight alignments. “T -9 minutes and holding.” “This is the final built-in hold folks,” an announcer on TV said, sounding as if he knew what was going on, but in actuality, he was merely reading from a script given to him by NASA. “This is what it means—there are several things happening. The final launch window is determined, the flight recorders are activated, and the final ‘go/no-go’ launch polls are conducted by NASA Test Director, Mission Management Team, and the launch director.” He was explaining it quite well on TV. Audiences across the world were watching this launch intently. It was a highly publicized launch. After the first manned mission to the moon, Apollo 11, this was the most viewed mission. “This is the last launch to take place before NASA changes its direction. The Last One, as it is dubbed. We know that there is water on this unknown planet, and where there is water, there is life. Without water, no life has ever sustained. We all know how dangerously low we are on our water resources. Sure, we have plenty of seawater. But it has salt, and is not meant for human consumption. A few companies have tried to develop technology to convert it into fresh water by spending billions of dollars on desalination plants. However, it’s way too expensive and not practical. The resources are dwindling, and famine is widespread. This is it folks, it’s now or never. Colonizing this unknown planet is our only option,” he said, trying to sound dramatic. “And by water, I mean liquid water. Water can be in other states too: frozen solid or evaporated into a gas. Take Enceladus, the sixth-largest moon of Saturn. We have discovered a water-rich plume venting out from its south polar region. It shoots geyser-like jets of water vapor that are about one hundred miles long. Think of it as a volcano, but instead of lava, it’s pouring out steam, a cryovolcanic eruption. So, even though we know it has water, life is not possible for us humans—primitive microbial life may be possible—but not for us. Saturn has 26 million times the water on Earth; yes, you heard it right folks, 26 million. Liquid water is just one of the components required for us to live. There are two more components that a planet needs to have: the right atmosphere and temperature. The planet cannot be too hot or too cold, only just right. Our neighbor, Venus, is around thirty percent closer to the sun and eight hundred degrees hotter. Then there is the atmosphere; it should have the right amount of oxygen to breathe. Of course, making a huge air-conditioned capsule can control these two to a certain degree. But not water. We need natural, liquid water that a planet can produce. Mars is the first planet we have thought of to colonize. And it is natural to look at it first as it is closest to us, only 48 million miles away, a rock’s throw away compared to the astronomical distances from other planets. But as we get to know more about it, we realize how harsh life can be. Here are a few things that encourage us to find out if living on Mars is possible. It has much lower gravity, so you will weigh much less. There is evidence of flowing, liquid water, but it’s all gone now. It has turned from a warmer, wetter planet into a cold, dry one. There have been talks about terraforming, a process to make the planet habitable like Earth. But then you are talking about confining yourself in a large capsule. You can forget about going on treks, scaling the heights of mountains, scuba diving, taking nature walks, and many other things that we take for granted on our Earth. Basically, you won’t be able to open the door and go outside casually. Why am I telling you all this? You can get this from the Internet. There is a reason. Bear with me for a moment. We know our galaxy is about 13.2 billion years old. And our solar system is about 4.5 billion years old. So Earth is around 4.5 billion years old. The sun’s age is estimated to be around 12 billion years. So we are almost half way there. All these are enormous numbers, you’ll say, and I agree. But let’s juxtapose these numbers with our existence. Our ancestors have only existed for 6 million years. And we, the modern form of humans, have been around for only 200,000 years. And civilization, as we know it, is only 6,000 years old. See where I am going with it? Although the life of our solar system is enormous, we have been around for only a fraction of that time. And the resources are already dwindling. Look around you. He paused for a moment to let this sink in. We have to find a way to prolong our existence. I have to repeat the famous words of Neil Armstrong, ‘one small leap for man, one giant leap for mankind,’ because they still hold true. We have come a long way in our understanding of the vast universe, but our basic needs remain the same. We have advanced technologically, but have we evolved? Have we adapted? Are we using fewer resources? Studies after studies tell us that we are not. An average person needs, no, uses more resources. Where do they come from? In this digital age, we all consume more. Use more batteries for our devices, why?Because we have many more devices now than we had ten years ago. Laptops, phones, games, toys, you name it. We eat more and drink more. In this fast moving world of ours, where information is at our fingertips, we have seen the globe shrinking. In addition to getting news of our neighboring villages and cities, we are getting news from our neighboring countries. We are getting more aware of our world, and it doesn’t look good. We can either ignore all the information we have, or we can do something about it. Our population is growing, and our resources are shrinking. It’s not political any more. It’s our survival,” he paused, his voice lowered, almost becoming a hush. “There won’t be any politicians if no one survives.” He stayed silent for a while, knowing that silence on TV was a no-no. But his journalistic instincts told him that it was the right thing to do. He was passionate about this cause, and he had the ear of the world. However, he had to strike the right balance between captivating his audience and depressing them. He didn’t want to be a doomsayer. But at the same time, he wanted to convey the urgency. “This planet, simply called P2, was recently discovered by NASA. Technically, this so called—The Last One—is a misnomer as there can be more flights by NASA. If we find that life is sustainable on this planet, we will have more flights to P2,” he boomed, changing his voice to a deeper baritone. “How far is P2? Farther than the farthest planet in our solar system. In addition to the regular, orange-colored rocket boosters, the space shuttle is also fitted with two giant SEP arms. SEP stands for Solar Electric Propulsion. They will unfurl once the shuttle has reached outer space, after which the shuttle will generate its own energy, drawing it from the sun. You have seen these kinds of shuttles used for traveling to the International Space Station, or for adding a solar panel to a satellite. But this one has been modified to carry more scientific instruments. Once on P2, they will be used extensively to analyze soil samples, rock samples, and other materials that have been collected. After this, NASA is going to divert its resources to explore other things. Congress has decided to cut the budget for such programs. They feel that the funds should be used in more fruitful missions. Is it a wise move? You decide.” The ground was separated by water, and beyond that, the Space Shuttle. Lots of people were peering through their binoculars to feel closer to the launch than they actually were. “T -9 minutes and counting,” the voice boomed on the PA. The automatic ground launch sequencer was started. “We have less than ten minutes to witness a historical moment. Gather everyone around the TV to see this for the last time. It’s been over forty-five years since we landed the first man on the moon. We have learned many things about our space since then,” said the announcer, and then his tone changed. “Let’s all take a moment to consider how tiny we are in the scheme of things. The space is a vast unknown. We want to know as much as we can. The space program is about to change directions in how we gather this information. Whether you agree or not with our government, one thing is for sure—we are the most advanced and powerful nation in the space program. Many of you question the wisdom in dismantling something so hugely successful. So let’s not forget the perks of such programs. NASA has benefited mankind so much. Innumerable inventions exist that have come out of NASA. I can go on and on praising NASA, but let’s get back to what’s happening now.” On the ground where people were waiting patiently for the launch, a few ice cream trucks were selling candies, ice creams, bottled water, sodas, and much more. Little children had gathered around the trucks. “Do you have beer?” asked one man, hoping that the vendor did. “No sir,” replied the vendor, shaking his head vigorously. “We are not allowed to sell beer, and you are not allowed to drink it in a public place. If the cops see you drinking one, they’ll ticket you.” “I know that,” the man glared at him. “Oh,” the vendor replied sheepishly. “Sorry.” “Give me an ice cream,” the man said, shaking his head in disappointment. “What flavor?” “Chocolate,” he replied, and then he added, “in a cone.” The man handed him a ten-dollar bill, and the vendor returned the change. “T -7 minutes and 30 seconds,” the voice on the PA continued. The access arm of the orbiter was slowly retracted. It looked

About the Author

The author was born and raised in Mumbai, India. He came to the US in 1989 to New York. He currently resides in Los Angeles with his wife and two children.


                          

         

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Voyagers Into the Unknown 
by 
Ruchira Khanna

Blurb 
In the historic Indian town of Agra, you can find a very unusual tour company, which is owned by a charming young man named Raj. Although Raj's official job is to show off the historical landmarks of Agra, including the legendary Taj-Mahal, his true mission is to heal the souls of his broken "birds," as he affectionately refers to his tour participants. His business operates purely upon word-of-mouth referrals, ensuring that all of his tour members arrive in Agra with their hearts in their hands, ready for the spiritual growth and cleansing that Raj is known to provide. Healing the hearts of the spiritually damaged can be a difficult job, and in this particular tale, Raj finds himself faced with his most challenging tour group yet. First, there is Ira, a stunningly gorgeous but fragile young woman on the brink of suicide. Next, we meet Darci and Lennard, a couple on the verge of divorce. Then there is Carl, an irritable, antisocial workaholic who has burned all of his bridges. Lastly, we meet Asha, an elderly widow who still yearns for the company and comfort of her late husband. When disaster strikes the tour group, everything is thrown into jeopardy, including lives, relationships, and Raj's very reputation as a tour guide. Raj must find a way to lift the spirits of these five special travelers, even in the face of death and despair. Venture into the unknown and discover how Raj Touristry heals the brokenhearted, one soul at a time.

Excerpt
Dawn had risen over the historic Indian town of Agra. Agra was a city of monuments, which stood tall, their unmatched grandeur telling of their long and fascinating history. The morning air was filled with the sounds of roosters calling, birds chirping, and morning prayers and salutations. Dogs and cows were being hustled through the streets and errand boys on bicycles hurried along to their respective chores and deliveries.

Amidst this vibrant chaos, a man in his late thirties with an athletic physique, broad shoulders, and unkempt black hair was briefing his colleague in a quiet, affable tone. He held a bunch of papers in his hand, and the other man nodded obediently as he glanced through them, making notes on the pad in his hands. “So, are you all set?” inquired Raj, the black-haired man.

“I think so,” replied the other man confidently, as he took his seat behind the wheel of a mini-bus.

“Call me if you have any questions, Albert. You know where to reach me,” added Raj as he shut the door of the driver’s seat, giving his driver two thumbs up. Albert started the engine quickly and began to roll away from the curb. He was abruptly halted by a sharp knock on the door of the vehicle. The driver slammed on the brakes and looked to see who was doing the hammering. Raj reappeared on the other side of the glass with blank boards and a sharpie. Albert opened the door and reached out for the additional items. “Write the names of my birds on these planks. It will be easier for them to spot you,” explained Raj.

“Birds?” inquired Albert with a confused expression.

“Sure, Birds. Since they will fly back to where they are coming from in a week’s time.”


“Aha! Yes, boss!” Albert winked and started his journey.

About The Author 

A Reiki Master where she passes out information about channeling universal energy and conducts sessions. The author of “Choices”, “The Adventures of Alex and Angelo” but just another soul trying to make a difference in this lifetime.

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Color Me Rich 
by
Mohan Deep

Blurb 


A sensitive love story of a handsome and talented struggling painter Akash Saigal. What happens when he marries an extremely rich and beautiful artist and art investor Zenobia Taraporevala?

Grab your copy @

amazon.com | amazon.in


Prologue ( A teaser)

J J School of Art, Mumbai.
Taking a charcoal pencil, Akash Saigal started drawing the wood-and-stone structure, popularly known as „Kipling Bungalow‟. He was sketching sitting on a bench on which, in another era, K K Hebbar, M F Husain, Syed Haider Raza, Sadanand Bakre, V S Gaitonde, even Dadasaheb Phalke had sat with their sketchbooks, sketching the house where the author of The Jungle Book was born.
Ganpat Gupte appeared along with two of his gang. Gupte was the nephew of a minister, or so he claimed, and had the arrogance that comes with power. 
“Ae Akash, kae karto?”
Akash looked up at the trio and said, “Nothing much. Just a drawing.
“Okay. What is the day today?”
“I should have known.Tere ko blue shirt hai na?”
Akash didn‟t get the connection, but Gupte‟s chamchas laughed knowingly.
The three boys sang in unison, “Monday, blue shirt. Tuesday, black shirt. Wednesday, blue shirt. Thursday black shirt. Friday, blue shirt. Saturday, black shirt. Sunday...laundry!”
If Akash was hurt, he didn‟t show it. He laughed sheepishly and continued sketching the bungalow.
But he would never forget this.


About the Author 

Mohan Deep, is an Indian author, painter and Feng Shui Master. Mohan Deep is the author of ‘The Mystery and Mystique of Madhubala’ (1996), ‘It’s My Life’ (Novel) (1997), ‘Simply Scandalous: Meena Kumari’ (1998), ‘Eurekha!’ – an unauthorized biography of Rekha. (1999), ‘Four Options’ (2000), ‘Feng Shui for the Bold & Beautiful, the Rich and Famous’ (2001) and ‘Nehru and the Tantrik Woman’ (2002). After a sabbatical of a decade, during which he touched upon the lifves of people as a Feng Shui Master, he is back with The Five Foolish Virgins, a book of fiction, to be launched in April 2013. Mohan Deep is arguably the only Indian author to write what is often described as controversial, unauthorized star biographies in India. Columnist-journalist and former editor of 'Illustrated Weekly of India', Khushwant Singh called him 'a truly gifted gossip writer'. “The maverick writer”, like columnist-reviewer-poetess Tara Patel described him has also been called William Goldman of Bollywood’s stars (By Behram Contractor, the Editor of Afternoon Despatch & Courier) (Source) Kitty Kelly of India (By R K Bajaj, the Editor of ‘The Daily’). Interestingly, almost every book he has wrote/penned has invited controversies for its bold content.

                          

         
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Use the #MTJD and #Bollywooddivastory to spread the word
More Than Just Desire 
by SummeritaRhayne

Blurb 


The Bollywood diva who regrets nothing...
Piya walked out of an explosive situation three years ago. Now she's back in Bollywood and wants to regain the crown that she left behind when she ran away from Arfaaz. It seems everyone who used to idolize her has forgotten her. In the competitive world of starry glamour, the only way she can restart her career is trash the past and make some waves.

The man who wants her atonement..
Arfaaz is determined to get his revenge on Piya for making a farce of their marriage and then leaving him to face the mudslinging. He forces her to keep up the appearances and stay with him so she can play the loving wife and repent on her sins. But he finds Piya isn't so easy to handle. She drives him crazy with her antics. On the top of that the attraction between them sizzles and threatens to make him forget reason.

Conflict clashes with desire..
No matter how intense the passion between them gets, their ways are bound to diverge. Piya knows she cannot let this man find a way into her heart. There is too much to risk and she cannot afford to forget the real reason she has come back. Success is the only mantra she knows and really, all Arfaaz wants is revenge…

Pre-Order Now 

EXCERPT 

‘You’ll divorce me?’ The sense of anticlimax she felt annoyed her. Why wouldn’t he, for God’s sake? She’d been far from an ideal partner. No man wanted a three year estranged wife surely?Or why would he allow her to remain away for so long? For no logical reason, the knowledge had a sharp edge, stabbing her insides deeply. Arfaaz’s gaze was fixed on the flush deepening on her cheeks. The colour of anger...or joy at getting her freedom? It had been a mistake to pick her up in his arms, to give in to the urge to subdue that stubborn defiance. Three years since he’d touched her, yet her bones felt as delicate under his hands as the night he’d gripped her shoulders in anger. Evoking the same remorse one might feel for handling a bird badly. She had worn a metal colored dress that night. He could still feel the slithery fabric beneath his fingers. Another of her risqué dresses, with deceptively demure full sleeves while the shocker was the back. Which was missing. He had never objected to what she wore, though primitive instincts protested. She had a media image to maintain. He hadn’t wanted to act the possessive husband. A mistake, he thought again. Even the brief brush of her body against his had lit a spark that reminded him of how possessive he’d wanted to be. She had taken enough advantage of him. The grim thought rose from a host of emotions. He’d suffered, he’d been fooled, he’d been dumped. Was he going to take it all and let her go as easy as pie? ‘If you want a divorce, you’ll have to do a small favour for me first,’ he told her. ‘Favour?’ ‘Something which is important to me. Then you’ll be free to go.’ ‘I will?’ He shrugged, letting her make what she could out of it. ‘Anyway, we can’t stand here and talk it out. Come inside. We’ll discuss it over dinner.’ ‘Yes, divorce must be one of the prime discussable topics for dinnertime conversation,’ she said waspishly. ‘For everything spectacular Piya the topnotch actress has done, this must be the downslide indeed. To tamely sit across her husband and rationally chat over the break-up of her marriage,’ he jibed harshly. ‘However, I think it’s time for you to take a step down from the pedestal.’


Meet SummeritaRhayne 


SummeritaRhayne loves to write sensual and emotional romance. There's no knowing when some quirky - or sometimes even not so quirky - happening in daily life might trigger her right brain and then she's off craving a new story. She loves writing characters who learn and grow and find their way out of their troubles and emotional hang-ups. Hot, sensual heroes and sassy but sweet heroines mostly fit the bill in her stories. She also believes that a touch of humor never goes amiss in a book.


She divides her time between family, job and writing - and loves winding down with music, movies and the internet!

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Encounters 
by 
SumanaKhan 
Blurb 
Someone Is Always Waiting 

Watch It 


EXCERPT FROM THE NOVELETTE “THE STORYTELLER” IN ENCOUNTERS COLLECTION

I stare at the cement bench covered in pigeon shit and spot the dim outline of the granite slab embedded in the backrest. Years ago, when the bench was new, the granite slab was a shiny black mirror inscribed with the words ‘Dedicated to the courageous people of Thirukadal’. Four cyclones and many pigeons later, the words have disappeared. The place is so choked with weeds that the bench appears to rest on the thorny plants. Behind me, beyond a muddy track, the Bay of Bengal hisses and sighs in a treacherous language.

I look up at the sky, as if to decode the time. My watch says it is half past seven in the morning, but the sky, clotted with grey clouds, remains secretive. It could be evening as far as the heavens are concerned. A depressing form of rain is assured; the kind that only occurs in this eastern coast of South India—skies that sob continuously for forty-eight hours, increasing humidity, mosquitoes and the stench of choked drains, damp walls and wet clothes. I wonder if the sky had been just as morose on the morning of 26 December, 2004.

I tie a handkerchief around my face, covering my nose and mouth, and hack away at the weeds. Swarms of mosquitoes and flies rise in a static buzz and hover over my head like a satanic dark halo. It takes me an hour to clear a small area around the bench. The sky starts its weeping just as I scrub the bench with a coconut husk and Vim detergent powder.    

After half an hour, the granite slab gleams into existence once again. I’ve got my memorial ritual paraphernalia in a Food World plastic bag. I bring out a strand of jasmine that I loop around the granite slab, its fragrance weak in the rain. I crouch under my umbrella that won’t open fully and light a couple of incense sticks. I’ve forgotten to bring the incense holder, so I stick the smouldering incense into a banana that was to be my breakfast. I place it on the bench in front of the granite slab and hold the umbrella over it. I close my eyes in an attempt to pray. All I can think of is the angry allergic rash that’s spreading on my legs and hands thanks to the weeds and that the incense smells like a cheap aftershave.

I give up and sit on the bench, still holding the umbrella over the incense. The rain stings my skin like the rash. The hard, wet seat numbs my thighs instantly and a dull arthritic pain blooms in my knees and lower back. I squirm, shifting my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I wait, just as I’ve waited in vain for the last seven years, for the storyteller to show up. The incense is all ash now. I may as well eat the banana and tell you the story of how I met this mysterious man.    

About The Author 

Sumana Khan was born and raised in Bangalore and currently lives in the UK. She is a blogger and a student. Her debut novel was The Revenge of Kaivalya. 

Author website: http://www.sumanakhan.com

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Encounters - Someone's Always Waiting by Sumana Khan

Encounters - Someone's Always Waiting

bySumana Khan

Giveaway ends December 11, 2015.
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