More Than Just Desire
by Summerita Rhayne
Blurb
The Bollywood diva who regrets nothing...
Piya walked out of an explosive situation three years ago. Now she's back in Bollywood and wants to regain the crown that she left behind when she ran away from Arfaaz. It seems everyone who used to idolize her has forgotten her. In the competitive world of starry glamour, the only way she can restart her career is trash the past and make some waves.
The man who wants her atonement..
Arfaaz is determined to get his revenge on Piya for making a farce of their marriage and then leaving him to face the mudslinging. He forces her to keep up the appearances and stay with him so she can play the loving wife and repent on her sins. But he finds Piya isn't so easy to handle. She drives him crazy with her antics. On the top of that the attraction between them sizzles and threatens to make him forget reason.
Conflict clashes with desire..
No matter how intense the passion between them gets, their ways are bound to diverge. Piya knows she cannot let this man find a way into her heart. There is too much to risk and she cannot afford to forget the real reason she has come back. Success is the only mantra she knows and really, all Arfaaz wants is revenge…
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EXCERPT
‘You’ll divorce me?’ The sense of anticlimax she felt annoyed her. Why wouldn’t he, for God’s sake? She’d been far from an ideal partner. No man wanted a three year estranged wife surely? Or why would he allow her to remain away for so long?
For no logical reason, the knowledge had a sharp edge, stabbing her insides deeply.
Arfaaz’s gaze was fixed on the flush deepening on her cheeks. The colour of anger...or joy at getting her freedom?
It had been a mistake to pick her up in his arms, to give in to the urge to subdue that stubborn defiance. Three years since he’d touched her, yet her bones felt as delicate under his hands as the night he’d gripped her shoulders in anger. Evoking the same remorse one might feel for handling a bird badly.
She had worn a metal colored dress that night. He could still feel the slithery fabric beneath his fingers. Another of her risqué dresses, with deceptively demure full sleeves while the shocker was the back. Which was missing. He had never objected to what she wore, though primitive instincts protested. She had a media image to maintain. He hadn’t wanted to act the possessive husband.
A mistake, he thought again. Even the brief brush of her body against his had lit a spark that reminded him of how possessive he’d wanted to be.
She had taken enough advantage of him. The grim thought rose from a host of emotions. He’d suffered, he’d been fooled, he’d been dumped. Was he going to take it all and let her go as easy as pie?
‘If you want a divorce, you’ll have to do a small favour for me first,’ he told her.
‘Favour?’
‘Something which is important to me. Then you’ll be free to go.’
‘I will?’
He shrugged, letting her make what she could out of it.
‘Anyway, we can’t stand here and talk it out. Come inside. We’ll discuss it over dinner.’
‘Yes, divorce must be one of the prime discussable topics for dinnertime conversation,’ she said waspishly.
‘For everything spectacular Piya the topnotch actress has done, this must be the downslide indeed. To tamely sit across her husband and rationally chat over the break-up of her marriage,’ he jibed harshly.
‘However, I think it’s time for you to take a step down from the pedestal.’
For no logical reason, the knowledge had a sharp edge, stabbing her insides deeply.
Arfaaz’s gaze was fixed on the flush deepening on her cheeks. The colour of anger...or joy at getting her freedom?
It had been a mistake to pick her up in his arms, to give in to the urge to subdue that stubborn defiance. Three years since he’d touched her, yet her bones felt as delicate under his hands as the night he’d gripped her shoulders in anger. Evoking the same remorse one might feel for handling a bird badly.
She had worn a metal colored dress that night. He could still feel the slithery fabric beneath his fingers. Another of her risqué dresses, with deceptively demure full sleeves while the shocker was the back. Which was missing. He had never objected to what she wore, though primitive instincts protested. She had a media image to maintain. He hadn’t wanted to act the possessive husband.
A mistake, he thought again. Even the brief brush of her body against his had lit a spark that reminded him of how possessive he’d wanted to be.
She had taken enough advantage of him. The grim thought rose from a host of emotions. He’d suffered, he’d been fooled, he’d been dumped. Was he going to take it all and let her go as easy as pie?
‘If you want a divorce, you’ll have to do a small favour for me first,’ he told her.
‘Favour?’
‘Something which is important to me. Then you’ll be free to go.’
‘I will?’
He shrugged, letting her make what she could out of it.
‘Anyway, we can’t stand here and talk it out. Come inside. We’ll discuss it over dinner.’
‘Yes, divorce must be one of the prime discussable topics for dinnertime conversation,’ she said waspishly.
‘For everything spectacular Piya the topnotch actress has done, this must be the downslide indeed. To tamely sit across her husband and rationally chat over the break-up of her marriage,’ he jibed harshly.
‘However, I think it’s time for you to take a step down from the pedestal.’
Meet Summerita Rhayne
Summerita Rhayne loves to write sensual and emotional romance. There's no knowing when some quirky - or sometimes even not so quirky - happening in daily life might trigger her right brain and then she's off craving a new story. She loves writing characters who learn and grow and find their way out of their troubles and emotional hang-ups. Hot, sensual heroes and sassy but sweet heroines mostly fit the bill in her stories. She also believes that a touch of humor never goes amiss in a book.
She divides her time between family, job and writing - and loves winding down with music, movies and the internet!
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