Published books

Unwillingly Yours

Noor Jafri knows how rich families keep women like her in place: with smiles, side doors, envelopes, and gratitude sharp enough to cut. When the Malik family summons her to repair a failing bridal heirloom days before a high-society wedding, Noor takes the job for the money-and the rules. No favors. No staying. No letting their polished kindness become a leash. Then she opens the sleeve and finds her late mother's hidden stitch signature. Shazia Jafri's hands once kept Malik women beautiful. The family used her work, removed her name, and taught the silence to look respectable. Rehan Malik was raised to protect that respectability. Controlled, privileged, and trained to make damage disappear, he should treat Noor as a risk to manage. Instead, her precision, pride, and refusal become the one force his careful life cannot contain. Their desire begins in locked rooms and half-lit worktables, but every private touch threatens to turn Noor into another woman hidden for the family's comfort. When the dress, a stolen photograph, and Shazia's name force Rehan to choose, love will not be measured by what he feels in private. It will be measured by the hand he offers where everyone can see.

Divorce Not Legal There

In the Rizvi house, no one says a girl is being given away. They say the guests are respectable. They say the tea is ready. They say a father knows what he is doing. Maham Rizvi believed them once. Then Salman Rizvi, the father she loved more than anyone, let Haroon Malik enter their home as the answer to debts, rumors, and family shame. By the time Maham understood she was the answer, everyone else had already learned what not to say. Haroon did not need to be cruel in public. That was the worst part. He was calm. Older. Patient. Generous in the way men are praised for generosity when no one asks what the gift costs. In his house, keys became kindness. Locked gates became protection. Gold bangles became proof that Maham had been looked after. She learned how a woman survives when leaving is possible somewhere on paper but impossible inside the rooms that raised her. Then Aayat's sleeves are measured. Same house. Same careful women. Same sweet tea. Same father looking away from the girl who still trusts him. This time, Maham knows what is being prepared. And this time, when the men lower their voices, she interrupts. Not because she is fearless. Because the first man who treated her like property was not her husband. It was her father.

Escaping the Marriage

**She didn't leave because she stopped loving her son. She left because her daughter had started apologizing for being afraid.** For years, Zoya's life has been shaped by the quiet, suffocating precision of her husband's control. Javed is not a man who shouts. He is a man who manages reality - setting the temperature, scripting the family narrative, ensuring that every feeling Zoya has is labeled unstable, sensitive, or selfish. He does not rage. He corrects. She thought she could endure it. Then she watched her son change. At twelve, Hamza has stopped being a witness. He has become an echo - learning his father's cadences, his father's silences, his father's particular way of making a woman feel she is the problem. And Zoya understands, with the slow horror of something she has always known: the boy she loves has already been claimed. He is not a child she can take. He is, now, the lock on the door. She leaves. She takes her daughter, Sara. She leaves Hamza behind. This is not a story of rescue or revenge or clean, triumphant escape. It is a portrait of a mother making the most devastating calculation a woman can make - saving the child who can still be saved, and learning to live with the one she couldn't. While the world, led by the man who owns the truth, waits patiently to call her monstrous. In a home built on the pretense of peace, Zoya has finally understood: silence is not a shield. It is a curriculum. And she is finished teaching her daughter how to disappear.

We Have to Sell This Lie

**THEY NEEDED A WIFE. THEY CHOSE A SACRIFICE.** Saira Khalid knew her marriage was an arrangement. She didn't know it was a performance. On her wedding night, there is no passion-only a whispered apology from a husband who is as gentle as he is unreachable. By dawn, Saira realizes her true role: not as a wife, but as the centerpiece in a carefully curated facade. Adeel Rahman isn't cruel, but he is a stranger, and in the suffocating silence of his family home, Saira is being systematically erased. She is the perfect accessory to the lie. She is the shadow that makes Adeel look whole. But when she discovers the family is already grooming Adeel's younger sister for the same hollow existence, Saira's complicity turns to rage. In a household where silence is demanded, reputation is weaponized, and her own unhappiness is dismissed as a failure of grace, she realizes she is the only person who can shatter the glass. But the truth is a dangerous currency in a family that prides itself on image. To claim her life, Saira must decide which is more terrifying: the domestic cage they've built for her, or the scandal she'll create when she burns it down.

The Man on the Run

Eva Hrubá is a ghost in the Varga House atelier. Her job is simple: stitch the gowns, keep the service doors locked, and ensure the wealthy clients never see the hands that dress them. Hours before the society wedding of the year, the bridegroom disappears. Eva finds him hiding in her workroom, his clothes disheveled, his public persona shattered. He doesn't want a savior; he wants ten minutes of silence. She gives it to him, and in exchange, the walls of the Varga estate begin to close in. Tomáš Varga is a man built to be looked at, but he is at his most dangerous when he is hidden. As the pressure to return to his life-and his bride-mounts, Eva realizes he isn't just looking for a place to hide. He is looking for someone to keep him there. Eva has spent her life being invisible to men like him. But if she is going to be the one who saves him, she won't do it from the shadows. She's going to make him pay for every minute he steals.

Walk of Shame at Sunrise

When Siri Bunnak walks out of Room 1208, she has six thousand baht in her bag, blood on her foot, and a target on her back. Upstairs, the man she left behind is still breathing, but the Meridian Palm hotel doesn't care about the truth. They care about reputations. By the time Narong Saetang finds her, the hotel has already decided who the villain is-and it isn't the wealthy American in the penthouse. Siri didn't steal the money; she collected what was owed. But in her world, the truth is a death sentence, and she's never been good at playing the victim. Now, the danger has shifted to her sister, Mali. A stranger named Thanapat has offered Mali everything-a job, protection, and a future-but Siri knows a trap when she sees one. To save her sister, Siri must walk back into the room where it all started. The men in power have already written her story. Now, she has to decide: tell the pretty lie to survive, or burn the narrative down with the truth.

RICH MEN HAVE OPTIONS

**In Katherine Fairchild's world, reputation is the only currency that matters-and hers is already overdrawn.** Katherine survives in the orbit of the ultra-wealthy by being invisible: elegant, useful, and entirely untraceable. She is the consultant who cleans up the messes they are too powerful to acknowledge. As long as she remains in the background, she is safe. Then, Grant Ellsworth intervenes. When he corrects a public slight against her, he doesn't just offer help-he paints a target on her back. In his world, a woman is defined by her proximity to power, and Grant's "protection" is being cataloged by the city's elite as a high-stakes affair. Every favor becomes evidence of leverage. Every silent invitation becomes a risk profile. Grant is offering her the career-defining access she has killed herself to earn. But Katherine knows the price: to accept his protection is to be owned by his name. To refuse him is to lose everything she has built-leaving her to choose between the safety of his shadow or the ruin of her independence.

Leave Before You're Left

He parked under her window with the engine ticking hot, a route call unanswered, and his keys still in his hand. She opened the door in hospital socks, wrist taped wrong, and said, "Don't stand there like you care." He had brought water. Food. Bandages. The kind of help that looked decent until morning came and his boots moved toward the hall. She stopped eating the extra plate and started locking the door before he reached it. She worked twelve hours, came home shaking, and still snapped at any hand that reached too close. He could wrap her wrist, but he could not make leaving safe. She could want him on the bathroom floor and still hate his name in her mouth. Every route gave him somewhere else to be. Every sore foot, cold mug, and truck engine under her window gave her another reason to leave first. Neither of them asked for love. They asked for proof and punished the answer. No vows. No rescue. No clean forgiveness. Just one truck parked below her light, one door left half-open, and two people too tired to pretend leaving does not count. \*Stay badly, or leave me clean.\*

Love on the Rocks

Xii has always trusted what moves. Tracks. Herds. Wind. Feet crossing sand before the sun hardens the marks. Movement has kept him skilled, necessary, and free from anything that might ask him to stay. Tcebebe trusts what can be made to hold. A load tied correctly. A reed mat loosened enough to breathe. A hide softened through work. A shelter that can be lifted before it becomes a cage. She is the woman everyone turns to when hunger asks for more than anyone should carry. When drought bends the old routes and pushes the community toward rocky ground, Xii and Tcebebe become unlikely partners in survival. Their bond grows through labor, not promises; through touch withheld, care refused, and the dangerous relief of being understood by someone who has no right to understand so much. He has to learn that returning does not mean being trapped. She has to learn that accepting care does not mean being owned. Together, they build something imperfect, necessary, and strong enough to survive the season.