Devika Fernando's Blog, page 32

Featured - Spotlight & Excerpt - "Wide Awake Asleep" by Louise Wise

About the Book ‘Past events can be changed but one must be careful of how one does it because it’ll impact on the rest of one’s life.’—Dáire Quin, Modify your Destiny if you Must, 2003

No one saw Julie’s car leave the road, no one saw her crash into the watery ditch, no one saw the gnarled tree branch pierce through the window screen and impale her to her seat.
No one heard her screams.
Yet, this was the beginning of Julie’s life.

Julie Compton, is a forty-something woman, striving for success in a male dominated business world. She thinks she’s made it. She thinks she has it all. Trouble is, her destiny has been travelling in the wrong direction and Julie is now forced to relive her life by occupying people’s bodies from her past in a time-travel, paranormal adventure.

For readers who enjoyed books like 'The Time Traveler's Wife' and 'The Lovely Bones'.
 
Universal link: http://bookShow.me/B01N2QW3VX
 
UK link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Wide-Awake-Asleep-where-expect-ebook/dp/B01N2QW3VX/ref=sr_1_7?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1481118398&sr=1-7&keywords=louise+wise
 
America link: https://www.amazon.com/Wide-Awake-Asleep-where-expect-ebook/dp/B01N2QW3VX/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1481118460&sr=8-4&keywords=louise+wise
​ Excerpt Excerpt from WIDE AWAKE ASLEEP – a paranormal, time travel romance.
 
Disorientated, I looked around at my surroundings. I had the strange feeling that I wasn’t here at all. I thought I heard a voice, and I cocked my head, but it was carried away on a gust of wind. The feeling of hands touching my body subsided and I was left in this paradox universe where I was me inside someone else’s body.
I looked down at myself and the first thing I saw was a plaid skirt, and thick tights, which sagged at the knees and ankles.
My heart began to beat in horror. No, no. Please, God, no.
My hands touched the stained cardigan over my large droopy breasts. Up further to my face…
My hands recoiled.
I felt a moustache!
I gasped in horror. I was ‘Auntie’ Iris Grimshaw!
It was bad enough being goofy Sarah Marshall, but now I had a moustache! And a bloody monobrow!
Iris began to walk, and I felt a sharp pain in my hip. I slowed, but the pain persisted. It shot down my left leg every time my foot touched the ground. No wonder the old sod was grouchy.
​
About the Author ​Bio:
Louise Wise is a British author. She lives in the Midlands with her husband and four sons, and works as a pharmacy technician.

Her debut novel is the acclaimed sci-fi romance EDEN, which was followed by its sequel HUNTED in 2013.
 
Her other works include A PROPER CHARLIE (romantic comedy), OH NO, I’VE FALLEN IN LOVE! (dark, comedy romance), and SCRUFFY TRAINERS (a collection of short stories). She has written numerous short stories for women’s magazines including Women’s Own and Take a Break.
 
Her latest novel, WIDE AWAKE ASLEEP, is out December 16th 2016 and available for pre-order. In this novel, she has mixed time travel and romance with her on-going theme of isolation and loneliness.
 
Links:
 
Website: http://louisewise.website
Email: wiselouise@gmail.com
Books: http://amzn.to/1Ne7KX0

Happy New Year - Inspiring Poem

It's Time It’s time, the stars will realign
Please stay strong, you’re going to be fine
Don’t doubt yourself, don’t wait for a sign
It’s now, claim this moment, say you’re mine
 
It’s time, take a leap of faith
To sink the ship you need to bite the bait
Don’t waver, put an end to the long wait
You’ve been ready for so long, don’t hesitate
 
It’s time, sound the bugle and hunt
Face the music, jump and master the stunt
Don’t weaken, push onwards with a grunt
Let your light shine, refuse to be shunned
 
It’s time, take to the stage and act
You’re unique and invincible, it’s a fact
Take a breath, brace yourself for impact
You’ll receive what you willingly attract
 
It’s time, every end is also a new start
This is your opportunity to prove you’re smart
Aim for the bull’s-eye when you throw your dart
You hold the reins, don’t let them pull your cart
 
It’s time, I can sense change in the air
Your chance will come, use it fair and square
Struggle on, even if you’re a little worse for wear
It’s an endless circle, there’s hope everywhere
 
It’s time, the wheel of fortune turns
Shine brighter, feed the flame that burns
Listen to your heart as it dreams and yearns
Keep your mind alert as it longs and learns
 
It’s time, carpe diem, seize the day
You’ll pull through in the end, come what may
Walk on with courage, and find your own way
Let the wind of change blow and carry you away
 
It’s time, things will never be the same
Play your hand, don’t give up on winning the game
Leave behind all the sorrow, guilt, fear and shame
This is your destiny to tame and your life to claim
 
© Devika Fernando

Flashback on 2016: Books & Friends

​Flashback 2016
 
For many of us, 2016 didn’t just fly by, but also brought a lot of sadness and shocks. I want to use this post to focus on some good things that happened to me in 2016, and to be grateful for having made it through another year.
 
In March, I published my 2nd international romance novel Seduced in Spain. It was another small dream come true, as I had always wanted to use Spain as a setting. I fell in love with the hero along the way (though Daniel from Saved in Sri Lanka appealed to me even more). This novel was all about second chances and being strong without losing all your vulnerability.
 
I used this year to try out another sub-genre (besides paranormal romance, romantic suspense and interracial romance): royal romance. It was a challenge but also wonderful to write. I had the chance to create my own kingdoms, using real countries as inspiration. And immersing myself in all the royal grandeur, swooning over modern-day princes and writing some of my strongest heroines to date was amazing. Book 1 (The Prince’s Special Bride) came out in July, Book 2 (The Prince’s Stubborn Bride) released in October, and I finished writing and editing Book 3 (The Prince’s Surprise Bride) too. It will release end of January, so I can carry a bit of 2016’s magic into the new year.
 
As usual, I wrote a few poems too. You can read one here. The others were posted on Facebook.
 
On a non-writing side, I also made many new friends online and had some lovely offline encounters with amazing people this year. First, I met a school friend from Germany whom I hadn’t seen in 10 years – and we had a lovely time, sharing old memories and making new ones. Then, throughout the year, I had the chance to welcome 3 visitors from India here (all of them not only wonderful Facebook friends but also writers). I’m hoping 2017 will bring many more visitors – especially as my husband and I are planning to finish and open our B&B.
 
Last but not least, I read a zillion books. Here are ten great ones that left a lasting impression (many others did too).

Escape from Sudan (Lust, Money & Murder, Book 9) by Mike WellsPrince Lestat by Anne RiceCrown Prince’s Chosen Bride by Kandy ShepherdA Vow to Secure His Legacy by Annie WestLong Way Home by Susanne BellamyA Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled HosseiniKnitted Tales by Rubina RameshScavenger’s Mission by Liza O’ConnorThe Collector by Nora RobertsSecond Chance at Forever by Summerita Rhayne  
Here’s wishing that 2017 will also be filled with books and friends. Happy New Year!

Featured - My Review for "His Drunken Wife" by Sundari Venkatraman

My Review"His Drunken Wife" is the second book in the 5-novella series "Marriages Made in India", and I liked it enough to check out the other books too.
 
This is the author’s first try at writing a novella that is decidedly hotter than her contemporary romance novels. Regarding its style, it reminded me a little of her romantic suspense novel "An Autograph for Anjali", mostly due to its brevity, its succinct language and its daring foray into an area not too many Indian romance novelists touch.
 
I had already caught glimpses of Shikha and Abhimanyu in Sundari Venkatraman’s novel "The Runaway Bridegroom", so they felt nicely familiar. But I think that even if you haven’t ‘met’ them before, you’re pulled right into their lives and will find them authentic and entertaining. Hot-headed, red-blooded Shikha is a real whirlwind that quiet, suave yet confident Abhi sets out to tame. It isn’t an easy feat, but his love for her helps both of them. I found it interesting to see the heroine and not the hero deal with an addiction for a change. The reasons for her alcohol problems are revealed later in the book and make the story more credible. As for Abhi, he makes a gorgeous hero, and I can see why these two match so well.
 
This is a novella, so get ready for a very short but also very satisfying ride (pardon the pun). There’s a lot of steam and sexiness going on, but nicely woven into a well-constructed plot. If you’re looking for a quick fix that can be read in one go and is like a tasty, very spicy bite that makes you long for a full meal of Indian temperament and temptation, then this is the right choice. I’m sure I’ll enjoy Book 1 (Her Smitten Husband) too.
 
Rating: 4/5
​Spotlight


HIS DRUNKEN WIFE(Marriages Made in India Book #2)bySundari Venkatraman


Blurb
The badass Shikha is startled when the nerdy Abhimanyu proposes marriage. She loves... herself, and Abhimanyu doesn't figure on her list anywhere. For Abhimanyu, however, it was love at first sight when Shikha walked into RS Software, where the two of them work. 
When Abhimanyu shows her that he just might be rich enough for her, a pleasantly surprised Shikha accepts his marriage proposal and moves into his swanky apartment. 
But it looks like the love is all from only Abhi’s side as Shikha continues to drink herself crazy. Yeah, even at their wedding party. 
And then Abhi sets out on a honeymoon to Thailand with His Drunken Wife... 
*MARRIAGES MADE IN INDIA is a five-novella series that revolves around the characters you have met in The Runaway Bridegroom.

Read an excerpt from #HDW
It was at least another half an hour before Shikha returned to the party. She directly walked up to her husband and kissed him on his masculine lips. “Forgive me?” 
Abhi pulled her close, kissing her deeply. “Always.”
“Did I tell you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to me?” she whispered in his ear, nipping at his earlobe. 
“Shikha,” growled Abhi, “Are you even aware of what you’re doing to me? Position yourself in front of me till I gain control or I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”
Shikha gave a tinkling laugh, her hand on his fly, tracing his shape delightedly. “How did I ever imagine you were a staid guy?”
Abhi groaned. “Take your hand off, woman. Please!”
Shikha laughed again, kissing him. “How I love to hear you beg.” She winked at him. 
She turned right around and got a waiter to get her another drink, much to Abhi’s chagrin. “Will you lay off the drink, Shikha?” he frowned. 
“Why? You can’t afford it or what?” she challenged him, a shapely eyebrow up in query, sherry brown eyes dancing. 
“You’ve already had four large pegs.”
“You’ve been counting.” The smile left her face.
“Do you plan to get drunk?”
“Arre yaar, Abhi! It’s our wedding, a once-in-a-lifetime event. I’m only celebrating. Give me a break,” she protested. 
“The way you’ve been knocking down the drinks, anyone would think that you’re in pain rather than celebrating.”

Grab your copy @

Amazon.com | Amazon.in | 
Amazon.co.uk | Amazon.com.au | 
Amazon.ca

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About the author


Sundari Venkatraman
His Drunken Wife is the ninth book authored by Sundari Venkatraman. This is a hot romance and is Book #2 of the 5-novella series titled Marriages Made in India; Book #1 being The Smitten Husband. Other published novels by the author are The Malhotra Bride, Meghna, The Runaway Bridegroom, The Madras Affair and An Autograph for Anjali—all romances. She also has a collection of romantic short stories called Matches Made in Heaven; and a collection of human interest stories called Tales of Sunshine. All of Sundari Venkatraman’s books are on Amazon Top 100 Bestsellers in India, USA, UK, Canada & Australia under both #romance & #drama categories.
Books by the author




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Featured - Book Club Spotlight for "Shadowed Promise" by Sunanda Chatterjee

SHADOWED PROMISE
From riots in Bombay to the riches of Beverly hills...bySunanda Chatterjee


Blurb
Moyna’s cousin panted at the doorway, heavy with child. “Who did this to you?” her father shouted. And Moyna knew that somehow she would be blamed for this unspeakable shame on the family. Her aunt blamed her for all the tragedies, from the death of Moyna’s own parents to the riots in Bombay. But, as her cousin lay dying of stab wounds, Moyna promised to protect the baby.
In a panic, eighteen-year-old Moyna made a hasty decision that would return to haunt her years later. 
Bullied as a child, Sameer wants to make the world a safer place.  He has spurned a cushy career in his father’s law firm for public service. Sameer is drawn to the mysterious Moyna when they meet in Los Angeles. The attraction seems mutual, but Moyna remains cautious and secretive about her past, insulating herself from love to protect others from her unlucky curse.
At the cusp of political victory, Sameer faces increasing gun violence and death threats leading to an FBI investigation. But his greatest challenge comes when a shadow from Moyna’s past threatens to destroy their future.
What hope do they have with the media hungering for a scandal?
A story of friendship, redemption, and forgiveness, “Shadowed Promise” is a journey from blind faith to triumphant love.

Read an excerpt of #SP here:


Sameer chased after Moyna as she opened the side-door to the stairwell. When the door nearly swung shut, he stuck in his foot and opened it again. She had already reached the landing, so he took the stairs two at a time. “Moyna, I wanted to say congratulations!”Her face glowed in the cardinal and gold graduation gown. A low pony swung below the cap, the tassels of which hung at her cheek. She looked happy. She smiled at him, for a moment, without holding back. Her smile was dazzling in its brilliance. Why didn’t she smile more?She said, “Was that all you wanted?”He grinned. You have no idea what I want! “I was thinking… now that you’ve graduated, maybe we can take this to the next level.”She stared at him. “Sameer, I have a lot of baggage. There are things about my past… I can never tell you.”“I don’t care about the past. I want to know if there’s any hope of a future for us.”She sighed, a sorrowful, regretful sigh that turned his heart cold, as if she had slapped him on his face. She would never let him into her heart. But she said, “You’ll never be satisfied with what I can offer.”You’ve offered me nothing before! He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “As long as you’re giving me all you can offer. Moyna, you have no idea what you make me feel. Just be with me. With time, you’ll trust me enough to let me into that wonderful heart of yours.”She stared with those hypnotic eyes. Her lip trembled a little. And he had no doubt she felt the same way. He drew her closer, held her face, and pressed his lips to hers, as her cap fell to the floor.Her lips felt petal soft against his, her arms on his back felt like chains from which he never wanted freedom. His hands roved over her neck and back and came to rest on her hips. The smell of her perfume, her breath, the feel of her skin against his, intoxicated him.Above and below them, footsteps of students echoed in the stairwell. He hungered for breath, but couldn’t let go. She seemed to melt in his arms as she clung to him, teasing his hair, and raking his back.When she pulled away, he wondered what year it was.She was panting.He watched his reflection dance in her eyes and it felt so right. That’s all he wanted. Her image in his eyes, and his in hers. Nothing else mattered. “I … I think I’m in love with you.”He felt her stiffen as she took a step back. Did I say something wrong? Her expression was inexplicable. Her lips trembled, her eyes moistened, and it seemed that every fiber of her body wanted to be with him.And yet he heard her saying, “I can’t do this!” She turned away and darted down the corridor toward her room.He chased after her and grabbed her wrist. “I don’t understand. Is there someone else?”She whirled around to face him, eyes wild with panic. “What? Yes. Yes, there’s someone else!”She tried to wrench her hand free, but he tightened his grip. “Who? Karan? How come I’ve never met him?”She stopped struggling. “You’ll never understand. Please, Sameer, I can’t be with you. Walk away from me. For your own good. It’s best for both of us.”“I don’t believe it.” He jabbed his finger at the stairwell. “Just a minute ago you were kissing me. Tell me it meant nothing to you!”“Stop!”He saw a sparkle of tears in her eyes and his face softened. “Moyna, look into my eyes and tell me you don’t love me.”She didn’t say anything. He wrapped her into a powerful embrace and kissed her, tasting the tears on her cheeks. He shivered as her hands snaked below his arms and ran up his back, hooking around his shoulders; she clung to him, and their bodies molded into each other.He felt the warmth of her breath, her skin, and her flesh, and knew he never wanted to be with anyone else. After a moment’s hesitation, she kissed him back, sending his head spinning.He lifted her off her feet with ease and pinned her against the wall. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nipped at his lips, as his hand found her breast. Control was out of the question. The fire of that raw desire burnt any logic he had left. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.And then she struggled out of his embrace. A sharp pain pierced through his numbed consciousness when she stamped on his shoe with her three inch heel. He winced and hopped on one foot.Panting, she glared at him and scrubbed her mouth. Then she pushed against him with both her hands, her eyes brimming with angry tears. “You arrogant, presumptuous, selfish bastard! Just because you’ve never been refused anything in your life, you think you can go about taking what’s not yours.”Confused, he frowned and took a step toward her as she backed into the wall. “But you’re mine, Moyna!”She gave a scornful laugh. “Your wealth means nothing to me. Your beauty means nothing to me. You’ll never be like Karan. Karan was brave, noble and selfless. You’re nothing!”Sameer stepped back, his mind in turmoil. She hates me. Her dalliance with him had been a farce. The last three years had been a lie. He rubbed his forehead, stunned. “Wh…”She yelled in a shaking voice, “Do you hear me? You mean nothing to me! Leave me alone.”
He clenched his fists, turned on his heel, and walked away, his steps booming in the quiet corridor, as his future with her vanished into oblivion.
Grab your copy @
Amazon USA | Amazon India | Amazon UK

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About the author


Freelance author, blogger, and ex-Indian Air Force physician Sunanda Joshi Chatterjee completed her graduate studies in Los Angeles, where she is a practicing pathologist. While medicine is her profession, writing is her passion. When she’s not at the microscope making diagnoses, she loves to write fiction. Her life experiences have taught her that no matter how different people are, their desires, fears, and challenges remain the same.
Her themes include romantic sagas, family dramas, immigrant experience, women’s issues, medicine, and spirituality. She loves extraordinary love stories and heartwarming tales of duty and passion. Her short stories have appeared in short-story.net and induswomanwriting.com. 
She grew up in Bhilai, India, and lives in Arcadia, California with her husband and two wonderful children. In her free time, she paints, reads, sings, goes on long walks, and binge-watches TV crime dramas.

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Featured - Book Blitz for "The Dog with the Golden Eyes" by L.M. Kay

About the Book​Genre: Children's Fiction > Action & Adventure > Mysteries & Detectives
Release Date: December 2016

Nicholas James Corrigan is a small boy who doesn’t speak. One day he meets a strange dog and discovers they can understand each other's thoughts. Nicholas James was a key witness to a crime when he was little and now The Man Who Did the Very Bad Thing is back and looking for him. Can his faithful new friend protect him? There’s only one way to find out!
 
BUY LINKS
Available in both kindle and paperback!
AMAZON UK
AMAZON US
​
About the AuthorL M Kay is a pen-name of Lesley Tither, who also writes adult crime fiction under the pen-name L M Krier. She lives in France with her two border collies, Fleur and Rosie.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LMKayBooks/   
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1450797141836111/
​
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A Christmas Surprise for my Readers ('Saved in Sri Lanka' bonus scene)

A few weeks ago, I asked readers to vote which couple they would like to see in a Christmas scene I wanted to write. Sepalika and Daniel from my international romance novel Saved in Sri Lanka won hands-down. So here they are. Merry early Christmas to my loyal readers!
(You can read this scene even if you haven't read the book yet. It's (mostly) spoiler-free. Buy links for the novel are here.)
​ ​Christmas Surprise
 
Sepalika cranked up the volume and sang along to her favorite Christmas tune, Last Christmas by Wham. Smiling softly to herself, she moved around the kitchen to get bowls and other utensils ready.
Although Sri Lanka was a Buddhist country, there was no way of escaping the festive season here. The Portuguese, the Dutch and the English had all left their traditions behind those days, and with the conquest of the internet, Christmas had permeated every nook and cranny of the island now. Not just the Christians living here enjoyed the festive spirit, but also others. Every supermarket and hotel, every restaurant and shop put up decoration. Christmas carols in various languages blared out of speakers from morning until evening. There were discounts and special offers all around, and on December 1st, crackers sounded the first alert that the holiday season had commenced.
Sepalika might be Buddhist, but her years in England had made her fall in love with the Christmas spirit, with its joy of giving and sharing, its incomparable music and sweet delights. And now that Daniel was a part of her life, the holiday season had taken on even more meaning.
Her smile widened when she thought of her lovely Irishman and the surprise she was about to prepare for him.
She carried a big bowl to the kitchen island and slowly lifted the cover. The bowl was filled with raisins, grated apples, the juice and rind of oranges and lemons, almond flakes, finely chopped cherries and peels. She had mixed them with brown sugar, spices like cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger, as well as a few spoonfuls of imported Irish whiskey which had cost her a small fortune.
This was her first time of preparing Irish Christmas pudding, and she was eager to get it right. Daniel had soaked up all his impressions of the festive season in Sri Lanka, joking good-naturedly that the sunshine and high temperatures were a nice preparation for the blazing heat of Christmas down under that they were going to tackle next year.
Making sure the mixture was just right, Sepalika cut open a packet of breadcrumbs and checked the recipe on her phone.
Thinking of Australia took her back to the time when she had met Daniel. He had been a tourist in one of her groups, the first Irishman she’d ever encountered here. The couple of weeks in Sri Lanka had been his time-out between jobs before taking up a lecturing position at a university in Melbourne. Life had thrown him off course, though. Or should she say love? It had hit them both out of the blue and turned their worlds upside down.
Once they had overcome a dozen obstacles—which had taken them a few months—Daniel had happily ditched his Australian job and come back here to join her. He had followed her around on a few tours until he had found a teaching job at the British Council in Colombo. Although history and not English was his métier, he made for an excellent teacher. She knew first-hand, as she had been unable to resist sitting in on a lesson or two and glowing with pride.
Carefully, Sepalika stirred the breadcrumbs through the alcohol-soaked, sweetened fruit mix. She used the blender to mix salt, eggs, flour and butter together. Hopefully, the television upstairs would drown out the sound of the blender. She wanted to surprise Daniel with the Irish dessert. Surely he was missing his home, the snow and the soothing sense of familiarity.
Yesterday, on Christmas Eve, she had taken Daniel to a midnight mass at the St. Anthony’s Church in Mount Lavinia, which had been a new and rather exhilarating experience for both of them. Then they had allowed themselves the luxury of a grand Christmas dinner at the Mount Lavinia Hotel—the place where Daniel had stayed when she had met him as the tour guide.
Humming to the tune, Sepalika added the flour mixture to her fruit concoction and used a spoonful of milk to make things as moist as they should be.
She could hardly concentrate on the task of mixing everything thoroughly when her thoughts went back to last evening. Daniel had worn a neat dark gray suit, a white button-down-shirt and a dark red tie, color-matching it with her red midi-dress with sequins and lace trim. He’d looked good enough to eat, and stood out among everyone else. Even in a crowd of tourists from all around the globe mingling with affluent locals in sarees, gowns and formal wear, her tall, reddish-blonde Irishman had drawn attention—especially female attention. He’d recently taken to growing a goatee-like ginger scruff, well-groomed and scratching her soft skin enticingly whenever he rubbed his face against her.
He’d had eyes only for her, taking a dozen photos of her, a couple selfie in front of the creative Christmas tree in the lobby—which consisted entirely of tropical plants and red anthurium flowers—and more selfies with her on the pool terrace with its sparkling lights, as well as in the festively decked-out Governor’s Restaurant with its LED-lit ice sculptures. Then they had enjoyed the lavish buffet to a backdrop of live piano music.
They had walked around the hotel’s premises after dinner, sometimes stopped by acquaintances from her tour-guide days greeting her awkwardly, at other times attracting stares because Daniel spontaneously pulled her close to sway and dance to a timeless Christmas tune.
Sepalika smiled again, softly singing “last Christmas, I gave you my heart…” and sending a silent prayer upwards that this Christmas was so much better than last year’s.
With a grimace, she realized she was stirring a bit too harshly because of the dark memories. Sepalika forced her thoughts back to the present. She felt a blush creep up when she remembered her heated kisses with Daniel late last night—or make that early this morning. Adorable dork that he was, he had ordered an artificial mistletoe online and hung it above the kitchen door at home, (not so) accidentally bumping into her during the past few days so he could claim a kiss.
Home was, for now, a rented two-story apartment in a new housing scheme in Mount Lavinia. Her mother lived with them. It had taken her some time to overcome her mortification over Sepalika’s somewhat scandalous behavior, but she had finally warmed to the new man in her daughter’s life.
Sepalika smiled to herself. How could one not warm to Daniel? He was kind and attentive to a fault, honest and cultured, intelligent and funny. He had charmed his way right into her mother’s heart by learning a few words and phrases in Sinhalese, buying her pastries from the bakery across the road, and taking her to the beach and making her giggle like a shy school girl.
She had quickly found out just how fond of her “Dan putha” her mother had grown when the two of them conspired against her and organized a surprise whale-watching trip to Mirissa. It had culminated in the most romantic proposal she could have imagined, Daniel going down on one knee in the sand. He’d asked her mother to teach him a few meaningful lines in Sinhalese to propose, and Sepalika had dissolved into happy tears right there on the beach.
Looking at the slender white-gold wedding band on her ring finger with a diamond and Irish engraving, Sepalika sniffled quietly to herself before her mouth stretched into the widest smile yet.
She hadn’t been keen on a big wedding, for several reasons, so they had kept it low-key. Less than 50 guests had been invited to the party held at the charming Horizon Holiday Home perched high on the Kandyan hilltops. Among them had been her relatives from the small village near Kandy, her friend Deepak from India who’d studied in London with her and remained in regular contact throughout the years, and an artist friend of Daniel’s who had flown in all the way from Ireland. They had tied the knot in style and with simple charm, Sepalika dressed in an off-white saree embroidered with pearls and crystals, while Daniel wore a black three-piece-suit and looked so handsome he could be mistaken for a Hollywood star.
The wedding had been two months ago, and they had decided against a honeymoon because she was getting around the island all the time anyway, and because their budget was rather limited these days.
“Focus, girl, or your surprise will be a disaster that needs to be drowned in whiskey,” she scolded herself softly.
The song on the radio had changed to a Sinhalese version of Silent Night, and Sepalika checked the recipe on the phone again.
She gave the mixture one last stir and closed the lid tightly. Placing the bowl in big a saucepan of water, she switched the gas cooker on and waited for it to start boiling. Once the first bubbles had surfaced, she reduced the heat to let the pudding simmer and covered the saucepan.
Today’s late lunch—because they had slept in and then made love before blissfully dozing off again—would consist of vegetable fried rice, chicken curry in a spicy gravy, deep-fried fish in batter, mild dhal curry, a mixed salad and crispy papadums. They had bought rich Christmas cake and mango ice cream for dessert, but she couldn’t wait to see Daniel’s face when he discovered her little surprise later.
Sepalika glanced at the stove. The pudding would simmer for several hours, and by that time they should have enough free space in their stomachs to appreciate it properly. She scrolled until she found the recipe for the brandy sauce and fresh cream which would accompany the Christmas pudding.
Softly singing along to another Sinhalese Christmas carol, she let her mind wander to the future. Daniel had suggested they should stay in Sri Lanka for some more months, saving as much money as they could and giving her mother a chance to adjust to all the changes. Next year, they would try to find jobs in Australia, and if they liked it there and were in a better financial situation, they could ask her mother to join them.
Much had changed in Sri Lanka after the government change, but she still felt restless and not really at home. No, she corrected herself in her head, she had a home now, but it wasn’t a location per se, it was by Daniel’s side. She was looking forward to their adventurous stint down under, although a thousand worries loomed close. His optimism annoyed the heck out of her sometimes, but it was also one of his best traits and had smoothed many a rough spot for them already.
“Thinking of me, mo áilleacht gruaig dubh?”
The words were spoken softly right into her ear as two arms wound around her hips.
Sepalika started, a spoon clattering onto the counter even as her body automatically leaned against him. It still made her weak in the knees when he called her ‘my dark-haired beauty’ in Irish, although he had another ton of endearments that also made her belly flutter.
“Oh, you are deluded enough to believe you are the only thing I think about? Careful, your ego is so big it’ll be dwarfing the record-breaking Christmas tree on the Galle Face Green soon,” she jested.
Her sassy comment earned her a pinch at her hip and a mock-growl in her ear, the deep sound making butterflies dance in her belly.
“Can’t help having an inflated ego around you. How else is a man supposed to feel when he has snagged the most beautiful and amazing woman on the whole island?”
She giggled softly, half-turned and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth.
“I swear, you can charm your way out of anything. It’s not fair.” She brushed her fingers over the scruff along his strong jaw, soft and hard at the same time. “And I was indeed thinking of you, so you have all right in the world to stroke that ego.”
His hand came up to catch hers and hold it against his cheek, rubbing softly against it. “I’d much rather have you stroke said ego.”
He grinned before swooping down and demanding a proper kiss that had her panting for more and blinking owlishly up at him. His eyes, blue as the ocean and shining with love, never failed to captivate her.
“Deal,” she said a little breathlessly, itching to run her hands all over him. “But you’ll have to choose between that and Christmas lunch.”
He scrunched up his face in mock shock. “Woman, you are heartless. How can you expect me to choose one of the two?”
With another laugh, Sepalika wriggled out of his embrace, although it took Herculean effort to do so. “Well, I’m not as cruel as you think I am. I’ll make the choice for you. Food first, stroking later.”
Long arms ensnared her again so he could nuzzle her caramel-colored neck and sift his fingers through her long, black hair. “Think we might be able to fit dessert in somewhere too?”
Her gaze slid to the saucepan on the stove and hurriedly away. “I’m pretty sure you will always find a way to sneak dessert in.”
“You know me so well,” he murmured against the skin of her neck, nipping teasingly and working her into a frenzy.
Sepalika allowed herself another stolen kiss before she placed both hands on his firm pecs and pushed him away. “Go now, before I lose my willpower and skip right to dessert in bed.”
He wiggled his eyebrows saucily. “Promises, promises.”
They shared a laugh, and Daniel stepped away to lean against the counter and watch her move around the kitchen efficiently. He was dressed in faded denims and a grey T-shirt which stretched alluringly across his broad chest and shoulders. Sepalika had opted for an ankle-length white skirt with lace and a purple turtle-neck top.
Excitement rising, she whirled around the kitchen to get ready for their little feast. After a few minutes, her husband fell into step and helped her, grabbing dishes, washing curry bowls, folding napkins.
Together, they carried the lunch into the dining room and called Sepalika’s mother down from where she had been watching the annual Christmas concert with the crème de la crème of Sri Lanka’s actors, musicians and starlets.
After lunch, they all watched some television, and then it was finally time for presents.
They had bought Sepalika’s mother a shiny, paisley-patterned saree and a matching leather handbag. She kept protesting she wasn’t even celebrating Christmas, her eyes round.
“Here’s my small gift for you,” Sepalika said and handed over a parcel wrapped in sparkly purple, leaning over to press a chaste kiss to Daniel’s cheek in her mother’s company.
“Nollaig shona dhuit, merry Christmas,” she wished him in Irish, having listened to the correct pronunciation on YouTube to get the tongue-twister out correctly.
His face lit up, making him look like a young boy instead of a devastatingly handsome man.
“You shouldn’t have got me anything, seriously.” He squeezed her hand. “I have you by my side, and that makes it the best Christmas ever.”
Sepalika smiled. “Same here, but there was no way I would not get you something.”
She watched with bated breath as he unwrapped his present and whooped in delight. He had been expressing keen interest in all aspects of Sri Lankan life, not only in traditions and cuisine but also in clothing. So, she had got him a sarong in the exact same blue-grey shade as his eyes, and a matching handloom shirt with intricate batik patterns in white and black.
“Oh gosh, look at that!”
Daniel jumped up and down like an excited puppy, loosely wrapped the sarong cloth around his narrow hips and pranced around in front of them. Her mother was giggling again, telling him in her halting English that he would make a great mudalali.
“Thank you ever so much, darling.” He hugged Sepalika tightly, nearly lifting her off her feet.
“We’ll have to get you a matching kit of blouse and lungi, duwe” her mother chimed in. “You two need to do one of those photo shoots in a paddy field or somewhere, it’ll be a big hit.”
“Absolutely,” Daniel agreed, nodding his head vigorously.
With a groan of mock defeat, Sepalika threw her hands up and joined in on the merry laughter.
Daniel sobered up a little, pulling an envelope with a red ribbon out of his pocket.
“This is my gift to you. I hope you like it. Merry Christmas, my love. Subha naththalak wewa.”
Eyebrows raised and heart racing, Sepalika fumbled the envelope open. Out came a beautiful Christmas card and two tickets for a flight to Ireland in the new year.
Her eyes misted over. “Oh my god, Daniel. Can…can we really afford this?”
He pressed her close, one big hand rubbing her hip.
“We’ll just have to get by on rice and dhal for the rest of the month, shower once a week, and walk everywhere,” he said, his tone only half-joking. “But I couldn’t resist. I want to show you my home country before we embark on our Australian quest, because you have made me fall in love with your country.”
Sepalika threw her arms around him. “It’s a wonderful gift. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

3 reasons why I love writing royal romance

​I love trying out new sub-genres in the vast world that is romance novels. For example, there are my multicultural romance novels SAVED IN SRI LANKA and SEDUCED IN SPAIN. And there’s the FIRE TRILOGY, which can be categorized as paranormal romance. And together with bestselling author Mike Wells I had a go at romantic suspense.
​This year, I decided to tackle royal romance (though there isn’t really an official term like that). I’ve always enjoyed reading them, and writing them sounded like fun. And it is huge fun indeed! Here’s what I like most about it.
​1) Creating a ‘world within the world’
 
Of course I can’t just write about an existing prince or kingdom. Instead, I need to make up a whole country with its specific economy, politics, cities, language, names and everything else. This kind of world building is usually important in fantasy and science-fiction, but it’s also important for this romance subgenre. I have to make sure that it all fits into the contemporary scheme of things, and I can let myself be inspired by real-life royalty.
 
In addition to that, I’ve chosen to include another country as a setting too, as my heroines usually come from a different country than the princes. Book 1 kicks off in the Maldives, Book 2 incorporates some trips abroad, and Book 3 partly takes place in Germany.

Have a look at my Pinterest boards to get a better idea of the settings.
 
 
2) Princes as heroes (and strong women who are their equal match)
 
There’s something about a prince that is prime hero material, something take-charge and confident, well-mannered and powerful. It’s a bit like all those tycoons and billionaires but with added thrill because they’re princes or almost kings. They’re so used to being in control and having their way that my heroines and that the act of falling in love completely throws them off balance. And of course there are all those differences in background and lifestyle that increase the conflict between the couple. It’s never easy for them to reach their happy ending, and they’re utterly fascinating and rewarding to write.
 
I make it a point to not only give them different kingdoms but also different personalities within the frame of all being aristocratic rulers. Prince Christian from Book 1 is charming yet reserved, and used to doing what is best for all. Prince Sebastian from Book 2 is a rebel with an alpha male personality who doesn’t want to be a typical prince, but who also knows how to take responsibility. And Prince Erik from Book 3 is full of dedication and a willingness to learn and lead, but shies away from emotional bonds and confrontation.
 
Oh, and just because I write princes as heroes, it doesn’t mean that my heroines are all weak beauties swooning all over their rich conquest. Each one of them is strong and has a will of her own. Each has faced a lot of hurdles in life and is determined not to give up. Princess Olivia from Book 2 is one of the toughest heroines I’ve written, even if she shows some vulnerability too.
 
3) Indulging in luxuries
 
The affluent background of my princes makes it easy to include magnificent palaces, beautiful gowns, private jets and other luxuries in the story. These things sort of glam up the plot and lead to amazing, sometimes awe-inspiring research (like the most expensive horse breeds in the world). I can also take a few liberties and get to decide what makes sense and doesn’t, as it’s my own kingdom set in the real here and now. Readers will feel the wonder that the heroines experience alongside quite some confusion.
 

Featured - Author Interview with Deepti Menon & Spotlight for "Shadow in the Mirror"

My Questions to Deepti Menon​1) Do you believe that some form of redemption is possible in life?
Thank you, Devika!
I believe that redemption is possible in life at any stage. It could be striving to make amends for transgressions, waiting to get out of a mundane existence by doing something worthwhile, or even taking just revenge for some action that has been caused you harm. However, it can only be termed redemption if it takes you to a higher plane.

2) Is there any author who has indirectly or directly influenced your writing?
The first author who influenced me was Enid Blyton who drew me into her world of adventures, delicious food and the excitement of having wonderful friends along the trail of life. Humour has always been one of my favourite genres, and it was PG Wodehouse who gave me my first few laughs. I have also been a great admirer of Daphne du Maurier and Victoria Holt. I enjoy reading Chitra Banerjee, Shashi Tharoor, RK Narayan, Ruskin Bond and Jaishree Mishra.  

3) What do you think is the reason for our fascination with mirrors (they feature so often in books, movies, etc.)?
I have always loved mirrors, maybe because they show you a clear, unvarnished version of what you are. An old wives’ tale says that every time you look at a mirror, a bit of your soul gets trapped in it. Can you imagine the number of tiny soul pieces trapped in every mirror, shining like little shards of glass?  
My first short story that got published in an anthology was titled ‘Mirror Image’.  ‘Shadow in the Mirror’ is my latest book that uses a mirror as a particularly strong image.

4) If you have to describe your book in 3 words, which would you choose?
Thrilling, engrossing and imaginative, hopefully?

5) Please share your views on working with Readomania.
 One moment that turned my life around was when I won a Readomania contest, and met Dipankar Mukerjee for the first time. From the start, I was comfortable working with him. Could I please indulge in a wee bit of boasting here? I have had a story of mine published in every Readomania anthology so far, and I have Dipankar to thank for having had faith in my writing right through.
‘Shadow in the Mirror’ was written twelve years ago, and it lay untouched in a corner, till it was picked up by Readomania. Working with the Readomania team was wonderful, as they helped me, all the way, with the rewriting, developmental editing, honing and creation of my book, and now with the publicity and sales of it as well. I can confidently say that Readomania is a complete publishing package, from start to finish. 
​
Book Spotlight
Shadow In The Mirror byDeepti Menon
Publisher: Readomania 




Blurb
It all begins with a death. Nita, a pregnant woman falling from her balcony becomes the string that unravels the plot. Her death casts a shadow over many lives; her heartbroken father, her husband and Vinny, a young journalist, drawn in by the whiff of foul play and murder.
What follows are stories within stories, eras and worlds colliding with each other, leaving behind splintered relationships and mesmerizing slices of lives that appear to be drawn together and driven apart by the whimsical threads of destiny.As events cast their shadows ahead to link the stories of Vinny, Kavita, Roma, Krish and Nita in an unrelenting knot, a journey starts to uncover the truth. What is the secret that links Nita’s death to the other characters? Will Vinny be able to unravel the mystery of Nita’s death?
From intimate diary entries and letters, to bantering over a meal and sharing memories while spring cleaning, this novel de-familiarizes the ordinary, presenting a kaleidoscope of our own pasts, broken edges and pulsating hearts. 
Grab your copy @
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About the Author


Deepti Menon has always believed in the power of the pen. Having done her post graduation in English Literature and her B.Ed. in English, she had the option of teaching and writing, and did both with great enjoyment. She started writing at the age of ten, long before she acquired a Diploma in Journalism. She also had the advantage of being an Army kid, and later an Army wife, and loved the idea of travelling around India, meeting new people and acquiring new skills. She firmly believes that much of her personality was honed during those travels.
In 2002, her light hearted book, ‘Arms and the Woman’, depicting life as seen through the eyes of an Army wife, was published by Rupa Publishers, Delhi. This was written mainly to reveal the warmth and camaraderie within the great institution. She is now working on her second book that is a work of fiction, and not- to-be divulged yet! 



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