Book Blitz: Shades of Love By Candy Laine

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Publisher: Candy Laine (Indie published)
Publication Date: 11 May 2016
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services LLC
Language: English
Genre: Romance


An anthology of short stories exploring the emotion of love in all it’s aspects. The love between a mother and son, a criminal and a stranger, an army officer and his wife, painful teenage crushes, second chance romances with twists in the tale and more.

Reader Reviews

These are sweet, romantic short stories (though not necessarily ‘romance’) similar to what you might find in Guideposts. Most of the stories are set in India. All have an uplifting feel, with wonderful imagery and a realistic cadence which will make you feel like you are visiting that country. Some of the stories have the unusual theme of romance centered around film production, something you don’t see everyday. My favorite story was ‘Grace’s Miracle’ which had a fun twist that I don’t want to spoil, but you will laugh and say ‘a-hah!’ I also enjoyed ‘Afghan Adventure’, to see the troubles through a India Army soldier’s eyes.” – Anna Erishkigal

This is a heartwarming book, perfect for cozying up during the long winter evenings. All short stories are woven with love and sparkle with many hues. The stories flow easily and all have an element of surprise, an unexpected twist. These are not run of the mill romances. Pick a copy to read on a flight or gift one to someone dear. These are all stories to stir your soul and bring a smile.” –  Neyz

It would be great if you can add this book to your TBR

Read an excerpt

Available on Kindle Unlimited

Candy Laine worked as a Search Engine Optimization content writer and dabbled in Social Media Marketing for nine years before she realized she was starving her creative soul. That’s when she went back to creative writing. Today she enjoys feeding her soul as she drinks green tea, meditates, burns candles, practices Reiki and occasionally smacks people who annoy her.

Her husband and son usually keep her busy baking cakes and pies. She’s lived in over 30 homes following her fauji father and husband all over the country. Currently she calls the city of Pune her home. In her spare time, which isn’t much, she manages to escape into her make belief world populated with eccentric characters who just want to be loved.

Click here to check out all the titles by the author…

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Book Blitz: The Ramyeon Girl by Nethra A.

One afternoon, Lee Jung-Su, a star at the peak of his career meets Meena at a ramyeon shop, and thenceforth things take a turn. He gradually grows to like her, but encounters racism first-hand as he falls for the Indian girl. Celebrities don’t have it easy, especially not in South Korea. His fresh approach towards acting and the consequences of his relationship with Meena changes his perspectives of black and white, of good and bad, of reality and fantasy.

It would be great if you can add this book to your TBR

Based in Bangalore, Nethra is a post-graduate in Business Administration from Christ University Institute of Management and is a graduate in Computer Science & Engineering from University Visvesvarya College of Engineering-Bangalore. She is a voracious reader and a fiction writer, who puts quality writing over everything else. Her interest in good stories and writing made her start Fablery Mediaworks, a media house and a publisher of novellas and graphic novels.

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The Worst Daughter Ever – What Critics Are Saying

This is a collection of all the reviews The Worst Daughter Ever is receiving. This collection will be updated regularly. The Worst Daughter Ever is published by Rupa Publications and is available at bookstores worldwide via Amazon, Flipkart and local bookstores.

  1. Arti Metroreader Says
  2. A L’ouest Says
  3. TheReadingCorner Says
  4. Kohleyed Me/Muffy Tales Says
  5. Kavita Rajesh Says
  6. Meldramatic Bookworm Says
  7. Enakshi Johri (Alive Shadow) Says
  8. Meenakshi Ramakrishnan Says
  9. Padmajha Suresh Says
  10. Shilpa Suraj Says

The Struggle Is Real

There are three, at the most, four people in the wide world (virtual and
otherwise) who know what a hot neurotic mess I really am. Writer Gal has
*issues* peeps – some of them have been solved and shelved away neatly, while others rear their ugly heads from time to time.

Today, the issue bits have turned me into a piping hot mess and, I figure,
it’s time to share this aspect of my life with y’all. The ugly, messy, full of
self-doubt, and epic meltdowns part.

The last two months have been crazy hard on me – personally and
professionally. Oh, not because of setbacks but because of the sheer amount of stuff that I needed to handle and take care of, on every single front. All
while battling an insane case of sinusitis which finally only cleared after I religiously did something called a nasal wash (try it, next time your nose is blocked. It is fucking magic!)

I did the final read through of The Worst Daughter Ever on the day of my grandfather’s cremation because deadlines wait for nothing.

Yep, the book where I wrote about a beloved grandparent passing on was actually put to bed on the day my beloved grandparent passed away. The sheer, heart-breaking irony of it was like fate actually laughing at my words.

*Tears were shed, peeps. Tears. Were. Shed.*

I had to see my mom suffer through almost a decade of chronic, nagging pain, plus five years of her losing weight and appetite and finally two months of intense physical therapy to emerge the strong, confident, victorious woman she always has been for me. All while literally keeping our large, grieving family together with nothing more than her steely spine and titanium knee.

I watched my father cry. Really weep copiously and I don’t think I’ll ever
recover from it

In the middle of all the personal upheavals, a super-secret extremely cool
project was started and ended in three days.

My friends and I started an amazing new venture to talk about that most
stigmatic of all topics – romance! And the bonds of community beat all else,
hands down.

Another cool project was brainstormed on my way back from an epically cool event just last week in the rickshaw ride, start to finish.

Two books were released, one in a beloved series that people wait patiently
for. The second one, the one about the grieving granddaughter, is now
out. And book releases involve a kind of pumped energy I sometimes don’t really have.

Because, and this is the kicker, talking about stuff that matters to me
scares me. Makes me feel ashamed. Makes me feel small. Like I am not worthy of it.

The tasks seem never-ending and always far-fetched and that’s how they are supposed to be if we want to achieve the extraordinary and my mom has always encouraged me to do so but…

There is no earthly explanation for this, except, the more I do when my task
lists are all clear for the day – the less I feel I have done.

The less I actually am.

It’s not about comparisons, because that is a rabbit hole I try and avoid as
much as I can. But…sometimes, not always, not every day, I struggle.

I struggle with balancing responsibilities at home and at work. I struggle
with being enough. With loving myself even when I feel I’m not worthy of it, like today. I struggle with being okay with finishing tasks on my task list and not adding more to it.

I struggle with the most horrible thought a writer, this writer, can ever
have – What if the book I wrote last was the last one I’ll ever write?

I usually vent to my three-four persons who roll their eyes, give me hugs,
pat me on the back and say, woman take the day off. But, today the day seems endless and the struggle is real.

If there is one resolution I’d like to keep from this birthday, it would be to not let the struggle get me down. And to know, with every particle of my being, that I’ll be fighting fit tomorrow. Because, I always am! 

Until next time,

Writer Gal


Phase Four

Mixing it up with the Writer Gal Letters are short stories that I experiment with, for form, for storytelling, for exploring the darkest, most heinous side of human nature. And, because my MA lit prof once told me I could never write a short story.

Phase Four is part six of a short titled ‘Remorseless Beauty.’ I hope you enjoy it.

Short Story (7)


“Oh my god. OH MY GOD,” I shook my head in negation as Nurse Theresa explained that Ginger had been let go.

Because well, the common term was, she’d snapped. Right at her sick, beaten daughter’s bedside. She’d started screaming and had to be finally sedated. Which is where she was right now.

Sedated. In her own little room in the psych ward, where she was on suicide watch. It was so pathetic and sad. And who’d have thought something like that was hiding beneath Ginger’s exterior.

Nobody mentioned the nightly visits that Ned the Janitor was paying her. Nobody mentioned anything. It was too horrible. Too grotesque.

Like somebody’s nightmare had come true.

Delilah Appleton died three days after she was hospitalized from severe internal bleeding, multiple injuries and blunt head trauma that couldn’t be detected because she never regained consciousness.

Ginger Appleton had been restrained in a psych room until further evaluation.

After about six weeks, I went in to look at my favorite nurse. She was behind a locked door. A holding cell. Dressed in hospital greens, looking as lifeless as a corpse could look. Her eyes were wild with terror and grief. And something resembling hatred.

I looked at her, and sighed a little.

I have always been aware of my own power. The best and the worst in me. And I have always strived to do better than both. It’s not nature, it is compulsion. It’s what I was born with.

The most destructive of my tendencies, the most perfect of my behaviors, I have embraced them both and made apologies for neither. It’s not an admirable trait, but I don’t want to be admired.

To be figured out, to be understood is just one layer of how we operate. And I like my level better. The capability, the power of illusion, of being able to manipulate destinies is so much more. Ginger and her daughter were the rabbits in my hat.

Breaking her, in the end, had been so easy.

And I went out with Trev on one side of my wheelchair. And my parents on the other. My time in the hospital had been well-spent. And as I locked that picture of Ginger’s snapped eyes in my head for all time to come, I whispered to myself.

Phase Four, check.

I drove away from the hospital with my family close beside me. It seemed, after all, that I could do anything I wanted. To ruin someone, to manipulate their destiny, to be able to commit monstrous acts without a qualm or remorse, what kind of person would do that?

What reasons would there be for doing something like that?

I gave you mine.

I wonder, though, sometimes, is it enough?