tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66947395355920874182024-03-23T15:45:29.477+05:30Book Review ToursDigital Events * Beta Reading * e-Book FormattingDebdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.comBlogger381125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-66713502771947119442023-08-17T00:00:00.002+05:302023-08-17T00:00:00.129+05:30#ReleaseDayBlitz :: Lost (In Disgrace #2) by Shilpa Suraj - #Contemporary #Romance @shilpaauthor<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2023/08/lost-in-disgrace-2-shilp-suraj.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIr5H4F6MoO-_QyUe6LdZBgrqgVfoIyuoJPxUDLA7MRaL4biErbvnc6CeG1ffS-MbNEAk-G_M25vyi2Wz5FaN9oIWgPNjcaL4vYF-JSCz92Fi3-tBRJIJeH85XQ4OcMqS2TBrEJ5fi2YVqev03HzbAHYhfAcipqSKlFd9LC9ycFVk0bQAKYxa8cwP5c3I/s16000/Lost%20by%20Shilpa%20Suraj.jpg" /></a></div><br /><h4 style="text-align: center;">Lost is a story of love, betrayal, honour, revenge, and everything in between. It’s also a love story that sets fire to the world they live in leaving them with no choice but to rise from the ashes anew…</h4><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2023/08/lost-in-disgrace-2-shilp-suraj.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2lMeUrinyRDvPY1IzieijrpbieIsh1z1LQIfXcY4k6tKuQktPLULX3esSljC7BD1Uvl4pTnKO5kLR7LPlq6Fxk4SOKiVsfOA6CLCyyn5EgN7_-sXGlB6rBRl3BbEnGPMAhbiLU8UrhJge_xVsYnfeLVDSOqOXCRuaoxgGTXWE1XyjXXEKsDSycZzfkQE/s320/Final-Lost.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p>Lieutenant Rahul Jaishankar of the Indian Navy is a man of honour, principles and commitment. His love for his family, his ethics, and his integrity is only eclipsed by his love for his country. He has no time or space to love anything or anyone else. Until the day Ayaana Sahni explodes into his life. Suddenly, she’s all he can think of, all he can hope for, all he dreams of, awake or asleep…<br /><br />But Ayaana isn’t a dream he can afford to have. She’s an illusion. Ayaana Sahni is actually Aarushi Mittal. And Aarushi Mittal wants only one thing…Vengeance. And no man, not even one as deliciously gorgeous as Lieutenant Rahul was going to get in her way.<br /><br />An award winning, intrepid journalist, Aarushi spends most of her life abroad working on the kind of devastating stories that the world would never hear of if not for people like her. But it has come at the cost of her personal life, at the cost of time with family, and at the heartbreaking cost of her friend’s devastating tragedy.<br /><br />Aarushi needs to atone for her negligence, she needs to right the wrongs done in her absence, and she needs to make the villain in her friend’s story pay. What she really needs to make that happen is a way into the tightly knit community of the Indian Navy and Lieutenant Rahul Jaishankar is it. And if that means there is some collateral damage along the way, then so be it. Even if the collateral being damaged makes her yearn for dreams that don’t exist. Surely, the Lieutenant would understand, wouldn’t he?<br /><br />Aarushi isn’t built for love. She’s built to burn down the world for her loved ones instead. So what if this man makes her want things she’s never wanted? So what if this man makes her heart ache for something she’ll never have? So what if, suddenly, this man is all she wants?<br /><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/175421744-lost" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3YCvkYL" target="_blank">Amazon IN</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3QMiWDg" target="_blank">Amazon US</a></b></span></p><p><br /><br /></p><h1 style="text-align: center;"><u>Read an Excerpt from Lost</u></h1><p></p><p><br />“So no women,” Paul asked again, after the server took down the order and left. </p><p>“No women,” Rahul confirmed. “I’m done with them.”</p><p>“Well, that’s disappointing.” A husky voice intruded on their conversation.</p><p>Rahul glanced up and he could have sworn time stood still. </p><p>Huge eyes lined with kajal and framed by the longest eyelashes in existence gazed down at him. Her right eyebrow was pierced and had a tiny silver ring with a star dangling from it. A pert little nose, lush, pouty lips lined in a bold red, and a heart shaped chin topped by shoulder length hair with green tips, she was dramatic, different and dangerous. All in capital letters. </p><p>“Told you to look,” Paul murmured as Rahul continued to gape at the vision in front of him. </p><p>They got to their feet. Rahul a lot more slowly, because it felt like the ground beneath his legs was strangely unsteady. </p><p>“Ma’am,” he said quietly, grateful his voice at least was steady. </p><p>“Ayaana,” she said in reply. “My name is Ayaana Sahni.” </p><p>“Lieutenant Rahul Jaishankar,” he replied. “And my friend and colleague, Lieutenant Paul Alvares.” </p><p>She smiled, a slow, slight tilting of her lips. Her eyes darkened as she stared at him. He felt the effect of that smile in the pit of his stomach. Heat consumed him, making him shove suddenly shaky hands into his trouser pockets. </p><p>“Are you sure you’re off women, Lieutenant?” she asked, her voice sounding like the sweet, hot slide of whiskey over ice, the clink of crystal against polished stone. </p><p>Rahul felt like she’d poured that whiskey down his throat and flicked a lit match in after it. His entire body felt like dry tinder at a bonfire. </p><p>Was he sure? No, he wasn’t. As he locked eyes with the woman, Rahul Jaishankar was sure of only one thing. Tonight was going to change everything.</p><p><br /></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About the Author:</u></b></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="914" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqKHxpj2OiCHs42YvNAYWjLlUzyJsQNJBDIPMXhr07ojr7y3gu1JeXhXUTqfwG8fg0j3AdPFppna3RWxlJANWVZm2Occ3aDL6cWQpbYaILbi0xBQ4T6d6ai2ChJdoEAYf0JUcifk72YjtTMvGeV723ebo62Vp4fUE3bqCTK2gcQDxCBK9y_DnkKsE/s320/Shilpa%20Suraj.jpeg" width="229" /></a></div>A published author with Harlequin India – Mills & Boon India Collection and Juggernaut, Shilpa Suraj’s books have hit both the Hot New Releases and Bestseller lists on Amazon. Her next novel, tentatively titled ‘Wrong,’ has been contracted by Rupa Publications and will release later this year. She is also part of the Flipped Anthology by Harper Collins and had an audiobook book Insta Reddy release with Storytel.<br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />She is, amongst other things, currently working on ‘Frazzled and Fabulous,’ a humorous, true-to-life parenting story that is part memoir and part nonfiction.<br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />An avid reader with a passion for creative writing and storytelling saw her participating in writing competitions at school and dabbling in copy writing for an ad agency as a teenager. Twenty years in the corporate space, including a stint in Corporate Communications for Google, India, and a spell at entrepreneurship all hold her in good stead for her multiple current roles of author, mother and Head of Human Resources & Public Relations at an architecture and interior design firm.<br /><br /></span></div></span></div><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Contact the Author:<br /></u></b></span></span><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://shilpasuraj.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/shilpasuraj/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/shilpaauthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shilpa.suraj/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> * <a href="http://eepurl.com/dt-Br9" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></span></p><p><br /></p><br />Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-74929552816790134252023-07-27T00:00:00.005+05:302023-07-27T12:47:04.850+05:30#NewRelease :: His Reluctant Princess by Kyra Seth - @KyraSethAuthor #Romance #Suspense<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2023/07/his-reluctant-princess.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO7TighXK_OwW7T3sq0n6w7xENuKmTMEa1Gfki95G5s7TVCTIq9pt7mjHss9KTArW5MXzMIc1AxDe2OHfoThXbMzNf7gSN3H42CksYai2ba_7vQev5LK5se1Lm_3_bXp5sIRJxiDjD8ATvKFbHMhvdkNDMruS8GN-YoE2sRiVCc3jLak1xo4saa3zontw/s16000/His%20Reluctant%20Princess%20-brt.png" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEDXL6i4zKyeeogEP0WICKo9xmTjW_dENEVchmyd2WBCRtucpVqcdM2mJe9eI4rqklWQfLjfRZsWhD0M7LtCzgbQfiB2p_eK_RZn0itcUxpCipvVqrYt11sXCHO_JB7ttnPZL2i5l4sQ9QN7D0h-m_cJ9Sjw_UovaQyyE6DWEYP2Sov4bsd529sViG4YA/w400-h640/Final-Reluctant%20princess-2023.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><h4>She refuses to marry a man who doesn’t love her…</h4>A princess in retreat, Her Highness Natasha Raje breaks her unwanted betrothal to Maharajah Digvijay Singh aka DV, turns her back on the world of old money and even older grudges, and escapes to Paradiso, a commune in Goa.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><h4>He knows she’s nothing but trouble, and yet he can’t get her out of his mind…</h4>DV is thrilled Tasha broke off their betrothal. He doesn’t want to marry her any more than she wants to marry him…and yet, he misses her. Badly enough to end up spying on her at her precious commune.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When his disastrous stint at spying coincides with someone playing a malicious prank on Tasha, DV moves in, bag and baggage, to play hero. Her Highness may not be marrying him but he’ll be dammed if he doesn’t still keep her safe!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Can their explosive attraction win over the baggage of their shared past? Can Tasha trust DV with her fragile heart? And can DV keep her safe from her stalker long enough to convince her to give him a second chance?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><a href="https://amzn.to/43sRmha" target="_blank">Amazon India</a> I <a href="https://amzn.to/44r1nNm" target="_blank">Amazon US</a> </b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><h1 style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><u>Read an Excerpt from His Reluctant Princess</u></h1><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I leaned against the wall and drew in a deep breath. As the salty sea breeze filled my lungs, I raised my face to the sky and allowed the bright Goan sunshine to bathe me in its warmth. For the first time in my life, I felt free. I felt safe. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“It’s good to see you happy for once,” said Freddy, and I tried not to make a scrunchy face.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Happy was a bit of a stretch. I hadn’t felt happy for a long time. And I didn’t think I ever would. But, while I couldn’t do happy, I could definitely do grateful. Which meant that I couldn’t unload any more of my issues on Freddy, who had been kind enough to offer me shelter when I turned up at his doorstep unannounced.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Only an idiot wouldn’t be happy in paradise,” I replied, with a smile.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And that proved what my mother had always said. I was an idiot. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My father had been the last Raja of Hindal, and I had inherited his considerable fortune, which was good since I refused to touch my mother’s money. After the witch died - hopefully, in prison - I was going to donate all her money to charity in her sister, Princess Smriti’s name, knowing that it would make my mother’s evil soul weep in fury for the rest of eternity. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">For now, I had plenty of money. Enough to live wherever I wanted. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When I left Nagaur House and my old life behind, I had chosen to live in paradise - or what passed for paradise on earth - and yet, I couldn’t dredge up even one ounce of happiness from the bottom of my miserable soul. All because of a man. His Highness Digvijay Singh, Maharaja of the erstwhile princely state of Bindhar, also known as DV.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Who was the moron who said that doing the right thing brought its own form of joy? Whoever he was - because of course, it was a man. A woman would never say anything so stupid - he deserved to be shot in the head. At point-blank. Because it wasn’t true. For once in my life, I had done the right thing, and all it did was bring me misery. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I had broken off my betrothal to DV because I couldn’t bear to be tied to a man who didn’t want me. I had seen it in his eyes every time he looked at me. He was trapped. And he wasn’t even fighting to get away. He was just resigned to his fate.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">You’d think that after a lifetime of not being wanted by anyone, one more rejection wouldn’t pinch anymore. But it did. Oh, it did. The resignation that I saw in his eyes when he talked about our future together on the night of Sona’s wedding hurt like a bitch. He was too decent to dump a girl whose mother had been arrested for murdering her sister and brother-in-law. A girl who was now all alone in the world except for a grandmother and a new-found cousin. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He might have been too decent to break it off, but I wasn’t. I was tired of feeling unwanted. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">All my life, my mother had treated me like a burden. As if I was a cross that she had to bear. A taint on the pure bloodline of the Nagaurs and the Hindals. I had grown up believing that I would never be good enough for my family, no matter how much I tried. My grandmother had been too wrapped up in her grief over my aunt’s death to notice how my mother was treating me, and I had believed all the nonsense that my mother had stuffed into my head. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When I realised the extent of my mother’s crimes, I saw that there was nothing to tie me to my blue-blooded family anymore. I was only living in Nagaur House because I was too much of a chicken to stand up to my bully of a mother. Now that she was in jail, I was free to live my life on my terms. Free to break away from anything and anyone who made me feel less of a person. Unwanted. Rejected.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My grandmother had a shiny new granddaughter, Sona. She didn’t need me hanging around the house as a constant reminder of my mother’s crimes. Which was why I broke off my engagement and walked out on my family that night. </div><div><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About Author</u></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Kyra Seth is a Mumbai-based writer who juggles writing, motherhood, and a very demanding day job.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Her books are steamy, funny and packed with action and suspense.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">His Accidental Princess was her first book.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">She loves to connect with her readers, so feel free to reach out to her on social media.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><a href="https://kyraseth.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> I <a href="https://www.instagram.com/kyrasethauthor/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> I <a href="https://twitter.com/kyrasethauthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div>Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-73701615525125145522023-05-25T00:00:00.002+05:302023-05-25T00:00:00.131+05:30#ReleaseDayBlitz :: Flawed (In Disgrace #1) by Shilpa Suraj - #Contemporary #Romance @shilpaauthor<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2023/05/Flawed-in-Disgrace.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggC2WBJJjha6ZCt3ADjjjPQMP5Jka4Vp7ujMyzOw2w7z6lZh8PanSnw-SAgdNlrNrlXxI6GtjehcEl7Q6vz4iSM3mKABuvLQtwywXh3CIyrHZ-Mgb4Iyk_kFeJOd9ASUo3bn0WWZ8BamDmXjAKMWvYJ9P_8IBA93FUkZIsIfzrb4g1qjuyPhU1tOZ5/s16000/Flawed%20by%20Shilpa%20Suraj.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><h3><b><i>Why would anyone want perfection when they could have Vaani Jaishankar instead?</i></b></h3><b><i><br /></i></b></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2023/05/Flawed-in-Disgrace.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhk6g-llYb9Js61OsdK3XmY6_6tV89fAvk6NdJbDQtoh7Lb8zWGrqe_o-iBOHksq8gcd5ZJI_YgbIerATBHYk6h_oOZm1dIG9nG1ovV6v0PdP6BpS0Xazd-wFAT3yVchG3alqSfyqDfRVJQk1oV2nd3uCcxaPJsIjYBsHRnai2IScPqpOS_0YuILNK/s320/Final-Flawed.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div><b>Aditya Khamankar</b> was a chartered accountant who built his life on a bedrock of numbers. For no matter what happened, numbers and math never let you down. They stayed the same. And that fundamental fact defined many of his choices. He was the obedient son, the diligent student, the overachieving employee, the reliable friend. All he wanted in his life was routine and sensible discourse. All he craved in that same life was peace and quiet. And then his senior partner’s flighty daughter came home. And life as he knew it was never the same again…</div><div><br /></div><div>Reality television villain and tabloid fodder, <b>Vaani Jaishankar</b> lived for the arclights. The notoriety, the glamour, the larger than life noise that came with it held her in thrall. Until the industry she loved and the people she trusted used and abandoned her. And now, she was back home. Darkening the doorstep of her childhood home, something she’d sworn she’d never do and working in her father’s accountancy firm…Could God just take her now already? And then there was her father’s business partner…</div><div><br /></div><div><i>What happens when Perfection meets Flawed? Do the cracks beneath his façade show? Or is it as well hidden as the foundation of grit and ambition her shiny polish conceals?</i></div><div><br /></div><div>When attraction wars with common sense and love burns a fiery rope that ties them together, Aditya and Vaani need to decide if this is enough…If they are enough for each other? For the world doesn’t believe they are and the world isn’t done with them yet…<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/131128586-flawed" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/434aing" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/436lyzl" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><h1 style="text-align: center;"><u>Read an excerpt from Flawed</u></h1><div><div><br />Shravan Uncle and he were still discussing their plans and action points when they strode into the office together. They came to an abrupt halt when they saw her perched on a tabletop chatting with their intern, Rama. She was swinging one ripped-jean-clad leg as she bent low over his system to look at something on his screen. Rama on the other hand was looking right down her flimsy crop top.</div><div><br /></div><div>“Vaani!” Shravan Uncle’s voice cracked like a whip through the office space. </div><div><br /></div><div>Their entire staff jumped at the same time. So basically, three people were startled. Vaani, Rama and Aditya himself because that was currently their entire staff. </div><div><br /></div><div>“You are here to work,” Shravan Uncle continued his harangue. “Not to distract everybody else and stop them from working.” </div><div><br /></div><div>“Who is this mysterious them?” She made a show of looking all around their empty desks. “I can only see sweet Rama here. And he was showing me how to use your boring accounting software. You should be happy that I am taking initiative, no?”</div><div><br /></div><div>Fear swam through Aditya at the thought of her accessing their software and fiddling with their client’s accounts. </div><div><br /></div><div>“You’re not going to be working on that,” he said, his voice coming out gruff and angry. </div><div><br /></div><div>“Oh?” She stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. “What am I going to be working on then?” </div><div><br /></div><div>His brain froze. What would she work on? He scrambled for something, anything that he could use when Shravan Uncle said, “You can start by keeping the office clean.”</div><div><br /></div><div>Her mouth dropped open in outrage. “Of all the sexist things to say, Appa,” she seethed. “Just because I am a woman, I am in charge of housekeeping, is it?” </div><div><br /></div><div>“No. It’s because you are the only one here who has not sat for any accountancy exams,” her father said bluntly. “Also, you failed math in school.” </div><div><br /></div><div>Aditya cleared his throat, pity clearing out the chaos in his brain. Vaani’s mortification was obvious for everyone to see.</div><div><br /></div><div>“Actually, there is something else you can do,” he said. </div><div><br /></div><div>“Don’t say bring everyone coffee,” she warned. </div><div><br /></div><div>The pity disappeared beneath a swell of irritation. </div><div><br /></div><div>“We just landed a large contract,” he snapped. “We’re going to need new employees. You can find them for us. Consider yourself our very first Human Resources professional.”</div></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><b><u><span style="font-size: x-large;">About the Author:</span></u></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="914" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqKHxpj2OiCHs42YvNAYWjLlUzyJsQNJBDIPMXhr07ojr7y3gu1JeXhXUTqfwG8fg0j3AdPFppna3RWxlJANWVZm2Occ3aDL6cWQpbYaILbi0xBQ4T6d6ai2ChJdoEAYf0JUcifk72YjtTMvGeV723ebo62Vp4fUE3bqCTK2gcQDxCBK9y_DnkKsE/s320/Shilpa%20Suraj.jpeg" width="229" /></a></div>A published author with Harlequin India – Mills & Boon India Collection and Juggernaut, Shilpa Suraj’s books have hit both the Hot New Releases and Bestseller lists on Amazon. Her next novel, tentatively titled ‘Wrong,’ has been contracted by Rupa Publications and will release later this year. She is also part of the Flipped Anthology by Harper Collins and had an audiobook book Insta Reddy release with Storytel.<br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />She is, amongst other things, currently working on ‘Frazzled and Fabulous,’ a humorous, true-to-life parenting story that is part memoir and part nonfiction.<br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />An avid reader with a passion for creative writing and storytelling saw her participating in writing competitions at school and dabbling in copy writing for an ad agency as a teenager. Twenty years in the corporate space, including a stint in Corporate Communications for Google, India, and a spell at entrepreneurship all hold her in good stead for her multiple current roles of author, mother and Head of Human Resources & Public Relations at an architecture and interior design firm.<br /><br /></span></div></span></div><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Contact the Author:<br /></u></b></span></span><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://shilpasuraj.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/shilpasuraj/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/shilpaauthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shilpa.suraj/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> * <a href="http://eepurl.com/dt-Br9" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></span></p><p><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><!-- start InLinkz code -->
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<!-- end InLinkz code -->Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-15765546186231930772023-03-07T00:00:00.003+05:302023-03-07T00:00:00.174+05:30#BookBlitz :: Eden on Earth by Dhaval Sonsoil - #Contemporary #Fiction @DhavalSonsoil<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiszXjoLImrbVxP0lNagxu6uumrAonG9a3tdb30i3grU7uTq52obQmG7-djUQTZ_ty3kCKy60ONkHygim6RythfuB_ZdGeT4vf0OJe3wkRU1hz9pR5fa-PkuXW5iO5sFmkgAJdyNQzSrJw_t1BQVEj4-3FHf3FZNFRIlbX5zFJbp18Mm72SMIGhJ9Hi/s1024/EoE%20Banners.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiszXjoLImrbVxP0lNagxu6uumrAonG9a3tdb30i3grU7uTq52obQmG7-djUQTZ_ty3kCKy60ONkHygim6RythfuB_ZdGeT4vf0OJe3wkRU1hz9pR5fa-PkuXW5iO5sFmkgAJdyNQzSrJw_t1BQVEj4-3FHf3FZNFRIlbX5zFJbp18Mm72SMIGhJ9Hi/s16000/EoE%20Banners.png" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3fjIzviVo2qgUc6T8qVoetOEzE7LAzapwhc_vI5uHuKX_igXk95D2Z8Q8t5cLs0YRrZkKRpbTkBe0HzTjEnLkAMsQS0gHX7OlUOoLQPvK0OuzByfCZsPixQRQpAPNlpG73vTMzex41V-cIdLg8VWwpfEgSvBaqTO9RIyV2r8YauaXmSfD3BS7YLhv/s499/51-geXAYUJL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3fjIzviVo2qgUc6T8qVoetOEzE7LAzapwhc_vI5uHuKX_igXk95D2Z8Q8t5cLs0YRrZkKRpbTkBe0HzTjEnLkAMsQS0gHX7OlUOoLQPvK0OuzByfCZsPixQRQpAPNlpG73vTMzex41V-cIdLg8VWwpfEgSvBaqTO9RIyV2r8YauaXmSfD3BS7YLhv/s320/51-geXAYUJL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><br />After setbacks one after the other at a young age, Dhaval Sonsoil accidentally stumbles upon a glimpse of enlightenment. In his childhood dreams, he sees visions of what he calls the void, the place of nothingness but, conversely, all-knowing. Challenged by a domineering father and pulled by emotions for a young peasant girl he is forbidden to see, Dhaval quickly learns that, enlightened or not, we can't always get what we want. Ever persevering, Dhaval embarks on a quest for illumination in the modern world. But in doing so, he embarks on something much more profound: a search for paradise on Earth with coming-of-age philosophy to celebrate life in every moment for everyone in this majestic world.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Book Links:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/63907144-eden-on-earth" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3yalLn8" target="_blank">Amazon India</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3EWpOYm" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /><br />Read an Excerpt from Eden on Earth<br /></div></div><p></p><div>I always thought enlightenment was no more than a fairy tale. I assumed that to achieve it, one had to grow old in a mountain cave, meditate under a Bodhi tree, or be delirious enough to hear the sound of one hand clapping. Now I have come to realize that it's something much simpler. Enlightenment is just another word for love, true and selfless love that enables people to experience joy in all situations in every moment of their life.<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><div>And yet, love has become a dirty word. Many will tell you it's complicated and messy, that it gets sticky, that it distracts you from purity, that it can be done right, and it can be done wrong. Others will tell you that love is a chemical process in the brain and nothing more. And if you search for it any more profound than that, you'll be waiting for a long like a person waiting to hear the sound of a tree falling in a forest that makes no sound.<br /><br /></div><div>And, yet, if you ask any two random lovers—I'm talking about the true lovers, not the Hollywood or Bollywood version, but two lovers that eat at each other's snot and scent each other’s breath, who want to be in each other's skin, not just be with each other—about enlightenment. They'll tell you they don't care. As far as they're concerned, they've already found the answer, and it's this: all you need is true and selfless love. That kind of love makes lovers feel content to stay with each other in every moment of their life, run through deserts and sail oceans, and climb mountains, because what else is there worth finding? They've experienced what they've been looking for, the joy of living, experiencing the depth of love, the catalyst, the glue that binds all creation from time immemorial, now and forever. <br /><br /><div>If I sound like a guru, I'm not. I was confused not just by love, but by life itself for most of my life. Sure, I read about enlightenment in books and saw it mentioned in films. Sometimes it was called moksha, illumination, and other times an ecstasy pill. Some others called it living joyfully every day without any worries for tomorrow! But either way, it was always something cryptic, an abstract idea people threw about at meditation retreats, seminars, and in ‘spirituality’ or ‘austerity’ or ‘postmodern art’ workshops, but inevitably made at least one person feel uneasy because big words meant significant opinions. <br /><br /></div><div>Would enlightenment mean having an encyclopedia inside your head? Or was it more a case of being able to project the past and the future like a film reel of dinosaurs and nebulas upon the back of one's mind? Or, then again, was it more an aesthetic thing? A glowing halo and a white tunic? Was that all it was? Just an image? A pretense? Or knowing and understanding how to live a joyful life at all times in all circumstances? Is it an idea of something that didn't exist but people clung on to because of sheer fear, fear of being a conscious presence in a universe that is nothing more than a black vacuum of black holes and giant spinning orbs, one of which we found ourselves stuck to, thanks to that miraculous and very convenient force we call gravity?<br /><br /></div><div>But I was never interested in what others wanted to tell me about enlightenment. I wanted to see it for myself. You know, I've always only ever wanted the truth. Absolute, not relative truth. Black coffee, no sugar truth, truth beyond illusion. Release from insanity. Release from chaos. Freedom from daily pain, struggles, and disappointments of life—release from greed for power and wealth. Escape from intolerance, violence, and desires of the world.<br /><br /></div><div>Did I find it? I'll let you be the judge. Because who am I to tell you what you should think anyway? Who am I to tell you what the meaning and purpose of your life are? Too many people in this world are convinced they have theanswers. The world has become too loud, too distorted to hear gentle and absolute truths. I don't think you'll believe what I have to say even if I do tell you. You have to see it for yourself. You have to experience it for yourself! And isn't that the whole idea of the one hand clapping and the tree falling in the forest, making no sound? <br /><br /></div><div>The answer is simple. As soon as you try to explain enlightenment or the joyful living in every situation in every moment of life, you have lost it, just like you try to clap with one hand, but you will not make a sound.<br /><br /></div><div>All I can tell you is my story.</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw2zBe8UPFtHXlaBIk-eGXGn1bAXJHuCusAh3c2qTXZwYh7QdtUu5ttVEdiMLmieUhoh1Qtjgng44hfleovkk6w1MJHZ2hOlAWvP8ellGSm2kk5hNSFyb_RI1vIoDFYSM9anYSFPvbT7YCbv1Pe6SFxiWnIJpwpwzA6BPb2YBI3FJqTa0oRoo90GS7/s1080/Eden-Feb23-01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw2zBe8UPFtHXlaBIk-eGXGn1bAXJHuCusAh3c2qTXZwYh7QdtUu5ttVEdiMLmieUhoh1Qtjgng44hfleovkk6w1MJHZ2hOlAWvP8ellGSm2kk5hNSFyb_RI1vIoDFYSM9anYSFPvbT7YCbv1Pe6SFxiWnIJpwpwzA6BPb2YBI3FJqTa0oRoo90GS7/w400-h400/Eden-Feb23-01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-13788240684713564102023-02-28T00:00:00.028+05:302023-02-28T00:00:00.156+05:30#ReleaseDayBlitz :: Bad Girl Gone Wicked (Bad Girl #3) by Shilpa Suraj - #Contemporary #Romance @shilpaauthor<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2023/02/bad-girl-gone-wicked.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDG1jzXpXi-A-9dxRFMtYzkZridgNKHX9sUN6q6pCw_f_Fd2mSmyHeBHcAllmij4p_ns8fnpTyS3n54WFeEaK9AuffgrKF1pcuJHBIpTO3ta-Tcd9Upq_KprVgpDoI-0E6OmPQN9cEOmkxE4yEeHLDubE5yJJrMNwHaIWVaWlJ_qYtsVuMx6cu0Sfs/s16000/Banners.jpg" /></a></div><br /><h3 style="text-align: center;">Everyone knew that when she stepped up to the crease, she always came out swinging…</h3><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2023/02/bad-girl-gone-wicked.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMroaOB5oXsxtVPTC5J36q0Dn4ZNq0drJasyixAB9ncnEOJj20O2OCl-5h6aJHUNJiBhVjIfsw1dWsP8j1bOfzm5eUWc3nU0GCvi_bR7JXDwciwksGwfZ_rfmRIX2zWVUaVfchv4j_QNWohafms6Un1sCe0DbeKL33zJL4RSL0u0iFHc5yT8xLNaAV/s320/Final-%20Bad%20Girl-Wicked.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><p><b>Tara Wadhwa,</b> Captain of the Indian Women’s Cricket team, was living the dream. She got to play the sport she loved and to live close to her friends, the family of her heart. But when her friends start to fall in love, a sliver of loneliness works its way into her heart pushing her to make a reckless mistake.<br /><b>Nikhil Upadhyay,</b> owner of a pristine reputation and the nation’s best fixer, is called in to save the day. Fix Tara’s reputation and babysit her till she brings home the World Cup. A dream assignment for a man who otherwise spent way too much time cleaning up far messier situations. Until he met his newest client and the dream turned into a nightmare…<br />Can Tara work past her childhood grooming to see that there could be a life beyond the game? Can Nikhil see the value of the girl behind the polished façade he was working on presenting to the world? And will the two of them ever stop fighting long enough to allow their simmering attraction a chance to come out and play?<br /><br />For when the Bad Girl met the Good Boy, she realised, that just this once, she wanted to let her inner ‘wicked’ out to play. And we all know what happens when Tara Wadhwa steps up to the crease…<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/123002921-bad-girl-gone-wicked" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3xRSzS2" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3lXUd1z" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span><br /><br /><br /></p><h1 style="text-align: center;"><u>Reads an Excerpt from Bad Girl Gone Wicked</u></h1><p></p><p><br />She slunk out, her face set in mutinous lines, accepting the plate with her omelette from me. I served myself, deliberately keeping conversation non-existent until a few morsels of egg hit her stomach.<br />I’d just sat down across from her when I saw her wince and massage her temples. A killer hangover, I was sure. Reaching for my laptop bag, I pulled out a strip of over-the-counter painkillers and slipped it to her. <br />She stared at it like I’d handled her a rattlesnake but took it without comment, swallowing a tablet without water. The pain must be truly intense.<br />I picked up my own plate, thinking maybe now would be a good time to discuss my game plan. “So-”<br />“You’re going to die of a heart attack,” she announced. <br />My fork froze halfway to my mouth. “Is that a wish or a prophecy or…?”<br />“You can’t eat like that.” She pointed her own fork at my plate. <br />I glanced down at my fried eggs sunny side up with their sides of mashed potatoes and bacon. I was a relatively calm and amiable sort, but this woman seemed to have only one setting; irritating.<br />“You’re going to die,” she announced again, finally managing to get on even my last nerve. “Don’t eat that.”<br />I should stay calm, I thought, reminding myself of the fat pay packet the hot mess sitting across from me was going to earn me. <br />“Don’t eat that,” she repeated loudly.<br />To hell with it. I picked up a sliver of bacon and popped it in my mouth, holding her irate gaze. Either I’d die of a heart attack, or she’d kill me with a stroke from high blood pressure. So be it. <br />At least I’d go with bacon in my mouth. I made it a point to chew extra hard and extra loudly when it came to the crunchy bits. <br /><br /></p><div><br /></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About the Author:</u></b></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="914" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqKHxpj2OiCHs42YvNAYWjLlUzyJsQNJBDIPMXhr07ojr7y3gu1JeXhXUTqfwG8fg0j3AdPFppna3RWxlJANWVZm2Occ3aDL6cWQpbYaILbi0xBQ4T6d6ai2ChJdoEAYf0JUcifk72YjtTMvGeV723ebo62Vp4fUE3bqCTK2gcQDxCBK9y_DnkKsE/s320/Shilpa%20Suraj.jpeg" width="229" /></a></div>A published author with Harlequin India – Mills & Boon India Collection and Juggernaut, Shilpa Suraj’s books have hit both the Hot New Releases and Bestseller lists on Amazon. Her next novel, tentatively titled ‘Wrong,’ has been contracted by Rupa Publications and will release later this year. She is also part of the Flipped Anthology by Harper Collins and had an audiobook book Insta Reddy release with Storytel.<br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />She is, amongst other things, currently working on ‘Frazzled and Fabulous,’ a humorous, true-to-life parenting story that is part memoir and part nonfiction.<br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />An avid reader with a passion for creative writing and storytelling saw her participating in writing competitions at school and dabbling in copy writing for an ad agency as a teenager. Twenty years in the corporate space, including a stint in Corporate Communications for Google, India, and a spell at entrepreneurship all hold her in good stead for her multiple current roles of author, mother and Head of Human Resources & Public Relations at an architecture and interior design firm.<br /><br /></span></div></span></div><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Contact the Author:<br /></u></b></span></span><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://shilpasuraj.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/shilpasuraj/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/shilpaauthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shilpa.suraj/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> * <a href="http://eepurl.com/dt-Br9" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></span></p><p><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-49393890078143018332023-02-19T00:00:00.008+05:302023-02-19T11:57:48.679+05:30#BlogTour :: The American Outsider by Homa Pourasgari #WomensFiction #TheAmericanOutsider @HomaPourasgari<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2023/02/the-american-outsider.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxq_DIFZCyJIjZGghHWfV_FrGPV-YHO8ZmHOObDVnvF7krFefC8bMT6oYG6dPcSqIuZgFMFOWaYSEuW5GWOPUv6Rc4pg3OKmw9SNmXqyoEmkzKoyFwNY6UjoY6TDuMo3Jb2Wplxvk4DcRNIMJwffXK1Fcma1yU1UxKhPBn-xN_MlQDOGqHtCHtPINX/s16000/Book%20Tour.png" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2023/02/bookblitz-american-outsider.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSSmN0exnzFH3l4GdwSfYUnW1hpiHRm4_99iWwlyYi4W0pkBXOCTIImuvXXzSOv3cmL-eS4HJH9rPi0FEDjbryK3JjuKRmHhqg5zEAKAPv--WoM2Fim2yFjgS4-qru30yjed3UIw-1gooZsV-l2sY7A81Ec9y7Kj-QJDoQsdAQw31X4VJYjo-PRdHN/s320/eBookCover.jpg" width="200" /></a></div></div><p><br />When a California veterinarian, a Japanese-American tour-guide and the son of a well-known Tokyoite businessman get together to help save the Taiji dolphins, trouble brews in a society where conformity is favored over individuality. Tessa Walker sticks out in Japan’s homogeneous society. Akira Nakano has to tread lightly if she wants to keep her job as a tour guide. And Toshiro Yokoyama needs to find a way to distance himself from his family in order to find himself. As the three join a demonstration to protest the slaughter of dolphins, the wealthy owner of global aquariums is alarmed and is determined to stop them. But Tessa and Akira are resolved to push forward and help protect these cetaceans from brutal slaughter, and Toshiro is determined to help them in order to escape his humdrum life. </p><div><br /></div><p><br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/361569.Homa_Pourasgari" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3YAPW2o" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3HWpjhm" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span><br /><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u>Read an Excerpt from The American Outsider</u></span></h2><p></p><p>Tessa took a slow deep breath, got up off the bathroom floor and made her way to the kitchen. She thought back to that August day a few weeks earlier when she had told her father that she was going to Japan.</p><p>“Why Taiji?” her father had asked her when he found out that Tessa was planning to go to Tokyo, Kyoto, Taiji, and Osaka for two weeks in September. </p><p>Tessa was seated on the patio of her parents’ four-bedroom house off of Montana Avenue, an upscale neighborhood in West L.A. She sipped on her lemonade as turmoil brewed inside her. </p><p>“I mean, we have plenty of animal abuse in our own home country,” Jeff shrugged. At seventy-four, he was a successful real-estate broker with a muscular body and a buzz cut. He didn’t like the idea of meddling in other countries’ affairs even though when he served in Vietnam, he followed orders without asking questions. He was eventually discharged due to his symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. Years later, he realized that he was unhappy about some of the decisions his superiors had made. </p><p>Tessa stared at him in disbelief and blurted, “I like dolphins. There are many causes in the world, and I chose this one. It’s not possible to stand up for everything if you want to make a change. But if you chose one thing and see it through, then you have stood up for something.”<br /><br /></p><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About the Author:</u></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="303" data-original-width="193" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUH4H-mFvPU3bzEYwGzhCJrE_3-GQY-omiuZPbNpRkMBC8t4Qyb7WSRCUoEV6G-oOeipJCTTutYDnSun1tVzK7N9xQgKX4NjgUOhfrXMdS8-_MKDzSY63n0kRJUPoLKMbFJcCrun0-dc3s6zChXCAgftjJ0eMQJdupmmIQs081yM1Pqw7zbwOqHVH9/w127-h200/3.jpg" width="127" /></a></div><div><b>Homa Pourasgari</b> spent hours in her father’s home office, writing, reading and letting her imagination carry her to unseen worlds. She moved to Los Angeles, California, at a young age. After graduating from Loyola Marymount University with a degree in business, she went to Paris for a year to study literature at the Sorbonne. Before becoming a full-time writer, she ran her own boutique, worked at a bank and a CPA firm, was a personal trainer and even taught spinning and cardio kickboxing. When she is not writing, she is stumbling, miming and pointing to find her way in a foreign country. Her latest novel, The American Outsider, is based on her travels in Japan.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Homa on the Web:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.homapourasgari.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100088472221231" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/homapourasgari" target="_blank">Twitter</a> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></b></span></div>
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<!-- end InLinkz code -->Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-65716330014631931842023-02-13T00:00:00.009+05:302023-02-13T12:03:08.653+05:30#BookBlitz :: The American Outsider by Homa Pourasgari #ContemporaryFiction #Adventure @HomaPourasgari<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2023/02/bookblitz-american-outsider.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFdwfnSHLAp4xTCuUPk1WqwI9WTQaRH7sImm_wY1YDZufeBxHkOZxPCRY4MiyrvdXgoflCNOfCBilb1uh4zpAvaXS8ejGiPITdsF84DV0AUXcgtSc_N640UtC2bTG9Ml9BcHIar_9yZqlY4u1Tp6yvdMEM_J1AqaqBTf0E-W61ViXFK0yhTnVK7sg7/s16000/Book%20Blitz.png" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><h4><span style="color: black;">"A charming read with characters who come to life on the page—and who live for a cause whose urgency shines through the story." – Booklife Review</span></h4><span style="color: black;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2023/02/bookblitz-american-outsider.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSSmN0exnzFH3l4GdwSfYUnW1hpiHRm4_99iWwlyYi4W0pkBXOCTIImuvXXzSOv3cmL-eS4HJH9rPi0FEDjbryK3JjuKRmHhqg5zEAKAPv--WoM2Fim2yFjgS4-qru30yjed3UIw-1gooZsV-l2sY7A81Ec9y7Kj-QJDoQsdAQw31X4VJYjo-PRdHN/s320/eBookCover.jpg" width="200" /></a></div></div><p>Tessa Walker is a veterinarian with a strong, emotional connection to animals. As a teen, she witnessed the brutal slaughter of dolphins, and as an adult, she decides to do something about it. She leaves her home in Los Angeles and travels to Japan to speak out for them, but little does she know that she is embarking on an adventure that will change her life forever. From the urban metropolis of Tokyo to the historic Kyoto to the culinary city of Osaka, and the seaside town of Taiji, Tessa is determined to help Japanese activists stand up for her beloved mammals.</p><p>Along the way, the friendships and bonds that she builds with people in Japan, and the unconditional love of a stranger named Toshiro, open her eyes to a complicated society of conventions and traditions. Yet, her limited knowledge of the language and customs doesn't deter her from taking on a dangerous mission that could land her in jail.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/361569.Homa_Pourasgari" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3YAPW2o" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3HWpjhm" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span><br /><br /><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u>Read an Excerpt from The American Outsider</u></span></h2><p></p><p>At the Japanese garden, Tessa watched butterflies drink the nectar of flowers. She fed the fish in the koi pond and stood on a bridge to take several shots of the picturesque scenery. Less shaken, she headed to the French garden she had heard so much about and began sauntering down a sycamore-lined path. She sat on a bench and pulled out her beautifully wrapped bento box, chopsticks, and jasmine tea. Inside, the box cradled an artistically arranged mini-feast of multigrain rice, white rice, marinated tofu, and colorful vegetables. It almost looked much too pretty to eat. As she enjoyed her meal and drank her fragrant tea, Tessa took in her surroundings. A mother pushed a toddler in a stroller and carried her younger child in a strap wrapped around her. An elderly man sat at a bench and sketched the landscape. Two trendy-looking girls wearing miniskirts and hats chatted and sniggered. A group of middle-aged women used fanciful umbrellas to keep the sun from aging their flawless complexions. Showing off one’s legs by wearing miniskirts was common in Japan, but showing one’s shoulders and cleavage was taboo. Wearing hats and using umbrellas was favored because having a fair complexion was important and desirable for many Japanese women. Tessa, on the other hand, loved the sun and a good tan. Funny, how everyone’s perspective is so different, she thought. When she finished eating, Tessa placed her trash in a plastic bag and put it in her handbag. In Japan, it was rare to see public trash cans. People carried around small plastic bags to put their trash in until they could discard it at home. To outsiders, Japan’s trash etiquette is complex and one of the reasons why landlords do not like to rent apartments to foreigners. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="303" data-original-width="193" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUH4H-mFvPU3bzEYwGzhCJrE_3-GQY-omiuZPbNpRkMBC8t4Qyb7WSRCUoEV6G-oOeipJCTTutYDnSun1tVzK7N9xQgKX4NjgUOhfrXMdS8-_MKDzSY63n0kRJUPoLKMbFJcCrun0-dc3s6zChXCAgftjJ0eMQJdupmmIQs081yM1Pqw7zbwOqHVH9/w127-h200/3.jpg" width="127" /></a></div><div><b>Homa Pourasgari</b> spent hours in her father’s home office, writing, reading and letting her imagination carry her to unseen worlds. She moved to Los Angeles, California, at a young age. After graduating from Loyola Marymount University with a degree in business, she went to Paris for a year to study literature at the Sorbonne. Before becoming a full-time writer, she ran her own boutique, worked at a bank and a CPA firm, was a personal trainer and even taught spinning and cardio kickboxing. When she is not writing, she is stumbling, miming and pointing to find her way in a foreign country. Her latest novel, The American Outsider, is based on her travels in Japan.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Homa on the Web:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.homapourasgari.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100088472221231" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/homapourasgari" target="_blank">Twitter</a> </b></span></div><p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><!-- start InLinkz code -->
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<!-- end InLinkz code -->Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-66468505379203365942023-01-30T00:00:00.011+05:302023-01-30T00:00:00.159+05:30#ReleaseDayBlitz :: Good Girl Gone Rogue by Andaleeb Wajid - #Contemporary #EnemiesToLovers @andaleebwajid<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2023/01/good-girl-gone-rogue-by-andaleeb-wajid.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyA5tfHHTgNAA8p557UuyiY7u3_j-Cta3uT0o3Dhd2Hbnpm03V9xIZMBUl5m9t9iLfYzaTxowFJOUH1yy_5QYY8DNea7fW3ycrlEMwmWwvY6opD8t3NDvVqlltL1TsToit9na-NyoHloTan05aYmT-6Fx8Gvvfr_wPWvqVS-KAGw0YoyNaU9xyd0cU/s16000/Rogue%20Banners.png" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2023/01/good-girl-gone-rogue-by-andaleeb-wajid.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikEBg4_JYQUloXeVY1gbVZmxBflRSNBB9AhJINKV7en0ZkOIsW37BwXBFKANZnZlNrVfEWt9yzA7ve9p-zTeDISNfX1GE2JmwDl2BOmAXzw08k4a-Jpyfwy9P9w9r3OC6UJsidALL-RrdieuIu3QGNiRJY6AqRp89DMgRnu1iAxGn8PIpruCYEpGQJ/s320/Final-%20Bad%20girl-%20Rogue.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><p>When Inaya Khan is told she’s meeting a boy for marriage, the last thing she expects is for beetroot juice to play spoilsport. As CEO of Ixora Skincare, Inaya has achieved money, fame and power all at the age of twenty-seven. But to her mother, the only labels that apply to her are overweight and unmarried. <br /><br />A CEO himself, but of a struggling startup, Ayaz Ahmed has no time or energy to even think of marriage. Until his mother shows him Inaya’s picture and he’s instantly smitten. Despite a disastrous start that included beetroot juice spewage, multiple suitors for Inaya’s hand and judgy onlookers, Inaya and Ayaz are instinctively drawn to each other. <br /><br />Until Ayaz finds out that his company is being taken over by none other than his prospective bride-to-be. Ayaz may be smitten but he isn’t stupid. And he most certainly isn’t letting Inaya take his precious company from him. <br /><br /><i>Can love find a way to survive in the heart of business deals, mergers and acquisitions? Or will this bad girl have to go rogue to bring her own ‘Ranveer Singh’ home? </i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u><b>Book Links:</b></u></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/82432097-bad-girl-gone-rogue" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3WG5fW4" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3Dm76bw" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u>Read an Excerpt from Bad Girl Gone Rogue</u></span></h1><p>Keeping my face as blank as possible, I sat down and tried my best not to sit too close to him. He sat down as well, a smile on his face, looking sheepish because my mother and his family were looking at us keenly.<br /><br />‘Sameena, there’s someone I wanted you to meet,’ Ammi said to his mother and taking the hint, both his parents got up and walked away with Ammi, leaving the two of us alone at the table. We weren’t alone per se, because there were so many people around but I still felt my stomach tie up in knots.<br /><br />Whenever I was in Bangalore, a part of me forgot that I was the CEO of a successful company and not just my parents’ daughter. I had spoken to thousands of men probably, men who worked for me, men whom I had interviewed for jobs at my company, vendors and marketers, and other CEOs. But here, all that was swept away as I became Naseem and Aftab Khan’s younger daughter. Their younger unmarried daughter.<br /><br />Straightening my back, I turned to him, really hoping there wouldn’t be another disaster like the one that had nearly ruined my dress. I briefly wondered where Ayaz was. Maybe he’d been embarrassed enough to leave.<br /><br />I put him out of my mind and turned to the man I was sitting with. He looked at me appraisingly, his eyes resting on my shoulders and then glancing down my bare arms. Women were wearing short, strapless dresses here at the party. This was nothing compared to that. I gritted my teeth, thinking that if he was going to shame me for my outfit, I was going to throw this…this…I picked up the glass of juice on the table and sniffed it slightly and then nearly gagged. It was beetroot juice.</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About the Author:</u></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1202" data-original-width="1800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYDyNOczrBCawSfHSqtUP6hnpKgl-qjwsr0gzWLcmV5gKo5SCrAEuw8MF0Oz-XMYFFF8dopwYUirpIb_PVkdwRVDKiI-PD6jvORyQOiFY_ZuFkih1XsWidRyCeCcXMTeCmLtJqRq1HncI/s320/Andaleeb+Wajid+Author+Pic.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p><b>Andaleeb Wajid</b> is a hybrid author, having published 40 novels in the past 14 years. Andaleeb enjoys writing in a number of different genres such as young adult, romance, and horror. Andaleeb's recent novels All Drama No Queen and Mirror, Mirror were published by Penguin Random House and Duckbill respectively in 2021. Andaleeb's romance trilogy Jasmine Villa Series is being published by Westland in February 2023. She has an upcoming YA horror novel with Harper Collins later in 2023.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Andaleeb on the Web:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/AndaleebWajid/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/andaleebwajid" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/andaleebwajid/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> * <a href="https://andaleebwajid.substack.com/" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></b></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-6012384697266134052023-01-12T00:30:00.001+05:302023-01-12T00:30:00.184+05:30#NewRelease :: Once Upon a Kiss (Il Cuore #4) by Shilpa Suraj - #Contemporary #Romance #KaramAndShikha @shilpaauthor<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2023/01/newrelease-once-upon-kiss-il-cuore-4-by.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiifPUPMnYeh2AGusaVj3QfhiLWcGPFUag561rzpdnKlol8PK5O_BSHmPRKOtIStcikJNzIT_BRAfl43Qg0MdK0VETb3dOVA6RbNbh3RiK1f3YHohYKjwqmGqRAg6-ib_AjZQojvJmvfypEFhRx-gbHu5-nqoZ2BKd0poAYkEikJFmFidifhRuiCtAw/s16000/Once%20Upon%20a%20Kiss%20Banners.png" /></a></div><br /><h3 style="text-align: center;"> “Kissing you means I’m beyond redemption.”</h3><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHWqZLEOUGUFk9GQ5iIa0F3ue5_m9yOQnr-WAFTJicMV0sSu8CxBZrxAnGIR2ZK6gocZUY2H19lpB5sNdlxYpLtoxnEFh1dW1HJREXyaZO8ywZE5tUxvGvigP2vLr5KKTAcRC8cR9tHRusgplyRquj7EzqXGkhiCHWzUPBJBfS75Qg9S61TzaR-sa/s320/Final-%20Once%20upon%20a%20kiss.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div>Orphaned at a young age, scraping together a life below the poverty line, Karam Bakshi has only ever wanted one thing. Success. With unrelenting focus and backbreaking effort, he has carved out the life of his dreams. And then he saw her and forgot that he had goals or a plan or even something as basic as ideas.<br /><br /></div><div>Shikha Sachdev, only daughter to a mining magnate and jilted fiancée to one of the most powerful men in the country, has never wanted for anything. And then she met him and realised that until that moment, she never had wanted anything. Not like she wanted him.<br /><br /></div><div>When passion collides with reason, when the heart goes to war with the brain, and old scabs rip open under the onslaught of new wounds, there is nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, and only one option left; gamble with everything you’ve got. Win and reach for a lifetime of happiness or lose and you lose everything, including your very sense of self.<br /><br /></div><div>Can Karam and Shikha ever find common ground? Or are they destined to orbit each other like the most tortured star-crossed lovers of eternity?<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/75706534-once-upon-a-kiss" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3GPfCRB" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3GrnkB7" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span><br /><br /><br /><h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u>Read an Excerpt from Once Upon a Kiss</u></span></h1><br /><div>Karam stiffened at the sweet voice and the even sweeter sentiment it oozed. He didn’t do sweet. He turned slowly to face her. </div><div><br /></div><div>“Slumming again, Princess?”</div><div><br /></div><div>Anger flared on those perfect features, but she composed herself a second later. You had to admire that level of control. She would have made the perfect politician’s wife. Kanak, on the other hand…a reluctant laugh huffed out of him. </div><div><br /></div><div>“Why are you like this?” she asked now, her tone bored but her eyes alive with something he recognised all too well. The same emotion thrummed through his veins, heating his blood and kickstarting his heart. </div><div><br /></div><div>He took a sip from his flask, a deliberately long one. He wanted to smack his lips, the gesture as pointed as it was obscene, when she stepped closer to him.</div><div><br /></div><div>“You didn’t reply to my last message.” The soft words only stoked the heat.</div><div><br /></div><div>“Didn’t have time.” The words were a low snarl in response. </div><div><br /></div><div>She cocked her head, those pretty hazel eyes seeing right through him and to the lonely, angry, always hungry boy he’d been and apparently, never outgrown. The boy who’d longed for a better life, for a full stomach, for a night without being whipped or beaten, for an affectionate touch, for someone, anyone really, to love him. </div><div><br /></div><div>A boy who’d thought he’d deserved better. A boy who’d wanted something pretty, something special in his life. A boy who’d dirtied and ruined everything he’d held in his hands. Including this woman.</div><div><br /></div><div>He’d kissed her. And she’d lost everything. Her rich, powerful fiancé had ended their engagement, her family had shunned her, humiliated by her actions and her business had lost investors. Apparently, they’d been backing the woman who was going to marry Aakash Thakkar. Not someone who’d kiss an alley rat like him. </div><div><br /></div><div>“Go inside,” he told her softly.</div><div><br /></div><div>But when did she ever listen to him?</div><div><br /></div><div>“No,” she said, equally softly, stepping forward and into his space. </div><div><br /></div><div>“You really need to find a rich, pretty boy to practice this shit with, Princess.” The words were hoarse, his chest starting to heave. </div><div><br /></div><div>“But I don’t want to,” she murmured, her fingers pushing the hair back from his forehead, running through the strands. She gripped the back of his neck, the contact feeling like a brand on his skin.</div><div><br /></div><div>“What do you want?” His hand fisted around his flask even as the other one gripped her hip, the skin soft and satiny under his callused palm. Her saree pallu whispered down one shoulder and slipped to the ground but neither of them noticed, their eyes only on each other.</div><div><br /></div><div>“What. Do. You. Want?” The words were dragged from him. </div><div><br /></div><div>“You, Karam. Always you.” </div><div><br /></div><div>This time when she kissed him, he didn’t just go up in flames. He swore he’d burn the world down for a chance to do this again. And again.</div><br /><p><b style="font-size: xx-large;"><u><span style="font-family: inherit;">About the Author:</span></u></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="914" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqKHxpj2OiCHs42YvNAYWjLlUzyJsQNJBDIPMXhr07ojr7y3gu1JeXhXUTqfwG8fg0j3AdPFppna3RWxlJANWVZm2Occ3aDL6cWQpbYaILbi0xBQ4T6d6ai2ChJdoEAYf0JUcifk72YjtTMvGeV723ebo62Vp4fUE3bqCTK2gcQDxCBK9y_DnkKsE/s320/Shilpa%20Suraj.jpeg" width="229" /></a></div>A published author with Harlequin India – Mills & Boon India Collection and Juggernaut, Shilpa Suraj’s books have hit both the Hot New Releases and Bestseller lists on Amazon. Her next novel, tentatively titled ‘Wrong,’ has been contracted by Rupa Publications and will release later this year. She is also part of the Flipped Anthology by Harper Collins and had an audiobook book Insta Reddy release with Storytel.<br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />She is, amongst other things, currently working on ‘Frazzled and Fabulous,’ a humorous, true-to-life parenting story that is part memoir and part nonfiction.<br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />An avid reader with a passion for creative writing and storytelling saw her participating in writing competitions at school and dabbling in copy writing for an ad agency as a teenager. Twenty years in the corporate space, including a stint in Corporate Communications for Google, India, and a spell at entrepreneurship all hold her in good stead for her multiple current roles of author, mother and Head of Human Resources & Public Relations at an architecture and interior design firm.</span></div></span></div><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Contact the Author:<br /></u></b></span></span><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://shilpasuraj.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/shilpasuraj/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/shilpaauthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shilpa.suraj/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> * <a href="http://eepurl.com/dt-Br9" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></span></p><p><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-8834059155010785202022-12-26T00:00:00.028+05:302022-12-26T00:00:00.177+05:30#BookBlitz :: Wrong by Shilpa Suraj - #Contemporary @shilpaauthor @Rupa_Books <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/12/bookblitz-wrong-by-shilpa-suraj.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPmLfZCvBuMcA08GblaBiL6xkIebXLzsz-yTOIMdyWYa_Y2WXwz85rP6ABr9nS83-Q5CkomFO_kqSeBR5Yqvoux4dPpw5kCaUI6TY-GIo-NCjSaG6rs3AT4MCdeydDMJdcfrX1WUFDSYZcpfgTsNy4NxVeLmElLb5KEFNj2j0bGLxwAmQvYIgdDzGi/s16000/Banners.png" /></a></div><br /><h3 style="text-align: center;">One wrong choice on the eve of her wedding has left Ananya married to one brother and in love with THE OTHER…</h3><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/12/bookblitz-wrong-by-shilpa-suraj.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="559" data-original-width="364" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhReeGoPZE2LCfrbrsfravfWSM44aYhbYsQWfyepaGzMkWi5LOQrNmSp2uJ0fcXqmffvGKpYsCx5pHdHgabm6G-lEerof8FcIonN3FuGFpskOH0w5fYl01FxHL7ovmuN7A_jCkOn8mszhubyClbQxOwOtLBuym6Sk5XLYX6-S3s1qMxCzvbKp4Q1X0X/s320/Wrong.png" width="208" /></a></div><div>Ananya Saxena is the good girl who has always done the right thing. She is a dutiful wife, faithful daughter-in-law, fierce champion of the law. Except, in her heart was another phrase—reckless lover. An impossible choice for a good Indian girl. Duty had Ananya marry her best friend only to end up with a bitter, vengeful husband. Arvin Saxena is now a cripple, both physically and emotionally, after his wife’s confession the day before they were to be married. So, Arvin’s never-ending pain finds release only in hurting her. What he doesn’t know is that her secret sin was loving Arnav Saxena.</div><div><br /></div><div>Arnav turned his back on all of them when she discarded him and married his younger brother.</div><div>When he is forced to return, it sets Ananya on a collision course with fate and she chooses desire over duty to embark on an affair with Arnav. For a brief glorious time, they have it all.</div><div><br /></div><div>But soon, Ananya is faced with yet another life-changing decision when adultery, bankruptcy and a web of lies bring her to a crossroads. The dutiful wife or the defiant lover... who does she choose to be? And does she really even have a choice?<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/63934499-wrong" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3PCwSND" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3Fz1bQO" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><h1 style="text-align: center;"><u>Read an Excerpt from Wrong</u></h1><br /><div>There was a special place in hell for men who were in love with another man’s wife. Arnav contemplated the fifteen-year-old scotch in the crystal glass in front of him. It helped fan the</div><div>flames of the hellfire in his gut. It didn’t stop his gaze from being drawn to the back of her dress. The outfit shimmered like silver smoke over her lithe body. He could see her husband’s hand resting possessively on her exposed back, a thumb gently gliding over her creamy, unblemished skin.<br /><br />He clenched his glass and gulped down almost half of its contents, savouring the burning trail it left inside him. It did nothing for the guilt that was his constant companion, but it numbed the pain that clawed through him, be it only for a moment.<br /><br />She laughed. It was a tinkling burst of sound that cut through the quiet murmur of the sophisticated, high society crowd that had gathered for the charity event. A few tendrils of her hair escaped the complicated hairdo her glorious waist-length mane was caught up in and flirted with the</div><div>nape of her neck.<br /><br />Cursing, he pushed back from the table. He needed a smoke and he didn’t care if the world thought it was rude of him to walk out right now. As he made his way through the throng, a part of him registered the way she leaned against her husband and murmured something into his ear. Turning towards her, he</div><div>gave her an indulgent smile that spoke volumes about their relationship.<br /><br /></div><div>Oh yes, there was a special place in hell for men who loved another man’s wife. He breathed, crawled and existed in that abyss, for he didn’t just love another man’s wife, he loved his brother’s wife. Amidst the scum that grew in the filthy gutter of the deepest, darkest bowels of hell, he was the slime you scraped off the bottom of your shoe. He lived and breathed guilt, remorse and gut-searing pain. She was his friend, his passion, his endless torment, his curse. And yet, he loved her.<br /><br /><br /><p><b style="font-size: xx-large;"><u><span style="font-family: inherit;">About the Author:</span></u></b></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZsqPboVWvYQ2ECtbQpwNOY94rQahKP1Zr9xNxMrjazqen-8PnT67LHpMvpc4BLZGvJLEaVslU3IBcANA02rMhoEbBjGpz4zmd-1IccEtS3SU4q6z1dVccFwi5BBPZ2cYnuBots5N44e-3lwvHXBSsRQTNwcUuQEWTOkcPp_U31JF12FpE-K8wUT53/w200-h200/Shilpa.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><br />Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />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.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Contact the Author:<br /></u></b></span></span><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://shilpasuraj.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/shilpasuraj/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/shilpaauthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shilpa.suraj/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> * <a href="http://eepurl.com/dt-Br9" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div></div>Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-953001788399446312022-12-23T00:00:00.003+05:302022-12-23T00:00:00.173+05:30TRINOYONI: The Slaughterer of Sonagachi Moitrayee Bhaduri - #Thriller #SerialKiller #BasedOnTrueCrime @moits04<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/12/trinoyoni.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLxdv14qwTReWGQVgojMgCdqa0cvQ_H3oUv4VOhJHGEbHfYdtnnqF6iCpQLdOx4FmHOJyH4_Ouu1bWvgR88hzWus_Gu30sP3PNo7NZDmJWcxRSfM6I9YImuZHUP7RQVKftu6yXRtLb5oWuaN4BRMASgHJYq3Qp5w7F0ll9TlQsEEfaC76Zf0khQ_8M/s16000/Trinoyoni%20Banner.png" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="325" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPeT6OtSdMtesvm3cSR7yewvCmJO35vYszkToSKhbbRiiFzD7-D5GF2r1mYxwyfQSGYT0H_toXhMoXMa62-KdaAs6etYLgqm1IL5o72RcS-77Bz8hfLRAYHf4P33Hbo8fBVMV3OYwuU6ax2WQQGzRXF67yPNwLnXcoIYlqyVydlOs3EdcYdv3YH4H/s320/Cover.jpeg" width="208" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">‘Someone is stalking the streets of Sonagachi.’<br />It’s the 1870s, and Calcutta is bustling with commerce and colonialism. A sea of changes has been ushered in by the relatively new British Raj, which has led to migrants from all over India filling up the city with their hopes and dreams.<br />Amongst these struggling masses is a serial killer on the prowl. Corpses of sex-workers start turning up at ponds and in the by-lanes of Sonagachi, Calcutta’s famed pleasure district, choked to death and stripped of all their ornaments. Fear has gripped the city and the nascent police department seems to be chasing shadows.<br />This is the story of Trinoyoni Debi: a sensuous seductress with a silver tongue and a love for all things shiny. But behind those eager eyes lurks a savagery that has made Trinoyoni the stuff of legends. How could such a breath-taking beauty be so terrifying? How many more will she kill before she is satiated? And is there anyone who can stop her? Follow her life as she transforms from a child widow to a famed courtesan and merciless murderer, becoming India’s first-ever serial killer.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><u><span style="font-size: x-large;">Book Links:</span></u></b><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/63333505-trinoyoni" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3BFSmn0" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3FUKQqV" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span><br /><br /></span></p><h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Read an Excerpt from Trinoyoni</u></span></h1><p></p><h4 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Early Life</span></h4><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">On a scorching summer noon in 1853, a tired Priyogopal Sanyal entered Purnendu Shekhar Chattopadhyay’s house, wearing an irritated look. The 50-year-old Sanyal had travelled a long distance and could barely sit straight. His drowsy eyes and half-broken walking stick made him look much older than his age. He was chewing on a betel leaf and behaving rudely with his hosts. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">People crowded around the house, inquisitive to learn about the man who would be marrying the prettiest girl in the village. Trina managed to catch a glimpse of the man and felt disgusted. She was appalled and couldn’t understand why God had chosen this tragic destiny for her.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">‘Jamai babu was bedridden for two years because of a life-threatening disease,’ Trina overheard her neighbour saying.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">‘Even in his bedridden state, he married four girls and rescued them,’ Priyogopal Sanyal’s friend, who had accompanied him, informed Purnendu.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">With folded hands and a lowered head, Purnendu Chattopadhyay said, ‘Our daughter is very sensible and compromising. She excels at all household chores. She will not give you any reason to complain. I am grateful to Sanyal babu for rescuing her and agreeing to marry her.’ </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tears trickled down Trina’s eyes as she saw her father begging Sanyal. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">‘Priyo babu has rescued ten other girls too. But your daughter is much older than his other wives,’ Sanyal’s friend remarked scornfully. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Purnendu looked at the groom apologetically and pleaded, ‘I am an unfortunate father, burdened with the liability of an unmarried daughter. But as a Kulin Brahmin, I couldn’t commit a sin by marrying her off to a non-Kulin gentleman! Please forgive me.’ </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Priyogopal Sanyal looked at Purnendu and nodded dismissively. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sanyal’s friend added, ‘Priyo babu will accept the dowry and marry your daughter tomorrow. He will leave for East Bengal soon after to see his newborn son. Your daughter can continue living with you for now. You can complete the remaining rituals during his next visit.’ </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Purnendu nodded with folded hands and said, ‘We are truly blessed to have found him.’ </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About the Author:</u></b></span><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="933" data-original-width="672" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf0gnGnrFbnMg5-at0Wco5dM3FLpG8w465bNBrnEYmbGdO9kf_ppalldYPxtpWVVHchHmTaU_-d31hw-yT9uhy2GuHvST-RIBiowifwnzg2JWYCivYaDj3Hi-GcQkzfpS0H73NaCM_-K-8TwKbuJTlk870f227RpEud-BVoU3CQYJpnDbF0dEFrqT1/s320/Moitrayee.jpeg" width="230" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Moitrayee Bhaduri is an author, screenwriter, and content specialist. Her first book, The Sinister Silence (Srishti Publishers, 2015), is an edge-of-the-seat murder mystery that introduced the feisty private detective Mili Ray. Her second book Who Killed the Murderer? (TreeShade Books, 2019) is a fast-paced psychological thriller that revolves around the murder of a TV actress in a beauty parlour.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Moitrayee also writes screenplays for TV and freelances with IT firms as a content consultant. Before switching to a full-time writing career, she worked with organizations like IBM, Deloitte, and Oracle, among others, in various writing and people-managerial roles, for 15 years. An alumna of Loreto College and Jadavpur University, Moitrayee also has a certificate in Creative Writing from the University of Oxford.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Moitrayee enjoys conducting writing workshops for children and adults, encouraging them to cultivate a habit of reading. She is passionate about music, enjoys reviewing books and films, and loves dogs. Currently, she lives in Kolkata.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Contact the Author:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://itsmyworld-moitrayee.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/moits04" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/moits04" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/moits04/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> * <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/dashboard" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> </b></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div>Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-38211081041354379402022-12-20T00:00:00.007+05:302022-12-20T13:47:35.634+05:30#NewRelease :: Bad Girl Gone Good by Alisha Kay - #SecondChanceRomance #Contemporary @AlishaKayAuthor<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/12/bad-girl-gone-good-by-alisha-kay.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyxJeUPOtmLsU0WPgvJqKJD15-7l93-FKyVdDHV6T5h6l7Vk6bQ_tecV9CwvXpcZBfMD-RtDe1psTwd_HRdrxEb16CqRqzahueh8UhjVqtwMM2K-xMmwdQqFyXFPS2V02Rl-AH7IpGWg-TPaUr3lqYzmQjg5p9W6swxNh6QY5BYlxijZGGnkpJDNQt/s16000/33.png" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_K9dgq4gGe4hca6S9iEmhbkd-WTTYlUDLRMDRxanTIa79ZcVaUCxWJ9NnKOwHGRHO602lUGLOfzDbFEAf7g5kgjIVKgArl8EfswmR613ZQ1DofPMB_Tl0XYdta_mQ09iHkrtT0ITYJ2ZtwVATlgS05KNrCf6XLso1BmTDVTWJkVkUdxlyiPf5KHG0/s320/Final-Bad%20Girl-Good.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div>When Aisha Rajput, the queen of raves and celebrity after-parties, is asked to plan a hospital fundraiser, she's convinced the sun finally rose from the west. And yet, she is determined to blow this brief out of the water for it is her one chance at redemption.<br /><br /></div><div>Seven years ago, she shattered Dr Kabir Pradhan's heart with a deliberate, conscious act of betrayal. The least she can do to make up for it is to save his hospital.</div><div><br /></div><div>Aisha is the woman who loved him and broke him. The last thing Kabir needs is for her to do it all over again with his hospital. He doesn't want her, he doesn't need her, and he certainly won't tolerate her. Or so he tells himself.</div><div><br /></div><div>When the hospital board leaves them with no choice but to work together, the stage is set for fireworks.</div><div><br /></div><div>When the heartache of the past collides with the irresistible desire of the present, the future looks to be in jeopardy. Unless the Bad Girl goes Good and saves the day.</div><div>But can she?</div><div>And does Kabir even want her to, for like it or not, his heart has always belonged to the Bad Girl, hasn't it?</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/69175472-bad-girl-gone-good" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3Pyh3re" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3WgMB7k" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span></div><div><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/12/bad-girl-gone-good-by-alisha-kay.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK3XeGCbo5kF4QqFOP_2CaUgPUNh90en8EyOmEzSvDmgWuXKHI90J6X7SkJn1-HLVIR_UCjg5ybaVbAKDKqnim_3_E058rd7nFNxEx0HZdTM5vgJE9HN3flP26VDG8_vJuNYV17ptJOx82JhyvDmPiswMB7LBVX7QUBmku6xA6H9rq05dZQG-cM9WH/w400-h400/8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><h1 style="text-align: center;"><u>Read an Excerpt from Bad Girl Gone Good</u></h1><div><br /></div><div><div>KABIR<br /><br /></div><div>The Rajmata of Bannor looked positively hunted as she stared at me.<br />“She said she’s on her way, beta. I’m sure she will be here soon.”<br />My brow creased in confusion.<br />“Who is on her way? I thought we were meeting to discuss how to raise money for the new NICU.”<br />“We are! But you can’t raise funds without a proper fundraiser. And if anyone can organise a superhit, blockbuster event for you, it is she,” declared Her Highness.<br />What was the old lady smoking? We weren’t a Bollywood production house. Usha Kiran was a hospital with a reputation for quality healthcare. The manic gleam in her eyes made me very nervous, especially when she started throwing around words like superhit and blockbuster.<br />“She?” I asked carefully.<br />“Kabir, you can’t pull off such a big event all by yourself. You need an event manager.”<br />No. What I needed was for these old farts to get their heads out of their asses and come up with a plan to counter Her Highness’s schemes.<br />“Your Highness, we’re trying to collect funds, and I’m not sure how blowing up a huge chunk of money on a grand party is going to help us do that.”<br />The other members of the board nodded in agreement. The very thought of wasting money on a fundraiser made them turn ashen.<br />She shook her head in disappointment.<br />“Beta, sometimes you have to spend money to earn more.”<br />“Well, we don’t have much, to begin with, and I don’t think I can authorise such an expense when I could use the money to buy new ventilators,” I said apologetically.<br />I knew she meant well, but she needed a dose of reality. There was nothing glamorous about what we were trying to do here. We needed state-of-the-art incubators, ventilators with CPAP machines, as well as a well-trained NICU staff, all of which cost money.<br />“What if the board doesn’t have to spend a single penny? I will donate the money you need to organise the event,” she replied craftily.<br />“With due respect, Your Highness, why would you do that?"<br />She banged on the floor with the end of her walking stick.<br />“Because it is time to try something new. The world is full of people who have more money than they can spend in this lifetime. And some of them are even willing to share that wealth. You just need to know how to approach them. As for the ones that don’t want to part with their wealth, you need to know exactly how to lure and skin them,” said Her Highness, with relish.<br />Were we still talking about raising money? I had a feeling there was a ruthless serial killer lurking under that silk-clad grandmotherly exterior. I sighed as I resigned myself to an uncomfortable meeting with the event manager. But I would hear her out before I showed her the door. It was the least I could do.<br />I looked at my watch pointedly and nodded.<br />“Fine. Let’s see what this wizard of yours has in mind.”<br />There was a sharp knock at the door, and it swung open.<br />“I hope I’m not too old for one of your lollipops, Doctor Uncle,” called a voice that I hadn’t heard for years.<br />And yet, it hit me with the same force as it had seven years ago.<br />Her Highness rose to welcome her, but I stayed frozen in my seat, unable to do anything but stare at that familiar face. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck was Aisha Rajput doing here?<br />She walked into the room and greeted Her Highness with a warm hug.<br />“Now, where’s my favourite man?” she cooed, pulling away from the Rajmata of Bannor.<br />I clenched my jaw and stood up slowly to my full height as she turned towards me. When she spotted me, she swayed in place as if she had been dealt a body blow. I shot her a frosty smile that made her turn pale.<br />“Well, if it isn’t the OG Bad Girl,” I drawled.”<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/12/bad-girl-gone-good-by-alisha-kay.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bIKIVkQztV0pWaTYLR50LB52QsSx9o1rZtFuUOThdYed2I9QM20n-5uNXp2OK_HTN424FLtopbHWG_0Qo9T3KajzgIMePaTDGy1AVdsswvw4IykC_2sOf_1ZTPtVGV2reKjBUkUEMAioMVAAfDGUwqfhe3MPJ4hA5h6snrHGttAnsfZky19gRPM5/w400-h400/7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u><b>About the Author:</b><br /></u></span><b>Alisha Kay </b>writes funny, exciting and steamy stories, with spunky heroines who can rescue themselves, and hot, woke heroes who find such independence irresistible.<br />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.<br /><br /></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u><b>Alisha on the Web:</b></u></span><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/alishakayauthor/" target="_blank">Instagram</a><span> * </span><a href="https://twitter.com/alishakayauthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a> </span></b></p></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/12/bad-girl-gone-good-by-alisha-kay.html" rel="nofollow" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjuTH4SeDtWEEYMAU84MFImoWrmBvpJOaV7KSWUQpkutyiRcpQdcMAvLMGxWkVBRLyfsNuu_HecHvjyam-HzvCHJFnF8uM6mYdbW3Eox8Sdb3yAbX0qRjj2al-pEJbbHA_1oeyWJh3KgZwdAa-oQv21nrh8qJEDP-oUUy2D2mtZQJUqJrAyJJq5fc/w400-h400/9.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><br /></div><!-- start InLinkz code -->
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<!-- end InLinkz code -->Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-49054898431651201862022-12-17T00:00:00.026+05:302022-12-17T00:00:00.160+05:30#BookBlitz :: Love Bait by Varun Pancholi - #Mystery #Contemporary #Politics @author_channel<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/12/love-bait-by-varun-pancholi.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAS9HhuKz9_Kq-7rmbVwJFwck5iopB6mjFJ9zU7fEN-8fSABAe5jN6eXfm5KeVH6UDtp_jXESGOho5s5hmHeM2ydlh9r7fijungkdzGJLlrrdnU1AqXXqf6usDCuCCiWeYexwaTBypqGpBw4csgepwDch8tLQPbV2Liwpd_I9GbWYwhEgA_JPoPr4l/s16000/Love%20Bait%203.png" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/12/love-bait-by-varun-pancholi.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="313" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKzse0jmXMIHS_Qjwy6CSqPUY7XsbntTFkXPHUpjxSgcG9KlmQCbaYa9syNu5_IjV-aba-czE9Vz-vM2k_GKsMcCIZUPk93Jw3-0sgNkPXP7AGI2xiwEaTGzg3v4cY3ZrogWJoKleVn9V_NHTSrFNwEfI844Rd_hyi3lAtyerI0e_uW1O5e4daQgY-/s320/Love%20Bait%201.jpg" width="201" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Pranay Oza is excited about his life’s new phase - COLLEGE. And soon enough, life offers him much more than he imagined. Falling in live with a college senior and the love being reciprocated through anonymous love notes was like a dreamy sequence from a romantic movie come true.</div><div><br /></div><div>But then was this love or bait?</div><div><br /></div><div>It is college election time too and stakes are high for all the aspirants for the President’s post. It is the last chance for all of them to prove themselves capable of moving into pro- fessional politics.</div><div><br /></div><div>But can a fresher Pranay Oza be critical to the elections?</div><div><br /></div><div>At this age, decisions are driven by passion and consequences can be life changing <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://amzn.to/3j5Ch3M" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3uSM7bL" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span><br /><br /><h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u>Read an Excerpt from Love Bait</u></span></h1><br /><h4 style="text-align: left;">Prologue</h4></div><div><div>It was four minutes to midnight. Pranay climbed up the wall with the support of the tree trunk and took a pause to look around. There was no one to be seen, it was all silent and so he jumped on the other side as quietly as he could. He steadied himself and looked around again. Finding no sign of any movement, he quickly rushed towards the narrow pathway leading to the stairs, the one he had seen Amrita take the other night.<br /><br /></div><div>He quietly started climbing up the stairs. For once, he was happy the hostels rarely replaced a fused bulb on the stairways. It was not a dark night and the half-moon brightened the stairs enough for a cautious climb. His heart was racing fast, not knowing what to expect. He wanted to be quick but silent. “Why am I here? What do I want? Well, it’s a bit too late to think about it now.” But he firmly believed he was expected to be here at this hour.<br /><br /></div><div>As he reached the foyer, half way up to the first floor, he heard a creak. He froze in fear and almost stopped breathing to maintain absolute silence. The creak sounded like a door or window closed or maybe opened. He waited and tried to listen hard. But it was all very quiet apart from his drumming heart and his soft breath. The music from the common room remained faint. He concluded it should be one of the windows moving due to the wind.<br /><br /><div>He climbed up further and reached another small foyer.<br /><br /></div><div>There are two doors now, one to his left and one to his right. “It should be the one on the left,” he thought. It was a guess based on what he had seen the other night. He looked for room number but there was none, neither on the other door.<br /><br /></div><div>‘Left it is’ he decided. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. Still not sure what to expect, he took a step forward to lightly knock on the door. But as his knuckle touched the door for the first tap, the door creaked.<br /><br /><div>The door was open. Indeed! He was expected! His breath was still shallow, his anxiety level still high and his heart still pounding. He slowly pushed the door open. It was dark inside and his eyes took a few moments to adjust. The window on the wall to his right was open, the curtains were drawn and the moonlight was filtering in from the borders. There was another glass window on the opposite wall the room which was closed. The light coming in from this window was just enough to create an outline of the bed underneath. It seemed there was no one on the bed. The rest of the room was dark.<br /><br /></div><div>He took a step into the room and straightened himself up.<br /><br /></div><div>The room was eerily quiet and he could not see Amrita around. Was she shy and hiding from him? On second thoughts he wondered ‘Am I even in the correct room?’<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/12/love-bait-by-varun-pancholi.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBkiStGzvfecaeWB3Sw23SI6PYIxEFgNTnkJNTGogv-souejwVXQgvENmb0Yd73e_vDGEJ0gUuv-_iLmb15pw_9hbK_3kOSstJA6-2YTmpB0H1ydEzuqT2aRaPZdc7aP7L6ndYecNg83YQ-T9wkoUYnZiIE2T3W6yW8iSpG_IfwbQq_TJu6yEzJ-Xn/s16000/7.png" /></a></div><div><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNtTeKCjKYaqLW-vbKML6TSKjL4Z5Aq3k-1Kx_vo_n1gEzLrh0GeDgAUGimvB9N4WgReXXhaSUvaoEx6hsaSgbVwWLdJOp_EUhwdTak_xi6xvWi0oUeyPUEeKYBmiSze43oZdYFaD4W-U5KXns3h5GdWhqmo8Yxx5Q_l_MgRKbfT7n8wl5KSRgkitQ/s1024/Varun%20Pancholi.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="828" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNtTeKCjKYaqLW-vbKML6TSKjL4Z5Aq3k-1Kx_vo_n1gEzLrh0GeDgAUGimvB9N4WgReXXhaSUvaoEx6hsaSgbVwWLdJOp_EUhwdTak_xi6xvWi0oUeyPUEeKYBmiSze43oZdYFaD4W-U5KXns3h5GdWhqmo8Yxx5Q_l_MgRKbfT7n8wl5KSRgkitQ/w162-h200/Varun%20Pancholi.jpeg" width="162" /></a></div><div><br /><br />Varun holds a Bachelors degree in Engineering from MS university, Baroda. Additionally, he holds double Masters in Business from Symbiosis, Pune and HEC Paris.</div><div>After working in India & France, Varun currently lives in Bahrain with his wife and two daughters. He loves reading and this is his first rendezvous with writing.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></div></div></div>Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-90905539737490560312022-11-21T00:00:00.095+05:302022-11-21T12:26:47.835+05:30#BookTour :: Me No Pause, Me Play by Manoj Kumar Sharma - #Contemporary #Fiction @ManojSharmma<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/11/me-no-pause-me-play-by-manoj-kumar-sharma.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidUzuLBKofUoVYM26bvQSs0xaC2_d8vpnh9Sj_4vD_F1RtZY54w1RQK984a02mAWWIfyF3_RhuCpvsvqi1zImtcxRQaXdWI5MLOI5WqbpVrU1h375-LkSobwIph8Kgn9PFgfElGBq2kjVEwZdvAOYP-eoZum5D9_J2ruXza_oMQ0RJ1lCIpj467BCb/s16000/Mpnp%20Banners.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUUuIP8ScnDYxykoyd-VkM0Lf45UIrSh_MTSfSAKeD3F1Cf_GW_u3OiA3x1A_5qVcItdEqz1dYjMcQSaVzbBv1q8CvS9A6KWnfKVTwAu3uDdemmcj-pRKCdncp394-axzHBsnR0MPWXl9Gn7f01sBPt-XMocoB9uc-1iRLIGY5UmKXnbXLLc373u_t/s320/Book%20Cover.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><h4 style="text-align: left;">This story revolves around Woman and Womanhood through lenses of Social Kaleidoscope.</h4><div style="text-align: left;">The essence of this story is overcoming the intricacy and complicacy of Womanhood through innovative measures with calculated risks.<br />Though since ages wise men never ever denied the unique importance of Women in their lives, but, at the same time couldn’t restrain from autocratic patriarchy and disguised misogyny.<br />Even Nature’s unworded Laws cruelly dumped Women after manipulating them to the fullest.<br />How long Woman will have to continue bearing the ongoing sufferings? <br />Nobody knows, even Woman herself…<br />But, there are exceptions as well sometimes…<br />One key protagonist takes the Woman sufferings as challenge, and, not only resolves the physical health and mental agony, but, unexpectedly raises the bar to the next level of inspirational excellences…</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After all its own belief system, which can create anything anywhere anytime…</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Let incommunicado with our Ethos & Egos… </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Let the status quo of our Women should not PAUSE…</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Let our Women PLAY ever and ever and ever and ever… for ever…<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62893129-me-no-pause-me-play" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3GAdUoF" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3Asc5pC" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Trailer:</u></b></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/11/me-no-pause-me-play-by-manoj-kumar-sharma.html" target="_blank"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="250" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/HhgcGd3G5RU" title="YouTube video player" width="350"></iframe></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/11/me-no-pause-me-play-by-manoj-kumar-sharma.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="1200" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-iVwH4JCpFNd7lSDfpRcM_qftZga-TmCqs5pWQUGvU7xpXm3bwe9iUWY_ItyVi-q8oZdEll9LaL3EWVcZFTMfPPqvng6c4zxCUOUCYFF9_ulh4G1TWulh0gumdrbFzvqI33yJkx20eOtIzjwpMsei3-grm3S5JD6na8kjC909N777zmaqRYAkQhT4/w640-h334/MKS%20Banners%202.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/11/me-no-pause-me-play-by-manoj-kumar-sharma.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="1200" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijCyekgjmr_7rXqkQjnyCFdY4MfRHbx6l4tTlPiesh2l6zwW8d0gH5hm-nKb0491MUeDD3ETIx6pMpnJlTRdT9w8Py6DoDCFmPSuuDEyAnXLOXMst0S12xIKfO60nej7JK-1CZguaXhPu02s7uFSANLJWG5QPSLKilpe54tF19Ww8xe9t5NvbJdBYk/w640-h334/MKS%20Banners%201.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/11/me-no-pause-me-play-by-manoj-kumar-sharma.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="1200" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx_lH6UY2coW7mOS-Q_Tb852bwxQfKMJb9p-rcS6XzaiCfLaVDCrA-7kA_PKpW0ZtbjgMehfg8HF4bYLFEs0a09bfvNItGbx-QpRB-16TXZopcMQDq52gwVhFAfwp7FW2e8KSP6PEzjeroUn1OqctGh-pQKVBe-q-jiLbRlt7ZY_vYcn9UQC0wqE4d/w640-h334/MKS%20Banners%204.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About the Author:</u></b></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="4898" data-original-width="3265" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAKqGReuxYxnYetFrc8AKlbsncbOwCp7PRCn4Ww9wu3czJOHk8T_JUtyn_0rJtG97kGC-TEWrSL1rd0AlXBeTRjXsEOAOBgbWHyewg6thvp9YcOVc6LYABQXXv0Apz8u0DmhjQuZ61Y8VevjJoBxwqXvsPjwBPc6RqDrRRA3JDeLed2eqBuy1djop/s320/MANOJ%20SHARMA%204.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>MIRRRO fame self-styled author Manoj Kumar Sharma has brought his next Novel from a different genre altogether ‘Woman Fiction’.</div><div>Delighted by the Best Seller status of MIRRRO in specific multiple timelines, Awards from renowned Literature Houses, moral boosting reviews by book lovers, and, guiding critics, the Author do feel more responsibility for continual inclusive excellences to next levels.</div><div>Feel blessed as ‘MIRRRO’ been adjudged for prestigious Awards from renowned Literary Houses…..</div><div>1. Best Debut Author Award 2020 from ‘ICMDR’</div><div>2. Best Debut Novel Award 2020 among Top 100 Debut Novels from ‘CRITICSPACE’.</div><div>3. Best Fiction (Thriller) Award 2020 from ‘The Indian Awaz Foundation’</div><div>4. Best Thriller Book of the Year 2020 by ‘Literary Mirror’ </div><div>5. Best Fiction Book of the Year 2020 by ‘AIY AGHAAZ’</div><div>6. Best Writer Award 2020 by ‘Yashassvi Awards’</div><div>The Story “Me No Pause Me Play” born out of day-to-day life in our society, where every now and then our Women are made to feel the pinch of Nature’s Laws and of Society’s hypocritical Patriarchy and Misogyny. </div><div>We talk a lot and even do a lot for Gender equality, Woman Liberation, Woman Empowerment…but, the practical realities are far far away from the truth and still painful. </div><div>Author is right now working on the sequel of MIRRRO and parallely working on few more Books of varied genres on various known issues of our day-to-day lives…but, in ways beyond innovativeness… </div><div>As an overview the Author believes that Writing is a Soulful Act, blessed by Maa Sarasvatiji & Muse... not by the Author.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Author on the Web:</u></b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://authormanojkumarsharma.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AUTHORMANOJKUMARSHARMA/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/ManojSharmma" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/manojkumarsharmma/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> </b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Giveaway:</u></b></span></div><div>1 Paperback Copy of Me No Pause, Me Play by Manoj Kumar Sharma (for Indian Residents)</div><div>1 Kindle Copy of Me No Pause, Me Play by Manoj Kumar Sharma (for International Residents)</div><div><br /></div></div></div><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="491d1d8b274" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/491d1d8b274/" id="rcwidget_t1ic5uli" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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<!-- end InLinkz code -->Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-79867862602573024042022-11-03T00:00:00.009+05:302022-11-03T13:12:11.950+05:30#BookBlast :: Art of Self-Maximization: Simple Hacks For Life's Challenges! by Dr.Sanjeevv Khanna - #AoSM #NonFiction #SelfHelp @sanjeevvkhanna<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/11/bookblast-art-of-self-maximization.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1pxTCLjMrwRYpDH28w__kxx71pb-0pW1IY8BGsE_xxm_MDc5WLyK_KnFUUyYpqraVs-JJBBO2z9sXrwahp6FLn-8ZqucsaltCJlYoTulCarFeqXWnq_sRI3x0n4K3_jmlheQb4cJc_GN7wrtAuaPVUUjnHujZ39owkrtUAi6VsizweBCCzejtUIX2/s16000/AoSM%20Banner.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="324" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdRVOvX6ixszqs21v0zeWcn-L2Tlq4GOFeid26YnfXokyy26LERFYGTE0lmzHxLkBwNLj6-MJNvJUROQ4sQ8UERVlz_E1Of6rWAWSibH8KJ3jdoB9hu7r5W24Eb_C-o3PX4PYzaxa7uxK2Pd-3bstTdoyHN-bs-7BUlvOXrPh0uWojFRIsj4yALiPX/s320/Cover.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><span style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Do you look forward to wake up each morning ready to face a new day and new challenges? Or does the fear of failure keep you from reaching your true potential? Do you feel you are stuck in life and not progressing? Do you want to leave your comfort zone, but are not sure how to do it? Only when you are clear about what you want to achieve in your life and your goals can you work toward it.</div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In his book, "ART OF SELF-MAXIMIZATION" the author, Dr. Sanjeevv Khanna, gives you the recipe to live a fulfilling life. This book will help you identify the areas in your life where you need to make a change to realize your true potential.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><u>Reading this book will help you...</u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Discover what you are passionate about</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Visualize your life goals</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Overcome fear of failure</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Live a balanced and full life</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Get back the joy of living</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div style="text-align: left;">Dr. Sanjeevv Khanna, a renowned Ikigai, Life, Relationship & Leadership Coach, has provided the blueprint to successful living in this book. It is sure to help anyone looking to maximize their life experiences and come out of the daily rut. Read this book to learn the important hacks to manifest your desires and attain success.</div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://amzn.to/3TSXpI4" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3SUEMlu" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u>Read an Excerpt from Art of Self-Maximization</u></span></h1><div><br /><h4 style="text-align: center;">“We are kept away from our goal not by obstacles, but by a clear path to a lesser goal.”- Robert Brault. </h4></div><div><br />The universe controls our actions. Have you ever been told this? Have you not heard people talking about the sheer significance of luck in one’s life? </div><div>The answer is categorically affirmative. You often come across people blaming their luck for not getting a job or a good score or for being yelled at by a superior, and the list goes on and on. Why don't you take a minute and ponder upon the concept of luck? Think about Rajesh, a young man, who is just out of college and is looking for a job. A year passes by, and Rajesh has miserably failed in his attempts to secure a job. </div><div><br />Now, whenever he is asked about being unemployed, he blames his luck. The truth is, Rajesh only applied for the jobs that his connections referred him to. Although this is a good way of job hunting, Rajesh had neither updated his resume nor enhanced his professional skills. He assumed his luck would put things in place somehow. Let me tell you this. The recipe for success is 99 percent hard work and 1 percent luck. Look around you. The world is brimming with opportunities. </div><div><br />The ones who have succeeded grabbed those chances and worked really hard to accomplish their goals. This is the story of all successful people. </div><div><br /><h4 style="text-align: center;">"Opportunity does not knock; it presents itself when you beat down the door.”- Kyle Chandler </h4></div><div><br />We all want to succeed, and we all know that it is easier said than done. One can dream, but turning your dreams into reality is the actual task at hand. We are aware of many rags to riches real-life stories. Consider Narayan Murthy, Indira Nooyi, Karsanbhai Patel, Shah Rukh Khan, Rajnikanth, or even late Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam; none of them were born with a golden spoon. How did they reach their current stature? </div><div><br />Well, simple. All of them were open to opportunities, and they worked hard. They explored the path to board a purpose-driven life. Go ahead and look up a few stories yourself. And then, ask yourself this: What makes them who they are? How are they so ahead of the pack? </div><div><br />You need some crucial elements to fill your life with a purpose. Have you heard of consistent behavior? A consistent behavior motivates you, lets you overcome hurdles, and helps you move closer to your focus. </div><div><br />As you adhere to consistent behavior, you dig an option to change the conditions in the surrounding environment. Anyone who lives a life filled with purpose instills consistent behavior in their outer and inner circles. </div><div><br />The next crucial element is to be psychologically resilient. You need to be flexible and make adjustments wherever necessary to meet your goal, no matter what obstacles and demands you might face. </div><div><br />By avoiding adversities and managing the environment dynamically, both physical and psychological, you can reduce your problems, especially if your life does not have a purpose. </div><div><br />Additionally, having a purpose in life enables you to effectively allocate available resources like energy and time. These resources allow you to pursue the purpose. Other actions with zero worth are kept to the least. Besides, the resources they could have used up are redirected to purpose-driven actions. Such components are deemed important elements to pursue a life filled with purpose. In their absence, it’s almost impossible to find and achieve one’s life purpose. <br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u><b>About the Author:</b></u></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/11/bookblast-art-of-self-maximization.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1057" data-original-width="1280" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwgDR0KqEI8OZB7X110yI7qQFM4S3gufdM0fxD0kX5ObfQugdb5qOHEpZltF_ewCMv3ZQJ5mA8B47RJ6qN5nOnlb7HQX1EaBFg5xY7Msb9oQvtTxUgpUcgwej3uc2lDOO-teAkIMOhplN1fMiDooCOJIGe2yp5j1SvQcnu6SJWpFXO3uQve974ITpR/w320-h264/Author%20Picture.jpeg" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dr. Sanjeevv Khanna is India's 1st Licensed IKIGAI coach and also he is ICF & NLP Certified Life Coach. Dr. Sanjeevv Khanna is also Founder & CEO of Academy for Self Maximization, Director - CBO, Startup Lanes Strategic Partner & Executive Director - Noble Manhattan Ltd., U.K. Global Leader - Artemes, Mentor of Change -ATAL, Niti Aayog. He is also the author of Ikigai is Ikigai & Art of Self-Maximisation.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Author on the Web:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://twitter.com/sanjeevvkhanna" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DrSanjeevvKhanna" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/ikigaicoach.drsanjeevvkhanna/" target="_blank">Instagram</a></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div></div></div><!-- start InLinkz code -->
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<!-- end InLinkz code -->Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-89795851703182393422022-10-25T00:00:00.002+05:302022-10-25T00:00:00.182+05:30#ReleaseDayBlitz :: The Prince and the Runaway Bride by Alisha Kay - #BillionaireRomance #RoyalRomance #RomanticComedy @alishakayauthor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/10/the-prince-and-the-runaway-bride.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhohHFhOsHozoYHJreIoopuRrs35x6S5rzN9d4CS6FyjhjGuXyYZyZWHAvAzT2mv1pa4S938znRy_8fD74ahmf3iwB0lwCBIIkxDRVOQFAENv7TFec2WT7Dptk6JF7_5PGkScwSqSSGN_cK900LgqBj7RIYF8lG9UdRV1Vx2tzvhBkss80yy56z0Rum/s16000/TP&TRB%20Banners.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="313" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0fdK0BayV7Y2BEcfDpgFLc2BfRagGF_ko1WjqjKITGym1Fd8cO5F9eZ2BUqc2w0p3aP6UFyIeXzpGwla1l-47TyMYzUMYFImW5AVHWh2wn4vyzKTntdGqBWqQLKl1QS-4w8ma0ibRJFVSR3tXPgwd59tljC9ZKDTXRwBxYKUK0VVCIVTw1GvcKwA/s320/TP&TRB%20Cover.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><p>Faced with a loveless marriage, Ananya Rajput does what she always does when faced with a tough situation - she runs away!<br />Except, this time she runs right into the arms of the man she’s dreamed about for years - okay, fantasised about, to be completely honest.<br />His Highness Yashvardhan Rathore, Yuvarajkumar of Bannor, is so going to burn in hell.<br />Not only did he help his dead friend’s sister run away from her wedding mandap, he now has terribly inappropriate feelings for her.<br />All his life he’s lived by one truth - no one has ever loved him enough to stay. And he doesn’t think a known flight risk like Ananya will be the first.<br />As her restless feet get calmer, the walls around his heart get higher.<br />Will Yash ever come to trust in love?<br />And will Ananya let her reluctant Prince Charming claim a runaway bride?<br /><br /><b><i>To find out read the third book in the Devgarh Royal series.</i></b><br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://amzn.to/3DhQIcC" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3z5stf4" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a></span></b><br /><br /><br /></p><h1 style="text-align: center;"><u>Excerpts from The Prince and the Runaway Bride</u></h1><br /><p></p><p>An astrologer once told my grandmother that a girl would be my downfall.</p><p> As I stared at the girl in a bridal outfit shimmying down a rope made of bedsheets tied together, I had to admit that he might have been on to something.</p><p> “Are you sure you want to do this, Ananya?” I asked for the third time.</p><p> She turned around to glare at me.</p><p> “Ask me that one more time. I dare you,” she snarled, as she tried to hold her veil in place while hanging on to said rope desperately.</p><p> It was all very well for her to get testy, but I deserved some answers. When I had ducked around the side of Rajput House in response to her sister’s phone call, the last thing I expected was to be coerced into being the bride’s getaway driver.”<br /><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>* * *</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><div>I wanted to throw my notebook at his head.</div><div> I wanted to smack that smirk off his pretty face. Hard. I wanted to grab him by the collar, pull him closer and kiss that damn smirk off. Wait, what?</div><div> No! Not kiss it off! Wipe it off. Slap it off. Punch it off? Maybe that was too harsh. But I definitely didn’t want to kiss it off. I mean, I wanted to, but I wasn’t going to.</div><div> My face was getting hot and flushed just thinking about it. I wondered what Yash would do if I emptied the bottle of Himalayan water on my bedside table over my head. But I would do it if I had to. I would do whatever it took to keep Prince Charming at arm’s length.</div><div>“I’ll keep my panties to myself, thank you very much,” I said icily.</div><div> Aargh! Why the hell was I even talking about my panties? Yash was the most gorgeous man that ever walked off the pages of a fairy tale and into my personal horror story. And here I was, embarrassing myself every time I opened my mouth. Where was a roll of duct tape when you needed it?</div><div> </div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u><b>About the Author:</b><br /></u></span><b>Alisha Kay </b>writes funny, exciting and steamy stories, with spunky heroines who can rescue themselves, and hot, woke heroes who find such independence irresistible.<br />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.<br /><br /></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u><b>Alisha on the Web:</b></u></span><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/alishakayauthor/" target="_blank">Instagram</a><span> * </span><a href="https://twitter.com/alishakayauthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a> </span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></p></div><!--start InLinkz code-->
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<!--end InLinkz code-->Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-28514645912525481232022-09-15T00:00:00.010+05:302022-09-15T10:54:42.405+05:30#ReleaseDayBlitz :: All Kinds of Wrong by Shilpa Suraj - @shilpaauthor #Romance #Suspense<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/09/all-kinds-of-wrong.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNsqvH7BNBrSqaFMsqCjDayzNRqDm8yGAzFizQQFEtxrOYK91ElkxaNhPyPWLI4lVpixqJLZWR2Odmo6bCcYUOuDeqQN0xGmjB_2FeAwqZ9L0RKFdVa4xgd0LkMGrE-5CWtUmGsZnYII5FuZ_zjUpFhuzyCP_yHLhD2zKqebdXF1kGRaq1PYWecVU5/s16000/%20AKoW%20Banners%202.jpg" /></a></span></div><p></p><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What does a lifestyle guru do when her life starts to fall apart?</span></h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2396" data-original-width="1601" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9PwSIqoYqZEJLi8xK77vT7IYG0v_nYPIwysjwiny8v_NwGLpb485ZjPnqov_uOpbJf2tng8_GZyR6ESpbnlokC9EctGGx_cpGiRp-u_b4r8qZssOSOPBFon-juRQ-JaLvpST517faQXt5swRgpocXcmM1FWJo2JqZx2G7zV3BWlNGkPrDrfPf741i/s320/Final-%20All%20kinds%20of%20Wrong.jpg" width="214" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Alia Dubey is being stalked. The problem is no one believes her. Not the cops, not her family…and well, she doesn’t really have any friends.<br />Until the day her sister calls in a favour and asks her friend from the Intelligence Bureau to check on Alia and the gifts she’s been receiving.<br />Officer Avinash Rathore has better things to do than babysit a spoilt socialite with delusions of danger. Until he walks in to find her home broken into and an innocuous bouquet of red roses placed there. While everything points to an obsessed lover, Avinash’s instincts are screaming that there is more at play.<br />The gifts keep arriving, escalating from roses to far more sinister things…each with an intimate note hinting at a personal agenda. But whose?<br />The police have a primary suspect – Alia herself. They’re convinced she’s mentally ill and the one planting the evidence that points to a stalker.<br />But Avinash knows there is more. Far from mentally ill, the ditzy socialite he’d expected to meet is incisively intelligent, staggeringly attractive and devastatingly dangerous to his otherwise sensible mind.<br />They find themselves in a race against an unknown opponent who has only one thing in their mind – to destroy Alia’s life and leave her standing in the ruins.<br />And then Alia goes missing. And Avinash realizes that he stands to lose not just the race but, everything. For the ditzy socialite, the one who is All Kinds of Wrong for him is suddenly the only one who can make his world Right again.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62028304-all-kinds-of-wrong" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3QBntot" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3RQenW2" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><u>Read an Excerpt from All Kinds of Wrong</u></span></h1><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Why?” she asked her big sister, bewildered. “Why is this happening? I’m really not the sort to inspire grand passion.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Oh you inspire tons of passion, sweetheart,” Avinash said, humorously. “Just not the sort that you’d normally expect.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">She glared at him. He smiled back, blandly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“I’m going to go meet the cops I know in the evening, but it would help if I had a little more to give them to go on.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Like what?” she asked, numbly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Why don’t you give me a little information on the neighbours you’ve interacted with?” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">She stared at him, blankly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Right,” he muttered. “I forgot. You don’t do relationships.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“She does acquaintances though,” Aria butted in. “Don’t you, Als?” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Alia stared at her. “What does that even mean?” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“What do you know about your neighbours, Als?” Aria sighed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Well, there is dog guy on the second floor. He walks all four of his dogs every morning when I’m going for a jog,” Alia said. “Two Labradors, one Poodle and a mongrel.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Great,” Avinash sat down in front of her, nodding encouragingly. “What else did you notice?”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“He looks a lot like his mongrel.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Avinash blinked. “Jeez, you’re a piece of work,” he said with a soft laugh. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“He does,” Alia insisted. “I’ll show you.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Okay.” He held his hands up in a gesture of peace. “Who else did you notice?” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“The old lady who lives two doors down always smells of cheese.” Alia muttered. “Stinks up the lift every time. I think she lives alone because I’ve never seen anyone else come out of that flat.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Avinash was scribbling on a little notepad he’d produced out of thin air. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Oh and then there is the serial killer,” she said, snapping her fingers in the air. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Avinash froze. “Excuse me?” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Gotcha,” Alia giggled. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“There is a big, burly man with tattoos and dreadlocks who lives on the third floor. He uses the gym sometimes at the same time as I do. He’s very sweet and considerate. Always wipes his sweat off any equipment he uses.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“A real gem,” Avinash agreed drily. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Then there is the girl who always wants to be my friend, no matter how many times I tell her I’m not interested. She lives on this floor too. Oh and the couple on the first floor who invited me for dinner but I didn’t go because I think they’re swingers and I wasn’t looking forward to being proven right that night.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Aria stifled a smile when Avinash shot her a look. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Then, of course, there is the couple on the floor below us. They have a toddler who sounds like he’s being murdered most of the time. But, of course, that isn’t true. He’s clearly alive because I see him eating sand in the playground when I go for my jog.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“A very good clue,” Avinash said. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“And then there is the eighty-year-old man in the wheelchair who forced himself on me in the elevator.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“What?” Avinash snapped to attention. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Well,” Alia said, frowning. “He said he wanted to tell me something and when I leaned down to hear him more clearly, he kissed me on my lips. The dirty, old goat.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“And what did you do?” Aria asked, aghast.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Well, I pressed the button to stop the elevator and then I deflated the tyres of his wheelchair while he squawked at me. Once I got the elevator moving, I got off and left without helping him. From what I heard on the building whatsapp group, he was stuck there for the better part of an hour before someone found him.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Aria and Avinash just stared at her. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“What?” she demanded. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Nothing,” Avinash said, faintly. “I just finally understand why you don’t do relationships.” </div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><p><b style="font-size: xx-large;"><u><span style="font-family: inherit;">About the Author:</span></u></b></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZsqPboVWvYQ2ECtbQpwNOY94rQahKP1Zr9xNxMrjazqen-8PnT67LHpMvpc4BLZGvJLEaVslU3IBcANA02rMhoEbBjGpz4zmd-1IccEtS3SU4q6z1dVccFwi5BBPZ2cYnuBots5N44e-3lwvHXBSsRQTNwcUuQEWTOkcPp_U31JF12FpE-K8wUT53/w200-h200/Shilpa.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><br />Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />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.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Contact the Author:<br /></u></b></span></span><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://shilpasuraj.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/shilpasuraj/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/shilpaauthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shilpa.suraj/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> * <a href="http://eepurl.com/dt-Br9" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div></div></div><!-- start InLinkz code -->
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<!-- end InLinkz code -->Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-39963650422970894032022-08-15T00:00:00.010+05:302022-08-15T09:42:58.739+05:30#ReleaseDayBlitz :: Operation Turquoise (The Mavericks #1) by Rani Ramakrishnan - #Military #Thriller #TheMavericks1 @author_rani<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/08/releasedayblitz-operation-turquoise.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT-PxcfRTysJ43farri3Vqo3ZfpFPfGF8dmlL2KhEU-Tx5SgBgdZQKcP3qjx6HBjTpOd5OoW1WKd4duhblWHFw2B0JixQaA0OSxnGwEPaUKfV-2_23G4eEHh-wCMl4zskPz968tDJ09TbIHZVEUwZQM-ep4S-MZ5Unbiry__2uqde8kJ5SULkgs9_4/s16000/O%20T%20Banners%203.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: center;">One is a brave soldier, the other a deadly terrorist. A camera will decide which man survives.</h3><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibiAWulvecd8ZN_ApYsyqRtFn7oTX78-giaVxp5h4OLiOhZL0IGLsRmIMfCXlIrrR_nnjixdL7LY6XmWwjxqbhoecly3b6dmC47HLaUBCgndKohbGZqfI_q-0iXSOaoh5Pp41WkwcdG2ju7qccnOvm9dqhoWnGCdXrtWoD1pru1F0TmFvc6kSdH_jf/s2560/Operation%20Turquoise%20Cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibiAWulvecd8ZN_ApYsyqRtFn7oTX78-giaVxp5h4OLiOhZL0IGLsRmIMfCXlIrrR_nnjixdL7LY6XmWwjxqbhoecly3b6dmC47HLaUBCgndKohbGZqfI_q-0iXSOaoh5Pp41WkwcdG2ju7qccnOvm9dqhoWnGCdXrtWoD1pru1F0TmFvc6kSdH_jf/s320/Operation%20Turquoise%20Cover.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div><br />The Major is a seasoned field agent, and neutralising a target is routine for him. But everything about Operation Turquoise, from the target to the weapon, is disturbingly unconventional. Alone in a foreign country, the Major must execute each stage of his mission with utmost precision. There is no Plan B.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Poet has a way with words—and warfare. His voice echoes in thousands of homes worldwide, yet few have ever seen him. Endowed with a sharp mind and evil intent, the Poet has orchestrated many spectacular terror attacks in Asia and Africa. His latest mission has the Indian intelligence fraternity on its toes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ridden with risks, Operation Turquoise will bring the two men head to head—and only one will survive.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61873881-operation-turquoise" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3C0zArH" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3CkE50v">Amazon.com</a></b></span><br /><br /><br /><h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u>Meet The Major from Operation Turquoise</u></span></h1><div><br /></div><div><div>The Major, 6.2’ lean and fit with short black hair, was like any regular Indian man, unless he was on duty; then he became the job.<br /><br /></div><div>Along with hundreds of pumped up youth in their late teens, he became a gentleman cadet at the National Defence Academy (NDA) just before the 80s decade ended. It was a career decision like becoming a doctor or engineer for him. But his training at the academy transformed him for life. His profession became more than a mere job to him.<br /><br /></div><div>Every time he donned the crisp green army uniform, his soul took on a new life. Any task assigned to him become a responsibility he had to fulfil, irrespective of the odds. <br /><br /></div><div>As a young lieutenant, eager to challenge his own abilities, he volunteered to become a Special Forces Paratrooper. This required another year of intense training.<br /><br /></div><div>The opportunity to join the Special Group, India’s secret special force unit that took on assignments that the government could not acknowledge, came soon after. Completing the additional training and becoming a member of Col Bhatti’s team of Special Group soldiers known as the Mavericks was the single most cherished accomplishment of his life.<br /><br /></div><div>It was also the decision that put an almost definite expiry date on his life.<br /><br /></div><div>Now the tasks that he undertook were not only dangerous but also top secret. The day he failed at an operation, that day he ceased to exist. But this reality didn’t deter him or weaken his resolve because his failure also meant the success of a serious threat to India’s national security. As long as he breathed, he could not let that happen.<br /><br /></div><div>For Operation Turquoise, he found himself in the land of the Pharaohs disguised as a tourist but he had no time for sightseeing. He had to hunt a man who had not been sighted in years.<br /><br /></div><div>From his NDA days, he was known for his ability to disguise himself. On this mission, this skill was put to the ultimate test. His disguise had to work for his mission to succeed. Being a Krav Maga expert, hand-to-hand combat was another one of his strengths that came in handy when an unexpected development threatened to derail the mission. <br /><br /></div><div>While among friends and colleagues, he was a regular person who cribbed about cancelled leaves and poorly planned field operations. He criticised aspects of the armed forces he found wanting and had realistic expectations about what the government of India could offer him in lieu of field support.</div><div>He was single, and had always worked in an all-male environment. Even the mention of a woman in the background made him doubt the credibility of the plan for the mission. But no matter what his misgivings, once given a responsibility he makes it his mission to complete it. <br /><br /></div></div></div><div><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About the Author:</u></b></span><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjETTKDAtJtHwy2pzBkoHvcMN1X797uBD5Xob2QuQhBrFpTvXq5ulxiWkSF9UFxWVr7fAdQ16xCL9scYmR5GAsoLtCluS0MOBbWOZGQbQPNOtgrKGszltvA4tPEockLbcliEho8N2EB4rw94w4im9f1raGI0auKE8bwqTC-64sgAlHmIFNb0FBa0Lo9/s900/Rani%20Ramakrishnan.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjETTKDAtJtHwy2pzBkoHvcMN1X797uBD5Xob2QuQhBrFpTvXq5ulxiWkSF9UFxWVr7fAdQ16xCL9scYmR5GAsoLtCluS0MOBbWOZGQbQPNOtgrKGszltvA4tPEockLbcliEho8N2EB4rw94w4im9f1raGI0auKE8bwqTC-64sgAlHmIFNb0FBa0Lo9/w133-h200/Rani%20Ramakrishnan.jpeg" width="133" /></a></div><div>Rani Ramakrishnan writes contemporary thriller novels. In another lifetime, she was an entrepreneur, a management professional, a trainer, even an author of study materials for distance education. She is an occasional blogger and a regular bookworm. Two things influence her writing: people she met and the places she has visited.</div><div><div><br /></div><div>She lives in Coimbatore, a picturesque city on the foothills of the Nilgiri Mountains, in South India. She loves the outdoors and of late, she has developed a healthy passion for marathons.</div><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://truefictionstories.substack.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/author_rani" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/authorraniramakrishnan" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/author_rani/" target="_blank">Instagram</a></b></span><br /><br /><!--start InLinkz code-->
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<!--end InLinkz code--><br /><br /><br /></div>Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-63563392569476882432022-08-04T00:00:00.014+05:302022-08-04T16:26:54.186+05:30#ReleaseBlitz :: Once Upon A Scandal (Il Cuore #2) by Shilpa Suraj - #Contemporary #Romance @shilpaauthor<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjge-X-_8kHHi4Cl4wKdNIyky7FVsponZKGj382Usgdg3aV7W6yj5uL962zPEzWnCnubhnnbFhO6mhjmXWDZmPEKDZnYnkK96IjLdD0oL4XLrdu-wesmXI0ghoJP0ambcXMk9wnDUf5fF_C6U9FF24stCLjtsFiRw5iPm1tBJk7isrR3h6m6SyJmEma/s1024/Once%20Upon%20a%20Scandal%20Banner.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjge-X-_8kHHi4Cl4wKdNIyky7FVsponZKGj382Usgdg3aV7W6yj5uL962zPEzWnCnubhnnbFhO6mhjmXWDZmPEKDZnYnkK96IjLdD0oL4XLrdu-wesmXI0ghoJP0ambcXMk9wnDUf5fF_C6U9FF24stCLjtsFiRw5iPm1tBJk7isrR3h6m6SyJmEma/s16000/Once%20Upon%20a%20Scandal%20Banner.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A moment of passion, a devastating scandal and a marriage between sworn enemies...<br /><br /></h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtwl2O6nad8C6iLOBmvVCWIYnvsYSolEMlzYRAlS0EFtOrASiyWbEhfbVA5m0sKE_fMtQKXxr1OZu0zKi3-8jxW4VO_tnePwUDpx-LdTaKCPmXUwKVpe1bPXojo1FCXd3DYzmPQYADXn53HoZbiAtLHJ4mnq0gPy9Vr93Ae70j1zHAxNCkmxArZGWQ/s1186/Final-%20Once%20upon%20a%20Scandal.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1186" data-original-width="792" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtwl2O6nad8C6iLOBmvVCWIYnvsYSolEMlzYRAlS0EFtOrASiyWbEhfbVA5m0sKE_fMtQKXxr1OZu0zKi3-8jxW4VO_tnePwUDpx-LdTaKCPmXUwKVpe1bPXojo1FCXd3DYzmPQYADXn53HoZbiAtLHJ4mnq0gPy9Vr93Ae70j1zHAxNCkmxArZGWQ/s320/Final-%20Once%20upon%20a%20Scandal.jpeg" width="214" /></a></div><div>Aakash Thakkar knows his path. Family, duty, responsibility, tradition. His path does not lead to madness, chaos, wild passionate steamy nights, and her. Or so he tells himself.</div><div>Kanak Shourie lives for the present. Friends, fun, work, life. Her present does not include the weight of other people's judgement, stuffy societal mores, discovering desire with uptight businessmen, and him. She refuses to believe otherwise.</div><div>What happens when the one you hate is the only one you want? What happens when you try to right a wrong but end up in something that feels more right than anything ever has?</div><div>Can Aakash and Kanak bury a lifetime of distrust and forge a life together? Or will the reasons that had them battling each other for years bury their tentative new beginning?</div><br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61439399-once-upon-a-scandal" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3oKq4Rz" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3JsPywj" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span><br /><br /><br /><h1 style="text-align: center;"><u>Read an Excerpt from Once Upon a Scandal</u></h1><br /><div><div>She blinked at him. </div><div><br /></div><div>A sharp pang of amusement sliced through him at the sight of her stunned expression. It wasn’t often that Kanak was rendered speechless, and he meant to enjoy the moment for as long as it lasted. </div><div><br /></div><div>“Are you insane?” </div><div><br /></div><div>Five seconds. Well, it was five priceless seconds. He grinned. </div><div><br /></div><div>“What are you smiling about, you lunatic?” Kanak gaped at him. </div><div><br /></div><div>Her auburn hair glinted in the evening sunlight filtering through the window behind her. It made her look sophisticated, chic and poised. Strangely, he missed the purple and blue punk rocker look she usually sported. </div><div><br /></div><div>“Can we sit down?” he asked, gesturing to the lumpy sofa in the corner. It looked well worn, well loved, and rather well manhandled. </div><div><br /></div><div>Kanak didn’t move. She just continued to gawk at him like he’d grown a pair of horns. So, Aakash walked past her and sat down, hoping she’d follow. Something sharp and hard jabbed him in the butt. He sprang up again, pulling a metal back scratcher out of the depths of the brown monstrosity. </div><div><br /></div><div>“Oh,” Kanak mumbled. “That’s where that was.” </div><div><br /></div><div>“Of course,” Aakash replied, drily. “That’s where everyone stores their sharp objects. Under the cushions of their sofa.” </div><div><br /></div><div>Kanak just stared blankly at the back scratcher he handed her. And then…</div><div><br /></div><div>“I need some wine,” she said, abruptly. </div><div><br /></div><div>“It’s only six in the evening.” </div><div><br /></div><div>Kanak stopped midstride and looked at him over her shoulder. “You just asked me to marry you.” </div><div><br /></div><div>Aakash considered that. “Bring two glasses.”</div><div><br /></div><div>“I’m bringing the whole fucking bottle,” she informed him before marching over to the fridge. </div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><p><b style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-large;"><u>About the Author:</u></b></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZsqPboVWvYQ2ECtbQpwNOY94rQahKP1Zr9xNxMrjazqen-8PnT67LHpMvpc4BLZGvJLEaVslU3IBcANA02rMhoEbBjGpz4zmd-1IccEtS3SU4q6z1dVccFwi5BBPZ2cYnuBots5N44e-3lwvHXBSsRQTNwcUuQEWTOkcPp_U31JF12FpE-K8wUT53/w200-h200/Shilpa.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><br />Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />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.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Contact the Author:<br /></u></b></span></span><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><a href="http://shilpasuraj.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/shilpasuraj/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/shilpaauthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shilpa.suraj/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> * <a href="http://eepurl.com/dt-Br9" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div></div>
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<!-- end InLinkz code -->Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-24669792722612158582022-05-27T00:00:00.008+05:302022-05-27T16:29:25.828+05:30#ReleaseDayBlitz :: Vive La Résistance (Donovan Trait #3) by Seelie Kay - @SeelieKay #Paranormal #Romance #Thriller<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/05/releasedayblitz-vive-la-resistance.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ6X6fBmmd4YExjttq0vv4gbhafCQtGjfvDpcRnbDRpvktnhtBaS1NXDfm60bG6Oi9ubH4jd6CEXdOq5e1aUM2A0tGZcFrPsPERkKtmj6QrQf1nnNPN2YV4F1zi9SqzHphBm1_dFL-i2uNLPpvMZJK5UK6LudwlsPu_0o-Oc3awZZm_yIq5GYg98k3/s16000/Vive%20La%20Re%CC%81sistance.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span><h3><span style="text-align: left;">Things are gonna get messy…</span></h3></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/05/releasedayblitz-vive-la-resistance.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="379" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGnAVi851vufcHcx5lL7bv28Zqg20wXScyrZ1duztWdHmyNidsC0pQTf5bC3ILI3X2lXbEC6XSN4sKXGX6rD_q2BWyYYLJw_ziT_uhEki1lu6syPXl2PLkCTjtyCVNBA_HPkWSIb6jeuD3N5MpEzQRYAp_3YLAGAX7tBKUwNC2GryrJdkQuCk4Q3rN/s320/VLR.jpeg" width="214" /></a></div>An illegal union, a banned birth, a Great Lie, and now, genocide. Vampire lawyer Donovan Trait and his wife, chemically-turned Judge Shirley Magnusen, are battling for their lives and the lives of their children. The Vampire Coalition wants them dead, but now the despots have also decided to expand their net, targeting any vampire whose blood is mixed with human or Were. Half-bloods are already treated like dirt by the Vampire Nation. They have been subjected to centuries of discrimination and cruelty at their hands. As the Coalition embarks on a campaign of terror, destruction, and slaughter, millions of half-bloods emerge from the shadows, ready and willing to reclaim their place in the Vampire Nation. The problem is, war cannot be unleashed out in the open in the human world, battles must be fought in other ways. Even with an island of highly-skilled vampire nuns and a few Weres and humans at that their side, it appears the Traits may be fighting an unwinnable war. Their only option may be to sacrifice their own lives in the hopes of setting all other half-bloods free.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.extasybooks.com/Vive-la-R%C3%A9sistance" target="_blank">Extasy Books</a> * <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60838367-vive-la-resistance" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><h1 style="text-align: center;"><u>Read an Excerpt from Vive La Résistance</u></h1><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Donovan shifted on the lounger and muttered incomprehensively, then he emitted a rumbling snore.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Hey, y’all. So yeah, vampires are real and they’re not above doing the dirty to those who share their blood. Take a look at this.” The Tik-Tokker grinned. “You are not gonna believe it. It’s so shady.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Video of the Coalition camps rolled across the screen. Occasionally, the camera zeroed in a dirty or bruised Millennial, or a guard pushing a group of people into a building, their ankles locked together with some sort of rope. They were seen eating off of metal plates and lined up to fill a metal cup with something from a barrel. It wasn’t water. The liquid was rust-colored and thick, like blood.<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“And the dudes running the place have a Marie Antoinette fetish. You know—” The woman mimicked a knife across her throat. “Off with their heads?” She giggled.<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A guillotine appeared on camera. About ten people were in line, each with a black hood over their heads and their arms bound behind them. One at a time, they were pushed onto a stage and forced to their knees, their necks positioned directly under the blade. With manic efficiency, a guard released the blade. Most heads flew into a barrel in front of the platform. The ones that rolled off onto the stage were kicked to their final destination. The headless bodies were tossed onto a pile on the ground.<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Oh, grosss,” the woman complained. She leaned toward the camera. “Kind of like a bad zombie movie, isn’t it?” She sat back in her chair and made a face. “Whatever. I mean, like, are we supposed to believe that’s really happening? Isn’t that against the law or something?” She cackled. “As if.” She leisurely stretched her body, her crop top exposing a belly button ring. “I’m so shook.”<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The woman tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled. “Now, I’m not sharing this for the views. It is kind of sus. But if this shit is real, someone needs to get off the pot and do something about it. Aren’t there any woke cops out there who can play the James Bond card? Before anymore—” She swiped her finger across her throat and giggled. Then the screen went black.<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Donovan shot up in his chair and blinked. Once. Twice. He shook his head and attempted to gather himself. What the hell? Sure, he had needed the sleep, even if it was only a thirty-minute nap, but the dreams he could do without. It had been less than forty-eight hours since the worldwide kidnappings. Donovan knew preparations for rescue were underway. But he also knew Bengotten and Hannigan were capable of even greater cruelty. He could only imagine the terror and the torture the victims were being subjected to. <br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It was difficult to understand how the vampire world was capable of this. He had long prided himself on their natural superiority, their ability to rise up above the petty politics and unjustified violence in the human and Were worlds. Yet overnight, vampires had become the monsters, the tyrants capable of such evil. That astonished him. For the first time in his long existence, Donovan was ashamed of being a vampire. If it was possible, he might very well submit to being turned into a human or a Were. He buried his face in his hands. Yes, he could live as a human. Perhaps he could ask Dr. Alvarez to find a way to turn off his vampirism, maybe using the gene-editing Marilyn could not stop talking about.</div><div><br /></div></div></div><p> <b style="font-size: xx-large;"><u>About Seelie Kay:</u></b></p><p><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/05/releasedayblitz-vive-la-resistance.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="900" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUwfxccZp5_QYjTciO7CeOZAiXVv4lIk15r_AXtonHb4e83qtwoKtsAvW5HPEeXL7KUxPldlSMalNppgyxV-TwA6B0vJt2qCMa-godivoBAWS5qeaWcPz5kaLjsuzv6TjFZXko17GAQH4/s320/Seelie+Kay.jpg" width="320" /></a>Award-winning author Seelie Kay writes about lawyers in love, sometimes with a dash of kink.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. </p><p>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!<br /><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Seelie on the Web:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.seeliekay.com" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="http://seeliekay.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/SeelieKay" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/seelie.kay.77" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/seeliekay51/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/39SmhKV" target="_blank">Author's Amazon Page</a></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><!-- start InLinkz code -->
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<!-- end InLinkz code -->Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-37152629254608402172022-05-23T00:00:00.024+05:302022-05-23T17:06:16.318+05:30#99Cents Deal :: Imagine the Kiss (Crystal Creek Series #7) by Laura Haley-McNeil - @laurarmcneil #Romance #Suspense #CleanRomance <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/05/99cents-deal-imagine-kiss-crystal-creek.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGpGQkCsZO9D48jF3lsIhVOpZZWAktlNIW0aQGet5MML0oSSpGI2ASAdjS6X5P86my1NH3MXyuE3S0zvhsj2y2IWQMc0np14zPkLIMl3umczREyMbF7hVZO-gX73iDp2uXdqP2EJi4F6nFmMaAZ93abjrRgUapiVffLrVGre18BejLiF9vBG9Cjtkw/s16000/Imagine%20the%20Banner.png" /></a></div><p></p><h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;">Available for 99 cents from 23rd till 29th May!<br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/05/99cents-deal-imagine-kiss-crystal-creek.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_4JPXzaspPW7wQYWNxCDV2xaxE9KY8AClMvur2VDwhOsHpQIO3fcKljmaag0mmHzy9DyUWd3AMPEg--ZZ0Eq4mLrJdsVkfzVi5hedetYP8XIbngr_dt0YQdWtSDXC9n9SAGbC4MLoutQHy08EPX-yP76r8VXoeRsNUqzDitsh95mp_ZnlZeOPMl08/w400-h400/Imagine%20the%20Kiss%203.png" width="400" /></a></div></h1><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1801" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBr_ID6nJ8bdA88CMwTOkmhDIJHPrQ90BqzVCKT8FYYOc9CdlAcuQOFXG9459dqJBjKfcbilh5ABa3zNB9R9a1oa7aDbQ43x473pbaUPNCu-yiKrUqFzmdWe5REUvBiYpoA9YRSQJPuvp-8N0m7LiuPoUxdEAnWWn-psa5g3nVtJkIStkFrAaDrSoc/s320/Imagine%20the%20kiss%20ebook%20cover%20get%20covers%201.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div><h4 style="text-align: left;">Two people open themselves to the truth and open themselves to each other.</h4><div>Her marriage in ruins, violinist Teagan Whitloch Munroe escapes into her music and the solace she finds at the Crystal Creek Ranch. Practicing in the woods helps her piece together her life, but she isn’t alone. When she hears someone hiking nearby, she demands he reveal himself, but the only revelation she gets is a soothing voice that heals the pain in her heart.<br />Maimed by a crushing accident, the once famous architect Phineas St. Cyr protects the world from his disfigurement by sequestering himself in the woods on the Crystal Creek Ranch. When he hears the intoxicating strains from Teagan’s violin, he can’t resist the beauty that quiets his aching soul, and he yearns to know the woman who creates such beauty.<br />Teagan finds sanctuary in her friendship with this connoisseur of music, but soon realizes Phin’s hiding more than his hideous scars. As they become entangled with each other, Teagan is stunned to learn they share more than a love of music. They are caught in a web of deceit by someone threatening to reveal Phin’s secrets. His exposed past endangers Teagan, and he can no longer walk away. This time he must face the enemy determined to defeat him. He’ll fight to the finish to protect the woman he can never love. No price is too high to keep buried the secret that will mark Teagan for destruction.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/41741691-imagine-the-kiss" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3sOPBvk" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3sQZ7OG" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span><br /><br /><h2 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u>Read an Excerpt from Imagine the Kiss</u></span></h2><br /><div><h4 style="text-align: left;">Chapter One</h4></div><div>Teagan Whitloch Munroe was trembling. She was trembling, and she couldn’t stop. She’d been trembling for more than two hours—since she’d left the downtown Denver condominium she shared with her husband, Dr. Wilbert Munroe. What she’d seen inside the condo—in their bedroom—made her want to vomit. A cold knot of disgust and revulsion gripped her stomach.<br /><br /></div><div>When she’d walked into the master bedroom, she must’ve gasped. Will was lying on the bed, but he wasn’t alone. He’d lifted his head from the pillow. He looked right at her.<br /><br /></div><div>And swore.<br /><br /></div><div>He didn’t look surprised. He looked annoyed.<br /><br /></div><div>She’d pressed a hand over her mouth.<br /><br /></div><div>Blinded by tears, she’d backed into the doorjamb and stumbled into the hallway. She didn’t remember running out of the condo, but she must have. Her legs throbbed, and her chest ached. The only thing she remembered was her husband calling her name. What had he said? Let’s talk? She didn’t know if she should laugh or sob.<br /><br /></div><div>And she remembered the dulcet laughter of the naked woman who was servicing him in bed. Teagan’s and Will’s bed. Teagan had thought Ginny Andrews was her friend.<br /><br /></div><div>Some friend. Ginny who was svelte and toned. A contrast to Teagan who’d struggled with her weight since she was seven years old.<br /><br /></div><div>A shuddering breath rocked through Teagan’s lungs. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She wiped them away.<br /><br /></div><div>She barely remembered driving to the Crystal Creek Ranch, throwing a saddle on her favorite horse, Champagne, and racing through the meadows until she reached the aspen forest covering Crystal Peak.<br /><br /></div><div>Fighting against the despair that filled her, she wrapped shaky fingers around the reins and urged the Arabian horse through the trees bursting with spring green leaves. Her vision blurred, and she tried to focus on the pink wild roses and purple elephant’s head mingling with the green undergrowth. The splashes of Crystal Creek tumbling over rocks sounded next to the trail. It was happy and musical and far from the darkness that crowded her heart. Her stomach roiled and begged to be emptied of the half sandwich she’d eaten during the orchestral rehearsal that afternoon.<br /><br /></div><div>She ran her hand over the horse’s neck damp from perspiration.<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/05/99cents-deal-imagine-kiss-crystal-creek.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2iOYsLzp-uU-66IEa-PiXfgm0FyO77rtrmLPA0expHL1wrRBPqMmV5-q3-El-jitWUvIAF3xb6U6S7iVlYdR6Puu6JDBLNpZjCypo8SqP70PnNRY1AVEjOgXt32rIrs1Jrvu8NedZoOQXCcsal4LbThEylhl7XjUVavsaiJp5bTAPf0b8906R9Evm/w400-h400/Imagine%20the%20Kiss%201.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About the Author:</u></b></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhYS1Lmr8V2PhsYsaU-ROcKt_z29uAQ953fBoupZAieA3GI5aKB0sVK-jiRJNQM9f-8kye-OXoIkO4xZSEAXEsLmTrQVUPxOCdWUibYwrca8UlClT6NrX4Gzx7SyXQmWpkKk_AYmO0LlsDkupEEVeulpxw1vv8bUkOZCOguBYtcDUvUPt88GGdGcxFN" width="300" /></a></div>A native of California, Laura Haley-McNeil spent her youth studying ballet and piano, though her favorite pastime was curling up with a good book. Without a clue as to how to write a book, she knew one day she would.<br />After college, she segued into the corporate world, but she never forgot her love for the arts and served on the board of two community orchestras. Finally realizing that the book she’d dreamt of writing wouldn’t write itself, she planted herself in front of her computer. She now immerses herself in the lives and loves of her characters in her romantic suspense and her contemporary romance novels. Many years later, she lived her own romantic novel when she married her piano teacher, the love of her life.<br />Though she and her husband have left warm California for cooler Colorado, they enjoy the outdoor life of hiking, bicycling, horseback riding and snow skiing. They satisfy their love of music by attending concerts and hanging out with their musician friends, but Laura still catches a few free moments when she can sneak off and read. <br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Laura on the Web:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.laurahaleymcneil.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/LauraHaleyMcNeil/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/laurarmcneil" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.laurahaleymcneil.com/newsletter/" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></b></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><!-- start InLinkz code -->
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<!-- end InLinkz code -->Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-38297561137560199172022-05-19T00:00:00.016+05:302022-05-19T17:05:17.331+05:30#ReleaseDayBlitz :: Upon a Mistake (Il Cuore #1) by Shilpa Suraj - @shilpaauthor #Contemporary #Romance<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/05/once-upon-a-time.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-YN8teC0jAFrzFSVTbjlR3LRNjZnGlpStGXKQn12gyF5VFU5JWaHWHiEfrhFEoIwvUwz7l4Xhib4Yez97d5oa2fxD2WO5sCZIAhqpHVclqAtoLHBRitow0M7RCWj4NE9bdvD8c3GgAoGtcfZskGv73KK1Jq1c-l6lWi4n_6AeXIHLthA6Zl4QNxo/s16000/Once%20Upon%20a%20Mistake%20Banner.png" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><h3 style="text-align: center;">There are no second chances, only missed ones...</h3><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2396" data-original-width="1601" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEger43v_Vt2b4qdbkeKqghuYW8C4FMwpeumcCvroQbVTmpwMuddgBqqzj_ZG6pP1dF0CuuY62YEjL1TPbbqx55WKVJknKuTti5vN7-pwqFKh5yHIcXAY9gsKHamxiSuQShz1EVPIazEhryioqJk8Ozm46mnpZU31CL6ePUNr7Tn2L_eKj1ksEalXwAI/s320/Final-%20Once%20upon%20a%20mistake.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>Five years ago, an accident changed Maya's life forever. From an engaged, MBA graduate with her entire life in front of her, she'd ended up dumped, bedridden, and in enough debt to drown her and her family.<br />Five years ago, Yash had been looking forward to marrying the woman of his dreams. Then his father died, he lost his job and his fiancee dumped him over a text.<br />Neither have forgiven each other and neither has forgotten the other. When their paths cross at Il Couer, a vineyard owned by common friends, sparks fly, past hurts are stoked and present dreams are destroyed.<br />And that is just the beginning. As their lives get entangled, both professionally and personally, they find themselves fighting familial disapproval, professional jealousy, and a mutual attraction that threatens to burn them down.<br />Can Maya and Yash ever unravel their tangled past? And will the truth of their past define or destroy them? Can you build a future on a posioned past? They're about to find out...<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61114849-once-upon-a-mistake" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3wl2UWp" target="_blank">Amazon.in</a> * <a href="https://amzn.to/3MpETDd" target="_blank">Amazon.com</a></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><h1 style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u>Read an Excerpt from Once Upon A Mistake</u></span></h1><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Maya didn’t stop walking. Nor did she turn or give him any indication that she’d heard him. She just kept moving, as fast as she could, away from him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Maya.” Irritated, Yash caught her arm at the elbow, halting her headlong rush just as they turned a corner of the house and out of sight of the bonfire crowd. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The sudden jerk of his hand caused her weak leg to give out under her and she stumbled, hissing in pain. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Shit! Yash pulled his hand back immediately, feeling like the ass he’d behaved like. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“I am so sorry,” he said, leaning forward to help her regain her balance. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Maya swatted his hand away and got to her feet on her own steam. Her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving with the force of her emotions, she tossed her hair away from her face and looked at him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">All these years later, her beauty still took his breath away. Yash rubbed his chest, a silent gesture to try and soothe his aching heart. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“What do you want?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her. If he knew her, she was probably suppressing the urge to flip him off again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“I want to talk to you,” he said, leaning against the wall of the house behind him. From the distance, muted laughter floated back to them but here, in this moment, they were in a secluded bubble of their own. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“We don’t have anything to say to each other,” she tossed back, her angry eyes spitting darts at him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Yash wasn’t so sure about that. He thought they had a lot to say to each other. She especially had a lot to answer for. She’d called off their engagement without even an explanation! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He shook it off. This wasn’t about them. This was about his friend. This was about Yash being a good friend. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“I don’t know what the hell you and your friends are planning but please let the Thakkar family mourn in peace. For the duration of this weekend, just keep your heads down, don’t create any scenes and leave peacefully the minute this is over.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Maya stared at him, an inscrutable look on her face. And then she started to laugh. She clutched her stomach, tears streaming down her face as she laughed and laughed. Yash’s confusion grew as he watched, as did his anger. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“What’s so funny?” he asked. “I’m not joking. Aakash told me all about you lot and the kind of shit you get up to. Keep all of that out of this weekend and away from any member of their family. They don’t need it, alright? You’ve already taken one family member from them. Let’s not ruin another.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Even before the last word escaped his lips, shame swamped Yash in a tidal wave. What had he said? Shit! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Vikram’s death had been an accident. Everyone knew that. The car’s tyre had burst. A freak accident that no one could have predicted. And no matter what their group had gotten up to earlier that night, there was no doubt that Vikram had been a full and willing participant. Aakash may find it hard to think beyond his grief but surely Yash was better than that? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Maya’s laughter stopped like he’d slapped her. And in some ways, he supposed he had. He opened his mouth to apologise but nothing came out. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">They stared at each other in the enveloping darkness of the night. The only light, a dim yellow glow from the rear verandah of the house. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“So no orgies then?” she asked, huskily. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The word sent a jolt of desire through him as he stared at her lovely profile encased in that soft, faded yellow light.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Not funny,” he said, his voice hoarse. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Who’s joking?” She lifted her delicate shoulders in a tiny shrug. “We weren’t planning to invite any of you fuddy duddies of course.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “It’s not like you lot would be any fun in bed.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">His eyes dipped to her lips as she spoke, her words painting painfully arousing images in his head. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“Stop it, Maya.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">She pouted, one long finger reaching up to trace the low v neck of his soft, white kurta. Her nail scraped through the hair peeking out, sending arrows of heat shooting through him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">She brought her mouth close to his ear and whispered, “What if we promise to be very, very quiet?” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The hair on the back of Yash’s neck stood up even as his eyes fluttered close without volition. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">“So quiet, that you wouldn’t even know that in my head I would be screaming as I came, as orgasm after orgasm rolled through me…” <br /><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div><div><p><b style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-large;"><u>About the Author:</u></b></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZsqPboVWvYQ2ECtbQpwNOY94rQahKP1Zr9xNxMrjazqen-8PnT67LHpMvpc4BLZGvJLEaVslU3IBcANA02rMhoEbBjGpz4zmd-1IccEtS3SU4q6z1dVccFwi5BBPZ2cYnuBots5N44e-3lwvHXBSsRQTNwcUuQEWTOkcPp_U31JF12FpE-K8wUT53/w200-h200/Shilpa.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><br />Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />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.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Contact the Author:<br /></u></b></span></span><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><a href="http://shilpasuraj.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/shilpasuraj/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/shilpaauthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shilpa.suraj/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> * <a href="http://eepurl.com/dt-Br9" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></span></b></p></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><!-- start InLinkz code -->
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<!-- end InLinkz code -->Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-28391804565319503442022-05-16T00:00:00.004+05:302022-05-16T14:49:44.805+05:30#BookBloggers Sign Up to Host Imagine the Kiss by Laura Haley-McNeil - @laurarmcneil #CleanRomance #Contemporary #Suspense<h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;">Limited Period 99cents Deal!</span></h1><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/05/host-imagine-the-kiss.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1801" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRei3CsTkWqAa9DBRFJX_DQf2TOjE6rpyhyV5uZr2fQ8JWlGlc04l8bVolXADC7p9axTFdOss-bvxecJK2b3U8vBN2yG6_s65e5iZTH-GkS9Vegrfu9wmaHFoGLggJMAzQwJz1Z1cEcsr4WPpqzfKQ58qiOcl9fYdH4tm9eg7epfHWsjm2xIx67sxu/w426-h640/Imagine%20the%20kiss%20ebook%20cover%20get%20covers%201.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><h3 style="clear: both;">Two people open themselves to the truth and open themselves to each other.</h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Her marriage in ruins, violinist Teagan Whitloch Munroe escapes into her music and the solace she finds at the Crystal Creek Ranch. Practicing in the woods helps her piece together her life, but she isn’t alone. When she hears someone hiking nearby, she demands he reveal himself, but the only revelation she gets is a soothing voice that heals the pain in her heart.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Maimed by a crushing accident, the once famous architect Phineas St. Cyr protects the world from his disfigurement by sequestering himself in the woods on the Crystal Creek Ranch. When he hears the intoxicating strains from Teagan’s violin, he can’t resist the beauty that quiets his aching soul, and he yearns to know the woman who creates such beauty.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Teagan finds sanctuary in her friendship with this connoisseur of music, but soon realizes Phin’s hiding more than his hideous scars. As they become entangled with each other, Teagan is stunned to learn they share more than a love of music. They are caught in a web of deceit by someone threatening to reveal Phin’s secrets. His exposed past endangers Teagan, and he can no longer walk away. This time he must face the enemy determined to defeat him. He’ll fight to the finish to protect the woman he can never love. No price is too high to keep buried the secret that will mark Teagan for destruction.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Sign Up <a href="https://forms.gle/gq169DX44zgvK4Uv7" target="_blank">HERE</a>!</b></span><br /><br /><br /></div></div>Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-40293641534788716042022-05-12T00:00:00.008+05:302022-05-12T00:00:00.176+05:30#BookBloggers Sign Up to Host Vive La Résistance (Donovan Trait#3) by @SeelieKay - #Paranormal #Romance #Thriller<p></p><h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;">Release Day Blitz - May 27th, 2022</span></h1><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/05/host-Vive-La-Resistance.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="379" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vuh_PWeIGdSh9yPOWgOMfqGWE9tAvZLJNonheMep12j_jgAX7z9Pnfd9U1O7h2F3oVL4r2pdG0VUCEWQgPhAqEC5dr-UyQoKkXFZBDeVG9rGXQYMutjjILalXS8FBdpkAUcOzFkr_r6MPjCBiLmEqfplIys37Hxdm5xn0ZSSwaaMo2V6QcuYE3Eq/w428-h640/VLR.jpeg" width="428" /></a><br /><br /><h4 style="clear: both;">Things are gonna get messy…</h4><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">An illegal union, a banned birth, a Great Lie, and now, genocide. Vampire lawyer Donovan Trait and his wife, chemically-turned Judge Shirley Magnusen, are battling for their lives and the lives of their children. The Vampire Coalition wants them dead, but now the despots have also decided to expand their net, targeting any vampire whose blood is mixed with human or Were. Half-bloods are already treated like dirt by the Vampire Nation. They have been subjected to centuries of discrimination and cruelty at their hands. As the Coalition embarks on a campaign of terror, destruction, and slaughter, millions of half-bloods emerge from the shadows, ready and willing to reclaim their place in the Vampire Nation. The problem is, war cannot be unleashed out in the open in the human world, battles must be fought in other ways. Even with an island of highly-skilled vampire nuns and a few Weres and humans at that their side, it appears the Traits may be fighting an unwinnable war. Their only option may be to sacrifice their own lives in the hopes of setting all other half-bloods free.<br /><br /><br /><h3><span style="color: red;">Sign Up <a href="https://forms.gle/pLYgXp4xQoztUxBa6" target="_blank">HERE</a>!</span></h3></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div>Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6694739535592087418.post-53938029064385746322022-05-11T00:30:00.000+05:302022-05-11T17:45:37.555+05:30#BookBloggers Sign Up to Host Once Upon a Mistake (Il Cuore #1) by @shilpaauthor - #Contemporary #Romance<h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;">Release Day Blitz - 19th May, 2022</span></h1><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/2022/05/host-once-upon-a-mistake.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2396" data-original-width="1601" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0i5xex9v38RFPJ-nvHdXbMnO_QJlckNVHt1NDBCWNpuzp1qFMJY7WBkdp0T9I3yJvkxmTa7oL0aDEg3E7qaY4FXOCgrdN3iQIoDn2GxJitnTIDrW1F2229-UXHMBG5fdDzPRDtGKZTViwZrIW6RJPjZK685OCNNZy-9Bg13D32QdJYijHBX7k2IOj/w428-h640/Final-%20Once%20upon%20a%20mistake.jpg" width="428" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><h4 style="clear: both;">There are no second chances, only missed ones...</h4><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Five years ago, an accident changed Maya's life forever. From an engaged, MBA graduate with her entire life in front of her, she'd ended up dumped, bedridden, and in enough debt to drown her and her family.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Five years ago, Yash had been looking forward to marrying the woman of his dreams. Then his father died, he lost his job and his fiancee dumped him over a text.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Neither have forgiven each other and neither has forgotten the other. When their paths cross at Il Couer, a vineyard owned by common friends, sparks fly, past hurts are stoked and present dreams are destroyed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And that is just the beginning. As their lives get entangled, both professionally and personally, they find themselves fighting familial disapproval, professional jealousy, and a mutual attraction that threatens to burn them down.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Can Maya and Yash ever unravel their tangled past? And will the truth of their past define or destroy them? Can you build a future on a posioned past? They're about to find out...<br /><br /><br /><h3><span style="color: red;">Sign Up <a href="https://forms.gle/jrAV1fXqwyznSUM37" target="_blank">HERE</a>!</span></h3></div></div><p><br /></p>Book Review Tourshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04433322484788904822noreply@blogger.com0