I saw her walking to and fro looking at the window and to the bed impatiently. She was clearly disappointed because of the rain. Clad in a white saree with simple accessories and free hairstyle, she was looking ethereal. When she returned from the window with a frown on her face, I grabbed her hand and made her sit on my lap. She gasped at my action. But it was swallowed inside my mouth as I latched my lips on hers taking her for a surprise. "enna .. enna pandra?" ( what are you doing?) she stuttered breaking our kiss. "ennennamo panna asa dhan.. panatuma? unaku ok va?" ( I want to do so many things with you, shall I ? is it ok for you?) Another short story of a cute couple.

❝ Roses are dead, love is fake, weddings are basically funerals with cake. ❞ Meet Akriti Marwaha, a gynecologist who loves to always keep her family happy and be that girl everyone ever aspired to be. Sass, Straight A's and stethoscopes are her best friends as she tries to solve her orthodox family's snarky remarks with eye rolls. Besides her disastrous cooking skills (if there is any), she tries hard to not fall and swoon over that random guy who would pull the door of star bucks for her. And Aadrik Agnihotri, a devilishly handsome businessman whom every parent warns you about. Callous, Cocky and carefree are the words that describe him the best. Name a bad trait, he has that but name a good trait and he has that too. A perfect concoction of angel and devil, he is. That one dimple on right cheek which peeks when he smiles always makes sure to take at least a hundred girls every time it goes down deeply and deplorably. All Akriti wanted was food, frocks and freedom but with that she ended up slipping into his arms as he caught her, this time promising to never let go. But wasn't he her school rival and her supposed best friend's ex? Hell he is but does that change the fact that they are married now? Oops. I mean, he is at least hot and can cook. Look at the good side? And he seems to always be coming back up to her sarcasm with a charming smile now? ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶ [I can't say the ml is a walking talking green flag throughout the book as they evolve from teenagers to adults. It has what a debut book would have. Flawed characters and a teenage mind] All rights are reserved © 2022 adoptedbyaliens

Jiya Tripathi came to attend her cousin's wedding but in a twist of events, she became the bride. Now trapped with a grumpy zamindar and his unpredictable family, will she fall in love or convince him to leave her? ◖Age Gap ◖Desi Erotica ◖Soft Romance ◖Slow Burn Romance ◖Forced Marriage ◖Suspense

Married off to a quiet man in a broken hut, Devika entered the village with nothing-no dreams, no voice, no name of her own. Everyone called her a burden. Except him. Aarav, a man who had once ruled the city, now lived among clay stoves and silence. Betrayed by his own blood, he had given up everything-until her food, her simplicity, and her quiet strength lit a spark inside him again. With just one clay stove and two plates, they began. From cooking under the sky to building a food empire that shook the village, their love story was written not in grand gestures but in small moments, shared struggles, and a pair of bangles that refused to stop singing. But when Aarav's past returns with greed, guilt, and fire... will Devika's silent strength be enough to protect their world? Because sometimes, the loudest battles are fought... when the bangles still make noise.

"𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎, 𝓈𝒽𝑒'𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒶𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒶𝓉. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝓇." They told me her name would bring influence. That her bloodline would open doors no campaign ever could. That marrying her would tie me to the minister whose word sways cabinets and commands kings. I was twenty-two, hungry and unshaken- A 𝒢𝒽𝒶𝒹𝓏𝒾 by name, born of legacy and cold-blooded business. So I agreed. To the alliance. To the girl. 𝒜𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓇𝒶 𝒮𝒾𝒹𝒹𝒾𝓆𝓊𝑒 𝒬𝓊𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒾𝓈𝒽𝒾. She was fifteen when they marked her as mine. Eighteen when we signed the nikkah. I never saw her-only the tremble of pale fingers, and the quiet grace in her signature beside mine. And then I left. Now, at the brink of becoming the youngest Chief Minister this state has ever seen, they say it's time to complete the picture. Time for her rukhsati. Time to claim the girl I never forgot to remember. She's the granddaughter of a man who could make me king. And somehow, she's also the one thing in this game that feels... undeserved. And now she's waiting. And I don't know if I'm ready. Because what do men like me know of worthiness, when all we've ever known is conquest?

A stern father compels Zarrar, 29-year-old surgeon into an arranged marriage with Hana, a 22-year-old student living in London. _________ "Where are you going?" she asked, flat. "Research trip." He tossed a shirt in, didn't look up. "And you're telling me this now?" "It was sudden." She made a noise somewhere between a tut and a laugh. "I do not care. You know what-" She stepped onto the couch, two quick climbs-herself at 5'4" suddenly level with his eyes, all heat and vowels. Here it is. The tongue was indeed ten feet long tonight. He stayed silent, left packing, arms folded over his chest and just stared. Hana doing her job, utterly, with whole rights over him to shout. "There won't be anything for me to be surprised if I wake up someday in the graveyard with mud sprayed over me 'cause my dear husband must have gotten too exasperated by my being, that he- the victim, had to bury me alive while I was asleep." Zarrar swallowed a smile, let her finish, then moved. He stepped in, hands light on her waist, lifted-she squawked, all outrage-then held her over his shoulder as he walked the three strides to the bed. She behaved as if someone unplugged her, forgot how to speak. He set her gently at the edge of the mattress and went down on one knee in front of her, floorboards cool under him. "What do you want me to say now?" "Are you actually asking me this?" Her voice wobbled, anger running out of fuel. "Yeah," he said, and he was smirking now, fond and infuriating. "Any last wishes of my wife before I bury her alive." ________ dive into the story of something very different from soap operas. TROOP ~ choas x cold yapper x listener age gap. doctor's divine

The portrait should have been nothing more than paint on fading canvas- Yet the moment the students stepped into the museum hall, the air shifted. It felt as if the walls remembered things -Prisha felt it first. Prisha Mehta-quiet, observant, orphaned-stood apart from her class, fingers grazing the railing as her eyes fixed on the newly unearthed painting. Princess Shivanya Maheshwari. The artist had painted her like a prayer. Long kohl-lined eyes. Dusky skin glowing beneath jewels. A soft mouth curved with grace. But beneath all the beauty, something felt terribly wrong. Prisha's heartbeat stilled. Because the princess didn't just resemble her. She looked exactly like her.The same eyes. The same bone structure. The same face. Her professor spoke somewhere behind her, recounting how Shivanya's kingdom fell to war centuries ago. How she died young, slain by the ruthless Prince Prithviraj Kshatriya-heir of the rival throne. That night, sleep refused to come. Something inside her whispered- Go back. She shouldn't have. She shouldn't have snuck past the locked museum doors, shouldn't have wandered alone through marble corridors lit only by thunder. But curiosity-dangerous, consuming-pulled her in. Thunder cracked above, rattling the walls.Prisha's breath hitched. And then-even before she could scream-the ground split open beneath her. The museum vanished. With a violent gasp, she clawed her way to the surface. Gone was the museum. Gone was the girl she had been. She staggered to her feet-drenched, trembling- maroon silk clinging to her body, gold heavy around her throat and wrists. She wasn't wearing her own clothes anymore.She was wearing the princess's. Prisha-no, Shivanya-stood in a storm-drenched forest. The only way back to her time was through the portrait. But to reach it...she would have to survive the kingdom that killed her once- -and the prince who was never meant to fall in love with her.

❝𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒕, 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚?❞ _____________________________ Sidharth never wanted this marriage. Trapped by circumstances and haunted by a past he didn't want to face, he told himself it was only a duty. But Noor-silent, simple Noor-was something he couldn't ignore. Her presence stirred something in him, her quietness louder than his own chaos. She never asked for anything, yet she made him face the parts of himself he wanted to forget. And as his walls started to fall, he hated that he wanted her-that he needed the warmth of someone he was never meant to have. As time went on, He began to behave in ways that were antithetical to his initial intentions. He found himself doing everything he had once vowed never to do with his wife. He became the very husband he had despised. He started to crave more, an insatiable desire that gnawed at his soul for her. And then nothing seems to satisfy his aching soul other than his arranged wife's one smile. ●An Indian arranged marriage romance. #Book-1 in #His bride series. (A standalone book) ●Bᴏᴏᴋ ɪs ʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴅᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ Dᴀʀᴋ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ, ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪɢʜʟʏ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ʟɪɢʜᴛ BDSM. (Have a lot of grammatical and spelling mistakes.) ╰┈➤Started on: 28 April 2024 Author♥️

Anika, a hardworking single mother, crosses paths with Arjun, a wealthy businessman and single father with a broken heart. What starts as a business deal soon turns into something deeper as their children bring them closer. But when the past resurfaces, will love be enough to heal their wounds? A heartfelt story of second chances, love, and family.

**"Parvati was never wanted. Not when she was born, not when she learned to read, and certainly not when she turned twenty-two long past the 'right age' for a village bride. Dark-skinned and unwanted, she was a burden her parents were desperate to throw away. So they found Shiv the drunk youngest son of a poor farmer, heartbroken and ignored by his own family. A man they believed would ruin her life faster than they ever could. But fate has a strange way of mocking cruelty. What began as a marriage of neglect slowly became a story of two broken people mending each other, one quiet act of love at a time."** ---