The First Life of Vikram Roy by Laxmi Hariharan

About the Book:

His family is being held to ransom by a deadly mastermind. 

Vikram never should have left his family, but when Vikram's father brings his half-brother Vishal home, life will never be the same. Vikram thinks things will be better now that he's gone. He's met the love of his life, his future looks bright and then everything is shattered. Now, his family's life is hanging in the balance, and only Vikram can do what needs to be done to save them. From the bestselling dystopian fiction author with over 200 reviews and ratings of her dystopia books across Goodreads, Amazon and other retailers. 

If you’re looking for books like Hunger Games, then this dystopia romance series, The Ruby Iyer Series is it. 




Book Links: Goodreads I Amazon

An exclusive excerpt and GIVEAWAY from The First Life of Vikram Roy

The Ruby Iyer Series—by Laxmi Hariharan

I hear the staccato of shots being fired, followed by yells and howls of pain. Then, the sound of something being smashed and everything goes quiet. The TV no longer chatters. I look to the open door. The recreation room is down at the end of the corridor. The sounds of shots get closer. Without giving myself a chance to think I make a run for the door slam it shut, lock it and it’s as if that’s a signal to the rest of the men to jump to their feet. Without a word, the ten of us scram to our bunks, pull on trousers and shoes.We get our hands on whatever weapon we can find. No guns, none of us have guns. So I grab my cricket bat. (As if that’s going to make a difference?)
 Around me the others too are grabbing cricket bats and hockey sticks. Neil grabs an iron rod. An iron rod? Where did he get that from?  We drop to the floor, crouch and wait. 
Should I hide under the bed? Nope, no way. Like, that is going to help. 
And then a crash as the door is broken down, hacked by what looks like an axe till it’s in pieces on the floor and through it step through two men. One holding a machine gun, the other wielding an axe which he drops to the floor and instead grabs the the gun slung over his back. They are both wearing balaclavas, so we can’t see their features. Of medium height, they are muscular and dressed all in black: Black jeans and sweatshirts, their hair covered by the hoods. Their backs are to the door. They point their guns at us, signalling to us to put our hands up. I hesitate, not looking around but sense that the others too are not sure what to do. The first gunman points his gun at the nearest recruit … a boy just out of his teens and shoots him in the head. 
There is a collective gasp from the room. A chill runs through me. Who are they? How did they break through the security measures of the force base? And then they are foolish enough to barge right into the heart of the training facilities of the force and shoot its cadets? Why? Why would they do that? The gunmen gesture to us and this time we follow their orders. We walk to the wall at the back of the bunkhouse and line up, hands on our heads, staring ahead.
An alarm rings out then. Finally! It’s been almost ten minutes since the shooting started. Still, the reinforcements should be here soon. Now all we need to do is keep these gun men distracted enough so they don’t kill us. As if reading my mind, the guy who’d shot the young recruit moves forward, his gun trained on us. I draw in a breath and hold it. The sweat trickles down my back. My heart is racing so fast I am sure if I look down I can see it leaping out of my chest. The gunman passes me, walks to the end of the line; then back to the middle where I am. 
"You have no idea what this is about do you?" He asks.
He sounds young, as if he is barely a man himself. And something in his voice … muffled as it is, it sounds familiar. A faint recollection  grabs the edge of my mind, And then I forget everything because he leans close to Neil who is next to me, and smashes the butt of his gun into his stomach. Neil falls to the ground, moaning, holding his middle. I firm up my stomach muscles. I know I am next, I must be. I want to squeeze my eyes shut, but don’t. The gunman leans to the other side, and shoots another man in the head. 
This chap collapses without a cry. What the fuck? I want to jump him right then, but that would be really stupid of me. I am not going to help anyone if I get killed will I? There are six of us left in the room now. One of the younger recruits lets out a sob, at which gunman no 2 holds his gun at him, so he shuts up immediately.
The gunman asks me, "Where are the plans?’
"What are you talking about?" I reply, trying to stay calm, struggling not to show how scared I am inside. 
He only grins and in response, and without taking his eyes off me, holds his gun up and I know what what he is going to do and I scream. "No!" But it’s too late. This time he’s shot two more guys in succession. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. These guys are desperate, or crazy or both. 
Besides me Neil stirs on the ground.  
The gunman takes a deep breathe, as if trying to calm himself and says, "Don’t pretend to be dumb. If you don’t get me the blue prints of the security arrangements being planned by the force for Bombay; the one that you and your team mates are being trained for, then all the rest of you die too."
Only six of us left now. Four young lives, gone just like that. I feel sick. What the fuck are these guys upto? And … and how do they know about the plans? This is top secret. The only reason I know about it, is because I’ve overheard the training officer speaking with the ACP about it on the phone last week. And only because I happened to be waiting outside his room then. And how does this gunman even know that I know the details?

Want to find out what happens next? Click here

About the origins of Ruby Iyer:

Growing up in Bombay, my daily commute to university was inevitably nightmarish. It's just how public transport is here. The man behind you on the bus will brush up against you. You know you are going to be felt up on a crowded train platform. All you can do is accept it and get on. Or so you think. I did too, until, a young photojournalist was raped in the centre of Bombay in broad daylight.  It made me furious. Nothing had changed in this city in all these years. Then, I had a vision of this young girl who would 

not back down; who would follow her instincts, stand up for herself regardless of consequences.  Thus Ruby Iyer was born. Make no mistake, Ruby’s her own person. She leads. I follow. 
You can download the RUBY IYER DIARIES, the prequel novelette in the series free HERE

About The Many Lives of Ruby Iyer

2015 Readers' Favorite (Bronze) YA Action 

YA Finalist 2015 IAN Book of the Year Award

Finalist 9th Annual Indie Excellence Awards

When her best friend is kidnapped, Ruby will stop at nothing to rescue him. 

Criminals run the streets of Bombay. Jam-packed with the worst degenerates. The city is a shell of the pride and joy it used to be. Ruby knows something must be done, but it isn’t until her best friend is kidnapped by the despotic Dr Braganza that she knows that she and she alone must save city, save her best

friend, save the world from total destruction. Armed only with Vikram, a cop-turned-rogue they are about to embark on a road they may never return from. 
If you’re looking for fast-paced books like Hunger Games or dystopia fiction like Angelfall, the Ruby Iyer series is perfect for you. 

DOING MY BIT 
All SEPTEMBER earnings from the RUBY IYER SERIES will be donated to SAVE THE CHILDREN: SUPPORT CHILD REFUGEES OF SYRIA. All the RUBY IYER books with their brand new covers, are on SALE all this month at 99p/c & Rs 69/49. Click HERE to buy them.  

YOU can also donate to SAVE THE CHILDREN directly HERE 

About the Author:

She almost died. But when dystopia romance author Laxmi Hariharan had a near death experience, she was told to write. Laxmi is the creator of dystopian romance series, RUBY IYER SERIES (The MANY LIVES OF VIKRAM ROY - FINALIST Indie Excellence Awards, the bestselling The RUBY IYER DIARIES , The FIRST LIFE OF VIKRAM ROY, The SECOND LIFE OF RUBY IYER & VIKRAM ROY, PANKY's FIRST LIFE), and the Amazon bestselling, eLit Gold winner, The Destiny of Shaitan (Bombay Chronicles, 1). If you're looking for books like Divergent and Angelfall, you'll love the RUBY IYER SERIES.
Laxmi writes books similar to Hunger Games while listening to electronica & progressive rock, and downing innumerable cups of extra sweet ginger-chai. She is also an avid photographer of street art and believes she was a tree -- a redwood -- in her past life. London is where she creates. Bombay is what fires her imagination. 

Receive a free copy of THE RUBY IYER DIARIES when you sign up to her Newsletter 

GIVEAWAY

The First Life of Vikram Roy, The THIRD book in the RUBY IYER Series, launches this month. To celebrate the launch of the FIRST LIFE OF VIKRAM ROY I am giving away a $30 gift card. Winner will be drawn, Oct 1, 2015, and announced in my next newsletter.

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The Ties That Bind by Christina Mandara

Title: The Ties That Bind

Author: +Christina Mandara

Genre: Dark Erotica, BDSM, Suspense

Will Mark Matthews accept Redcliff’s terms for his daughter’s release, surrendering both body and mind to the enemy? Petal’s sanity depends upon the fact, for in the sixth and final book of Pony Tales she is to discover that the fate in store for her at Albrecht is not a pretty one.

Shipped off to Leyland Forbes in a steel cage, the pony-girl will have to endure all sorts of imaginative bondage and BDSM at his palatial manor, as her body is photographed intimately by several of the world’s top photographers. As the day progresses she will find herself taken out to dinner in chains, before being cleverly and expertly divested of her virginity.

Trouble awaits when she returns to the stables, however. One of the trainers has taken a monstrous dislike to her and intends to prove his superiority, both in the dungeon and beyond.

Escape is beginning to seem like an impossible dream…

Content warning:  M/f, F/f, M/M, kinky underwater bondage, dub-con, non-consensual sex.

Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Kobo ~ Barnes & Noble

PG EXCERPT

“She’s been screaming her head off for an hour, Michael. Can I knock her out, or at the least move the woman somewhere far, far away, preferably underground?”

There was a long sigh at the end of the telephone receiver and it was clear that the owner of the voice was in a testy mood.

“K, darling. It’s unlike you to be so squeamish. What’s up?”

The blonde on the other end of the receiver sighed again. Michael’s voice was not one of sympathy and it was clear that her sentry duty was far from over. “Your son is putting muddy footprints all over my brand new, silver travertine tiles. He’s already necked most of the alcohol in the house and has now taken my remote control prisoner.” She added a little growl for effect, to let him know she was not at all pleased by the turn of events.

There was a slight pause as her complaints were considered before all of them were rebuffed as she had expected.

“You have a cleaning lady who will be in first thing tomorrow to clear up the footprints and any other mess he might leave, paid for by me I might add, and I’m more than happy to get you a delivery of whatever tipple might take your fancy. Of course, you realise you can’t drink anything with her in the house and nor can you watch TV, so I fail to see your point.” The voice had taken on a bemused tone. “It’s the screaming that’s getting you down, hmm? And here I thought you enjoyed that sort of thing.”

The blonde heard a burst of uncharacteristic laughter erupt from her handset and nearly fell over from her position, leant casually against the granite kitchen countertop. As it was, several cookbooks fell to their demise and a jar of chrome utensils quickly followed suit.

“K, dear, are you OK? It’s nearly all over now. We’ll have him right where we want him in just a couple of days. The girls are in place, and there’s the added bonus of having both Isabelle and Jennifer as an incentive to get Mark to co-operate. I think the man has a conscience, but we’ll find out shortly, darling.”

“What are you planning to do with them?” Scuttling around on the floor, she banged shiny serving spoons, spatulas and ladles back into their container, loud enough to create pretty impressive backing for a drum and bass album.

“Something diabolically nasty, what else? I want to watch him squirm and I want him to know exactly what I’m capable of. When you take on someone of Matthews’ calibre, you make sure he understands you the first time, because there’s no way you’ll get hold of him a second time.”

The banging stopped abruptly and a smile flittered across K’s face, her bright red lips uplifting in sudden comprehension. “Oh goody, we get to play with them, too?”

Michael Redcliff cleared his throat and smiled to himself. “Yes, dear, that was the plan. Have you cheered up a bit now?”

“A little,” she admitted, her voice having taken on a soft, dreamy quality and her thoughts were suddenly whisked to far more pleasurable pastures.

“Good.”

“But what about the damn screaming,” she groaned, coming back to earth firmly with a bump.

“Do you have your cell phone handy?”

K finally managed to get herself upright and set the utensil jar safely back on the counter. She pulled the receiver away from her ear and looked at the phone as if it had sprouted purple fur and claws. Rolling her eyes, already wondering where this was leading, she put the handset back to her ear. “Of course I have a cell phone, but I’m on the home phone at the moment. You want me to call you from my cell?”

“No darling. I want you to record the delightful Isabelle’s screams. A little bit of sobbing and begging wouldn’t go amiss, either. Let’s stir Matthew’s up and get him a little jumpy. Make the recording around a couple of minutes in length and then send it to me. I’ll need to deliver it from an untraceable account. We don’t want to give the boy any ammunition he can use.”

“OK, give me ten minutes and I’ll get it to you. Out of curiosity, though, why aren’t you keeping her at yours?”

“Ahh, that’s because there’s always the chance that Matthew’s may be really stupid and have the authorities come barging in here. I’m the only link he has. He doesn’t know that you’re my sidekick. You won’t even be up for consideration. He gets very protective of his staff, I hear, and has gone to some great lengths to ‘save’ them in the past. It helps that he’s got a soft spot for Isabelle and a hard one for my daughter.”

“But Isabelle isn’t one of his girls, is she?”

“She is now.”

ADULT EXCERPT

“We need to work together, you and I,” said Mark, and his lips descended to nuzzle her neck, “because I suspect we want the same thing.”

“You want ten tonnes of sugar and a three litre vat of coffee?” She was rewarded with a sharp nip for her troubles. “Don’t go vampire on me,” she threatened, “I’ve already got you down as the big bad wolf.”

He laughed. “Because I can see you, smell you and eat you better than anyone else you’ve ever known?”

“No, it was a ‘whose afraid of the big bad wolf thing,’ but you’ve been replaced in that department. Anyway, tell me what we’re working together on.”

“You’re not afraid of me any more? Hmph. We’ll have to work on that.” He ignored her question and let his lips travel along the line of her jaw as his fingers gently kneaded her buttocks. The feeling was electric on her bright pink skin.

“I’m never especially comfortable around you,” she yelped as she received a backhander on her left butt-cheek, “but I’m not afraid of you, no.”

“Good.”

Her right cheek was subjected to the same treatment and it felt divine. He then pressed something cold and hard against the entrance to her pussy, and she instinctively moved upwards to avoid it.

“Relax. It’s just a set of Ben Wa balls. They’ll help improve your pelvic floor muscles because you’ll have to squeeze tightly to keep them inside of you. Lots of squeezing makes my fun in the bedroom infinitely more entertaining.” Another slap on her backside, but the first ball was already being worked inside her and it felt sublime. It was heavy, smooth and almost certainly made of some kind of metal. Her money would be on stainless steel.

“These are some of the heaviest ones I can find, mainly because I don’t like to make my games too easy for you. If you live under my roof, you’re going to have to work for everything and I mean everything, but that’s all part of the fun. If you can figure out a way to please me, I’ll make your life bearable.” He stroked the line of her throat and tongued the unbelievably sensitive spot just behind her earlobe. She shuddered.

“Does bearable include unlimited amounts of coffee and chocolate?” There was another petulant yelp as he increased the strength of his swats, but she didn’t wiggle out of the way.

“No, and never tell me stuff like that, because now I’ll ration both coffee and chocolate until you’re begging for the stuff. I like watching women beg. There’s something amazing about watching a woman beg, especially for sex.” He winked at her. “I’ll remember to cover you from head to toe in chocolate body paint frequently, in order to torment the hell out of you.” The second kegel ball was slotted into place, as deep inside her as his fingers would go. There was a pause as her body took a moment to spasm all over. Mark aroused her just by speaking, damnit, and all the rest of the stuff was just overkill in her opinion. Biting her tongue sharply, she managed to get a hold of herself.

“That might be OK, as long as I get a chance to lick the stuff off,” said Jenny thoughtfully.

“Oh no. I’ll be painting your chocolate rations somewhere far more interesting.” Mark pulled her away from the bed and stood directly in front of her. Jenny was trying hard not to laugh. She couldn’t help it. The image of Mark with his cock covered in chocolate was doing strange things to her libido.

“Now I’m curious. Would you like your chocolate rations orally or as a suppository? I’m sure the sugar would hit you quicker if we…”

“Nooo,” Jenny bit out, and the man had successfully wiped the smile off her face in an instant, which she guessed was his goal.

“Right, enough distractions. The name of the game is this… I have a pair of bolt cutters that will make moving and walking far less embarrassing for your restaurant visit. You keep those balls inside you for the next ten minutes, no matter what I do to you, and I’ll see what I can manage with regards to your restraints. You’ll still have the cuffs on, of course, but you’ll lose the chains – so more freedom for a little bit of effort. What do you say, Miss Redcliff?”

“Game on,” came the reply.

The pressure of the heavy metal balls within her had seemed fine at first. Mark made her crawl around the floor a bit, and introduced a flogger to the proceedings, but it was not particularly hard work to keep them securely inside her. She had to squeeze the muscles of her vagina tightly together, but the initial effort required to do so was sustainable, or so she’d thought.

Moving around proved difficult, not because of the chains, she’d almost become used to those, but when the balls vibrated and bounced together they sent shock waves of pleasure radiating through her body. The flogger drove her this way and that throughout his apartment, and each twist and turn was murder on her insides.

“I’ve waited a long time to fuck you, Jennifer Redcliff.” His voice echoed in her ears but she didn’t fully comprehend their meaning until a few moments later. “Whatever I want is usually delivered immediately to me, with no questions asked. I guess that’s one of the perks of being me. Having to wait over a week for something I really want is unheard of, and yet here I am still as excited by you as the first day I laid eyes on you. Scrap that, even more so. I want to pin you to the wall like a fucking Van Gogh, Miss Redcliff, and just like the Van Gogh, I wouldn’t mind if you graced my wall for several years or more. Does that scare you? Do you want to serve, Jenny? Do you want to serve me? Or are you, perhaps, just telling me the words I want to hear so you can run out on me at the first opportunity?”

To prove his point, Mark had scooped her up off the floor and slammed her backside against the bright white wall behind her. He obviously preferred the minimalist look, because not a single painting adorned it, which was probably a good thing when your head was being slammed against it. Not that she cared. Her body was buzzing with an intensity that had little to do with the vibrating balls inside her. Just one look from the annoying man in front of her and she was reduced to speaking gibberish. He had his flies undone and his cock nudging for entrance at her pussy, which might explain her inability to articulate words, but then again those smouldering brown eyes could produce naked flames if one weren’t careful. When he thrust himself inside her and smacked into the two balls, she nearly exploded on the spot.

There was no question that she was wet. Dripping wet. These days she was always soaked. But having two heavy, vibrating balls slammed into your cervix was an experience she was not going to forget in a hurry. Finally she got a grip on her tongue. “So,” she said breathlessly, feeling his mouth hovering above her nipple, “where are the Van Gogh’s?” Bathing in the hot air from his mouth, her nipple pleaded for more, and finally he teased it with his tongue. Small licks and flicks was all it was treated to, but it cried out for more, stretching and straining its little self until it could grow no more.

“I already told you, you are the Van Gogh, and if you don’t shut up, I might decide to hang you here permanently for my own personal use.”

His strokes were blunt but fierce. He worked the balls inside her as deep as they would go, cupping her reddened ass in his hands and tilting her towards him. Grinding against her clit, she was once again mute, so his threat had been a pointless one. Her head was in another place entirely and it was a happy place. Each thrust knocked the balls about inside her and they played a decadently wonderful tune.

“Madam, I am at your cervix for the entire evening,” Mark whispered, barely holding back a chuckle. Jenny didn’t care. She was almost at the point where she was hoping his earlier threat might come true. Being pinned against his wall for this kind of regular treatment wouldn’t be a hardship. Au contraire. It would be a fucking amazing. Before that thought had a chance to be examined, he pulled out of her.

Two heavy metal balls plummeted downwards and she did her best to slow their descent by clenching her PC muscles as hard as she could. Her face twisted as the effort of gripping them took hold.

“I’m not going to make this easy on you, Pet. You’re going to have to work to keep those balls inside of you. Grabbing her wrists, one at a time, he slammed them into the wall above her head. “Tell me what you want,” he growled.

But she wasn’t going to give in that easily. If he wanted to play nasty, then so could she, and the chocolate episode was still fresh in her mind. “I want,” she breathed in sexily and fluttered her eyelashes in great swoops that Cleopatra would have been proud of, “the largest cup of coffee that you can find.”

He grinned evilly, and she knew instantly that she’d made a mistake, but controlling the things that flowed out of her mouth had never been one of her strong points, and even less so in the heat of the moment. His cock slid between her legs and gently strokes the edges of her labia. Moving back and forth he teased her gently and she groaned in arousal. “There goes your ‘before-dinner-orgasm’ darling, and you’ll be lucky if I don’t take you out to dinner stark naked and wearing even more chains than you are already. Does that appeal?”

“No,” she mewled, swiftly curtailing anything else that might have threatened to spill out of her mouth. She had more important things to worry about. The heavy balls inside her were slipping. If she’d have behaved herself, she would barely have had to work for her bolt cutters, but now, without his help… things were getting difficult. Clamping together her tiring muscles, the lines of strain became evident upon her face.

“So let’s try that again. Tell me what you want.”

Christina Mandara was born in the UK, but has spent most of her life travelling the world. She speaks three languages and has been chiefly employed in the fields of finance and travel. Her favourite city is Sydney and her favourite holiday destination is the south of France.

She loves keeping fit and enjoys running, cycling and water sports. Think surfing or sailing. She's a big fan of BDSM in all of its glorious forms, and her favourite item in the toy closet (a box simply isn't big enough) is her riding crop.

In her spare time she's usually cuddled up with a good book, exploring the countryside, or baking in the kitchen. In fact, she loves her kitchen so much, she's one of the few woman who wouldn't mind being tied to it! Her first and foremost love is writing, however, and more often than not you'll find her on a laptop spinning tales of romance, erotica or dark, paranormal fantasies.  

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Christina is generously running a giveaway during The Ties That Bind book tour and giving away the following:
First Prize: $10 Amazon Gift Card
Second Prize: A signed copy of 'The Riding School,' with signed bookmark
Third prize: A black flogger and fridge magnets

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Milan by Simi K. Rao

About the Book:

Milan (A Wedding Story)

When a daughter turns marriageable age, what should a responsible father do? Easy--wed her to the most suitable boy who comes knocking on the door. Jai Bharadwaj, Mili's father and owner of The Serenity Tea Estate in the idyllic Nilgiris would've probably liked to do the same, but being who he was, he had to ask her first. What would she say?







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‘Behind the scenes at an Indian Wedding’

Indians in general are deeply rooted in tradition. Our culture gives us our identity. Most of us (especially those living away from the homeland) cling to it, even though several aspects in these particularly modern times, make no sense at all. Why do we do so? Perhaps because it brings us together as a community and provides us comfort in a foreign environment. The same I think applies to immigrants from all over the globe.

Marriages in India, in particular Hindu marriages are long drawn intricate affairs fraught with age old tradition. Little has changed over the centuries except for certain embellishments due to modernization. To non-Indians these ceremonies appear just that—elaborate colorful rituals flavored with plenty of pomp and show.

In the following story I take my readers on a ‘behind the scenes' tour at a traditional Indian wedding. I’ve tried to illustrate the proceedings from engagement to the wedding ceremony with “generalized” Indians---my characters, and have also made an attempt to expound on the emotional upheavals that occur in the background and often aren’t spoken out loud. Milan is more of a ‘short story’ concept where it shows the before/during and after of an event than it is a ‘long novel’ about characters with hopes and dreams and goals. And its purpose is exactly that, to show the emotions Indian couples go through during the process of a wedding. This story may help the reader get a better insight into the culture of marriage in India.

The Setting of MILAN

Whenever I travel back to my homeland, I prepare for a culture shock. The crowds, the noise, the pollution have all increased several fold as the country races forward at breakneck speed to catch up with the rest of the world. There are very places left where it still seems like life goes on as it did a few decades ago, where people are laid back and nature is not at war with mankind.

MILAN is set in one such place; Coonoor-- a hill town located in the Nilgiri Hills, about 56 kms from the Coimbatore Airport, in the southern Indian State of Tamil Nadu. 

 

It is part way from its more well-known cousin Ooty. I spent some time there during my last trip and was so enchanted that I chose to use it as a setting for my story. Known for its tea plantations, Coonoor is a lovely, rustic little town. With its abundance of greenery and quaint architecture it is a throwback to India as it used to be. The temperate climate and serene environment help the restless soul to relax and take a few breaths of peace. When you are there, don't forget to take a ride on the Nilgiris meter gauge train, as well as a personalized tour of the tea estates.

I want to thank Debdatta for giving me this opportunity to express myself and for hosting this blog tour. I also want to thank all the bloggers who are participating in this tour and have made space for my book on their blog. Your time and generosity is much appreciated.

Happy Reading! 

Simi K. Rao

About the Author:

Simi K. Rao was born and grew up in both northern and southern India before relocating to the U.S., where she has lived for several years. She is the author of multicultural contemporary romantic fiction.
The inspiration for her books and other creative projects comes from her own experience with cross-cultural traditions, lifestyles and familial relationships, as well as stories and anecdotes collected from friends, family and acquaintances.
Rao enjoys exploring the dynamics of contemporary American culture blended with Indian customs and heritage to reflect the challenges and opportunities many Indian-American women face in real life.
Much of Rao's down time is devoted to creative pursuits, including writing fiction, poetry and photography. She is an avid traveler and has visited many locations around the world.
A practicing physician, Rao lives in Denver with her family. Her published works include Inconvenient Relations and The Accidental Wife. She is currently at work on her next release.

Contact the Author:
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Footprints by Nicky Jayne

Title : Footprints

Author: Nicky Jayne

As a young child, Riley Crass watched helplessly from an oil stained tarmac in her mother's embrace as her father walks into the belly of the air force transport plane, taking him away from her. Throughout Riley's life, her mother alone raised her while her father was away fighting a destructive war. When tragedy struck, her father is ripped away from ever returning, and Riley vows she would never endure this pain again. Even while memories linger silently, Riley has intentionally avoided ever crossing paths with military men, but nothing prepared her when she collided with Tanner Baker.

An average guy he was not. From a distance Tanner was everything any woman would want but deep down hidden beneath his war torn skin is the heart of a broken Hero. Joining the military as soon as he was old enough, Tanner ran away from what he felt was holding him back the most but after time learned that family is the one constant the on rock he has to lean on. It took a tragedy to realize this, that was until he met Riley Crass....

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Nicky Jayne, was born and raised in the UK. Always having a passion for numbers she received her bachelors degree in business and finance, but after her long affair with numbers, she decided to take another path. Not phased by the hurdles that she would more than likely face she began writing, instantly falling in love with her words. What was supposed to be one short story turned into a series. 

She releases Embracing Life in September 2013, followed shortly by Embracing Love in October 2013. In her spare time, when not chasing her children around with a vacuum cleaner, carpooling to sports, drooling over her military man (its the uniform) and overseeing a mass of sleepovers. She loves to read, with a cup of English tea in her hand and the Nevada sunset in front of her. Nicky Jayne has released six books to date..

 Head on over and check them out. The Embrace Series: Embracing Life Embracing Love The Deception Series: Footprints Taking Flight Grounded Forgiven.. Coming Late summer 2015.... Entwined. "Sometimes a happily ever after isn't enough."

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