Faced with a loveless marriage, Ananya Rajput does what she always does when faced with a tough situation - she runs away!
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.
His Highness Yashvardhan Rathore, Yuvarajkumar of Bannor, is so going to burn in hell.
Not only did he help his dead friend’s sister run away from her wedding mandap, he now has terribly inappropriate feelings for her.
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.
As her restless feet get calmer, the walls around his heart get higher.
Will Yash ever come to trust in love?
And will Ananya let her reluctant Prince Charming claim a runaway bride?

To find out read the third book in the Devgarh Royal series.

Book Links:
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Excerpts from The Prince and the Runaway Bride

An astrologer once told my grandmother that a girl would be my downfall.

      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.

      “Are you sure you want to do this, Ananya?” I asked for the third time.

      She turned around to glare at me.

      “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.

      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.”

What does a lifestyle guru do when her life starts to fall apart?

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.
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.
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.
The gifts keep arriving, escalating from roses to far more sinister things…each with an intimate note hinting at a personal agenda. But whose?
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.
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.
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.
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.

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Read an Excerpt from All Kinds of Wrong

“Why?” she asked her big sister, bewildered. “Why is this happening? I’m really not the sort to inspire grand passion.” 

“Oh you inspire tons of passion, sweetheart,” Avinash said, humorously. “Just not the sort that you’d normally expect.” 

She glared at him. He smiled back, blandly. 

“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.” 

“Like what?” she asked, numbly. 

“Why don’t you give me a little information on the neighbours you’ve interacted with?” 

She stared at him, blankly. 

“Right,” he muttered. “I forgot. You don’t do relationships.” 

“She does acquaintances though,” Aria butted in. “Don’t you, Als?” 

Alia stared at her. “What does that even mean?” 

“What do you know about your neighbours, Als?” Aria sighed. 

“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.” 

“Great,” Avinash sat down in front of her, nodding encouragingly. “What else did you notice?”

“He looks a lot like his mongrel.” 

Avinash blinked. “Jeez, you’re a piece of work,” he said with a soft laugh. 

“He does,” Alia insisted. “I’ll show you.” 

“Okay.” He held his hands up in a gesture of peace. “Who else did you notice?” 

“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.” 

Avinash was scribbling on a little notepad he’d produced out of thin air. 

“Oh and then there is the serial killer,” she said, snapping her fingers in the air. 

Avinash froze. “Excuse me?” 

“Gotcha,” Alia giggled. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” 

“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.” 

“A real gem,” Avinash agreed drily. 

“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.” 

Aria stifled a smile when Avinash shot her a look. 

“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.” 

“A very good clue,” Avinash said. 

“And then there is the eighty-year-old man in the wheelchair who forced himself on me in the elevator.” 

“What?” Avinash snapped to attention. 

“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.” 

“And what did you do?” Aria asked, aghast.

“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.” 

Aria and Avinash just stared at her. 

“What?” she demanded. 

“Nothing,” Avinash said, faintly. “I just finally understand why you don’t do relationships.” 

About the Author:

Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.

An avid reader with an overactive imagination, Shilpa has weaved stories in her head since she was a child. Her previous stints at Google, in an ad agency and as an entrepreneur provide colour to her present day stories, both fiction and non-fiction.

Contact the Author:
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One is a brave soldier, the other a deadly terrorist. A camera will decide which man survives.

A moment of passion, a devastating scandal and a marriage between sworn enemies...

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Read an Excerpt from Once Upon a Scandal

She blinked at him. 

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. 

“Are you insane?” 

Five seconds. Well, it was five priceless seconds. He grinned. 

“What are you smiling about, you lunatic?” Kanak gaped at him. 

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. 

“Can we sit down?” he asked, gesturing to the lumpy sofa in the corner. It looked well worn, well loved, and rather well manhandled. 

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. 

“Oh,” Kanak mumbled. “That’s where that was.” 

“Of course,” Aakash replied, drily. “That’s where everyone stores their sharp objects. Under the cushions of their sofa.” 

Kanak just stared blankly at the back scratcher he handed her. And then…

“I need some wine,” she said, abruptly. 

“It’s only six in the evening.” 

Kanak stopped midstride and looked at him over her shoulder. “You just asked me to marry you.” 

Aakash considered that. “Bring two glasses.”

“I’m bringing the whole fucking bottle,” she informed him before marching over to the fridge. 

About the Author:

Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.

An avid reader with an overactive imagination, Shilpa has weaved stories in her head since she was a child. Her previous stints at Google, in an ad agency and as an entrepreneur provide colour to her present day stories, both fiction and non-fiction.

Contact the Author:
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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.


Book Links:
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Read an Excerpt from Vive La Résistance

Donovan shifted on the lounger and muttered incomprehensively, then he emitted a rumbling snore.

“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.”

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.

“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.

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.

“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.”

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.

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. 

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.

 About Seelie Kay:

Award-winning author Seelie Kay writes about lawyers in love, sometimes with a dash of kink.

Writing under a nom de plume, the former lawyer and journalist draws her stories from more than 30 years in the legal world. Seelie’s wicked pen has resulted in nineteen works of fiction, including the new paranormal romance series Donovan Trait, as well the erotic romance Kinky Briefs series and The Feisty Lawyers romantic suspense series. She also authored The Last Christmas, The Garage Dweller, A Touchdown to Remember, The President’s Wife, The President’s Daughter, Seizing Hope, The White House Wedding, and participated in the romance anthology Pieces of Us.

When not spinning romantic tales, Seelie ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other professionals. Currently, she resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, WI, where she enjoys opera, the Green Bay Packers, gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine. 

Seelie is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS: Never give up. You define MS, it does not define you!

Seelie on the Web:
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Two people open themselves to the truth and open themselves to each other.

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.
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.
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.

Book Links:
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Read an Excerpt from Imagine the Kiss

Chapter One

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.

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.

And swore.

He didn’t look surprised. He looked annoyed.

She’d pressed a hand over her mouth.

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.

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.

Some friend. Ginny who was svelte and toned. A contrast to Teagan who’d struggled with her weight since she was seven years old.

A shuddering breath rocked through Teagan’s lungs. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She wiped them away.

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.

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.

She ran her hand over the horse’s neck damp from perspiration.

About the Author:

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.
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.
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. 

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