The room was silent-too silent. The kind that made even the ticking clock sound like a scream. Every pair of eyes was fixed on the woman standing at the head of the table. Roohani Singhania. And the reason three grown men were visibly sweating despite the perfectly functioning air conditioning. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked toward the trembling senior executive. The contract in her hand flapped like a death warrant. "You really thought I wouldn't notice this?" Her tone was calm-too calm. The kind of calm that made even the bravest want to run. "Ms. Singhania, I-" The papers landed on the table with a snap. "Get. Out." He didn't wait to be told twice. He bolted, leaving behind his dignity and a very awkward silence. For a moment, the Ice Queen simply stood there, her sharp gaze scanning the table full of terrified subordinates. Then- Clink. A cup of coffee slid to a stop beside her hand. "Extra strong. No sugar. Just how you like it." Her eyes flickered upward, meeting the calm brown ones of Mahir Sehgal-her personal assistant, the only man in the building who seemed immune to her frostbite. "You were five minutes late," she said coolly, though her fingers curled around the cup. "Traffic," he said with a grin that didn't quite hide the teasing in his eyes. "Or maybe I was just waiting for your dramatic exit moment. You know, timing." Her lips twitched-almost a smile.. "Meeting's over," Mahir said, gathering her things with practiced ease.Roohani rolled her eyes and turned, her heels clicking with authority. Mahir followed behind, matching her stride. She was the coldest woman in the business world. He was the only one who could make her laugh... and maybe, one day, melt. But no one-not even the Ice Queen herself-knew that the man who made her coffee also had ice in his veins when he needed to. And this time, she wasn't the only one capable of taming.

On the night of her wedding, Princess Meera Shree Rajput sat draped in red and gold, her pulse trembling beneath the weight of silk and jewels. The air was too still, too heavy, as though the palace itself held its breath. A sound shattered the hush-footsteps, steady and deliberate. She turned. Her groom stood before her, his face veiled in a mask , a sword glinting in his hand. Before her lips could form a word, the blade found her heart. Her bangles struck the marble floor in a scatter of sound, her breath faltered, and the palace drowned in silence. When her eyes opened again, time had lost its meaning. Centuries unraveled like threads: Empires rose and crumbled, storms clawed at the stone halls, and still she wandered-unseen, unheard, bound to the place of her death. Until one night, headlights cut through the darkness of the courtyard. From the car stepped a man-his presence carved against the winter air. His gaze swept the ruins... and stopped on HER. For the first time in lifetimes, Princess Meera was seen.

The clang of steel, the roar of warriors, the taste of blood and dust-Viraaj Singh Chauhan was in the heart of war when the world tore itself apart. One strike, one heartbeat, and then-silence. When his eyes opened again, there was no battlefield. Thunder roared from machines racing over black roads. Glass towers pierced the night, the air stinking of smoke and metal. A king, stripped of the crown and kingdom, stood lost among strangers. Five years later, the world knew another name. Veeranshu Rajput. Not the warrior king, but the billionaire who bent empires to his will. Veeranshu had carved his throne from steel and glass, becoming one of the most powerful men on earth. - Mahira Sengupta had lived with visions all her life-palaces burning, skies collapsing, and a king with eyes like storms. She wrote them into novels the world adored, never confessing the truth: she had never seen his face. Only his eyes. Only his voice. "You brought me back, Mahira. Now nothing will keep me from you." She never knew her dreams had already stepped into this century. And somewhere, behind the mask of the most powerful man alive, the lost king was waiting.

In the heart of Jaipur, where chaos kissed royalty and secrets slept beneath marbled domes, he ruled without apology. Abhimaan Deep Shekhawat - the uncrowned king of Rajasthan. Cold. Calculated. Lethal behind a polished mask. To the world, a royal heir guarding tradition. In truth, the phantom pulling political strings, the storm whose silence promised ruin. But even storms... can be caught off guard. One evening, trapped in traffic near Central Park, a sound cut through his thoughts-a tune, soft and soulful. Instinct pulled him into the park, following it like prey to a predator. She sat on the grass in a white floral saree, hair loosely braided, fingers coaxing life from a guitar. Eyes closed. Unaware. Unbothered. She wasn't trying to be seen-yet he couldn't look away. Then she was gone. Days later, a decades-old ledger surfaced-evidence that could destroy his empire. At its center: Meher Sen, daughter of Arindam Sen, an ex-investigator about to expose ministers, businessmen-and him. Power demanded he erase the threat. Obsession made him claim it. A marriage was arranged. On paper, protection. In reality, possession. Binding her meant silencing her father forever. It should have ended there. But the moment she stepped into his home, something darker than blackmail took root. Even kings fall-especially for the ones they try to cage.

✿✿｡･:*:･ﾟ✿･:*:･ﾟ✿✿✿✿｡･:*:･ﾟ✿･:*:･ﾟ✿✿ To the women who were told to be silent, and chose to speak through their strength instead. To the men hardened by life, but brave enough to let love soften them. And to every soul caught between tradition and dreams- may you find the courage to live both. 💫 The Zamindar's Bride - Blurb She dreamed of white coats and stethoscopes. He ruled fields and farms with silence and steel. Varnika Kashyap, a bright 20-year-old aspiring doctor, had her whole life planned - until the sudden death of her parents shattered everything. Orphaned and vulnerable, she's coerced by her controlling aunt into a marriage she never wanted. Her groom? Vardhan Singh Rana - a 30-year-old village zamindar, feared by many, respected by all. Vardhan is everything Varnika is not - uneducated yet worldly, stoic yet intense, powerful yet rooted in tradition. He never asked for a bride, but his father's condition for inheritance forces him into the shackles of matrimony. Thrown together by circumstances neither of them chose, Varnika and Vardhan are strangers bound by a sacred vow. She is too naive for his world; he is too hardened for hers. And yet, amid the dusty courtyards, whispered secrets, and stifling expectations, a delicate tension brews. Will she find herself caged or cherished? Will he lose himself in love or keep building walls? A tale of forced beginnings, emotional awakening, and a love that neither of them saw coming.

Top #2 in India (7/6/25) "𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮, 𝐌𝐫𝐬 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮" ~𝑹𝒖𝒅𝒓𝒂 "𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝙮𝙤𝙪" ~𝑨𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒉𝒊 ✬⋆✬⋆✬⋆✬ 𝑹𝒖𝒅𝒓𝒂❦𝑨𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒉𝒊 ✬⋆✬⋆✬⋆✬ ♡ 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑠 ♡ ➻𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑔𝑎𝑝 ➻𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑔𝑒 ➻𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 ➻𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑔𝑒 ➻𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 ➻𝑑𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 & 𝑓𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 ➻ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 ⋆⋆⋆ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡:-29/03/25 𝐸𝑛𝑑:-....

If you ever met Jezzabelle Lemana you'd think she was a nice, sweet, loving person with the perfect life. But some things are not what they seem. This 17 year old is trying her best to get out of her senior year of high school without having to remember the fact that she's being abused by her stepmother and father at home. She built a wall so high that no one can ever know about her or her past. But what happens when someone breaks it down? Emmet King is the leader of the most wanted gang in the streets of Detroit. He is heartless and forgot about love ever since what happened to him in the past. Everyone fears him with respect when he walks past. What happens when these two collide? And Emmet makes what he wants his?! The only thing I heard when he towers over me is the word 'mine' ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ Highest Ranking: #18 Gangleader 11/14/22 Highest Ranking: #28 in Romance 12/25/17

He began walking over to me. This is it. I'm dead. I saw his shoes come into my view as I was looking down, hair covering my face. "Look at me." He growled out. I started to cry, too afraid to look. He grasped my chin and lifted my face to meet his. I mentally gasped. It's the guy from last night. His eyes held surprise too, before anger erupted in them. I cowered back in fear of what he might do. "Who did this to your face?" He growled. I started to cry again and shake. "Him." I whispered and gave a small nod toward the guy who hit me.

He lit his cigarette, I lit nothing. He drank alcohol, I drank water. He smirked, I smiled. He didn't love me, I didn't love him. He and I together wouldn't last a day. And then the game started... He said he found me intriguing, unique, and interesting because I didn't swoon over him. "You and me Grey, let's play a game. We'll date and in three months time I promise you will fall for me. When you fall in love with me between that time span, I win. If in any way you were to win I'll give up all the alcohol, cigarettes, and player ways." It was a game I wasn't willing to lose, but all games had accidents and consequences. It takes a broken heart to know how to break a heart.