I have not read this book
About the book
Olivia can’t take it anymore. She’s
had enough of the big city and it’s lack of fulfilling her dreams. Then, just
when she’s about to give up and move home, out of the blue, she is offered her
dream job. Olivia is suspicious but that could just be the New York
Olivia learns that there is a thin
curtain separating our world from theirs. Just beneath the surface, an entirely
different one exists. One that is controlled by those of Royal lineage. The
chosen ones, the Royals, hold the fate of the world in their hands. Will Olivia
be able to bear the weight of the crown?
Confessions of a Shopaholic meets
The Adjustment Bureau, this contemporary fairytale is both relatable and
aspirational. Taking a look at the current balance of media and power with a
healthy dose of humor, fashion, food and wanderlust.
Read an excerpt
I’m
getting a very weird feeling. I consider turning around and leaving, but
getting a cab on a cold rainy night before 2AM is going to be tough as they
don’t begin frequenting the area until the bars start to close, and the nearest
Uber appears to be 25 minutes away. Plus, I did go to all of this trouble to
get my lazy self dressed and over here.
There
is a crest engraved in brass metal on the front of the red door, an intricately
designed crown and some lettering. I tilt my head to read it all the way
around. ‘Alea iacta est memores acti prudentes uturi modus operandi’ I read
aloud, and below, ‘Posteriori’. I recognize the language as Latin from the
three weeks we spent on it during Intro to Languages, which was designed to
help us choose one to focus on during our tenure at the university
…
Against
my better judgment, I push on the heavy door, which creaks open. I enter into a
cold stone-walled hall with a stone slab floor, lit by what appears to be a row
of fire lanterns on each side. I guess this place is a bit behind the times in
converting, or maybe they think it’s super ironic and hipster to not jump on
the modernization bandwagon. Or maybe it’s me. I’m not exactly the authority on
architectural trends. Maybe converted vintage is over and re-vintaged vintage
is back in. Ugh, I can’t wait until I’m old and have an excuse not to be hip.
I
walk down a windy stone hallway that seems straight out of a period film. Wow,
they are really taking this theme seriously. How cool would it be if this stuff
was authentic? I take a few pictures with my phone just in case. I mean as
Cultures Editor, it’s always nice to be the one to discover the next big thing,
like Connor said.
As
I round the corner I hear, before I see, a British male mumbling to himself,
apparently in debate.
“It’s
so bizarre. But it couldn’t be. Could it? Stranger things have happened.”
I
find myself face to face with a short-ish man, though taller than me, with
glasses, wearing a sports coat with suede elbow patches. I scream in surprise
and jump about five feet in the air. He seems slightly taken aback as well but
less jumpy than me, or at least less vocal about it. He’s good looking in an
intellectual sort of way and his dark floppy hair is conservatively combed
back. I’m not sure if he’s startled by our unexpected encounter or my scream,
but he does a bit of a double back.
“Sorry,”
he recovers charmingly, “I didn’t see you there.”
“No,
me either.” I try to breathe. I feel like I know him from somewhere.”
“Stuart
Stephens.” He proffers his hand in greeting.
“Olivia
Grace Thorpland.” I shake his in return. “But you can call me Gigi.”
“Hello,
Gigi. Nice to meet you.” He is impeccably mannered even after our near death
collision. Must be the British thing.
“So
are you here for the party too?” I inquire. “Do you know where it is?”
“Party?”
he asks, confused. “No, I just had a meeting here.”
“Ah,
I see,” I say, although I don’t, given the hour. I definitely know him from
somewhere. Got it, he’s a comedian.
“Well,
care to join me anyway?” I offer politely. After all, he’s British, I’m being a
good ambassador. He appears a bit bewildered.
“No,
thanks. I best be going.”
“Are
you sure? My friends are in there.”
“Really?
Your friends are in there?” He seems surprised to see where I’m gesturing.
“Yup,”
I tell him confidently.
“Oh,
well, thanks for the invite, but I’m completely sure. Thanks anyway,” comes his
nervous reply. “But, can I ask you a question?” I nod. “Is this all, um,
kosher?”
“I,
I, don’t know.” I hesitate. Is he Jewish and British? Is that a thing?
“Well,
I’ll let you get on “he says. “Have a good night.”
“You
too. Bye,” I reply. And with that, we walk off in opposite directions.
Finally,
I reach a semi-circled entryway that has the option of five doors, one straight
ahead and two on either side. These are not your ordinary doors either. They
are heavy, arched, rustic, dark brown, slated wooden doors. I’m not really in
the mood to crash a wedding reception, murder, or worse, a live band
performance; and, given that anything could be behind these doorways, I’m about
to give up on this expedition completely, when one of the doors, the entryway
smack dab in the center, starts to creak open, apparently of its own accord. A
feeling of unexpected dread overtakes me. I brace myself, unsure of what to
expect to find behind it.”
Buy the book
About the author
An international upbringing
and a love of stories laid the foundation for wanderlust. Shalini aspires to
spend her time country-hopping and consuming pop-culture, comedy and good food
but the reality is often frantically downing coffee, meeting deadlines at
exactly the last second and working her unglamorous corporate job to fund all
of the other pursuits.
The Secret Lives of Royals
is Shalini’s debut novel. Her other work includes published poetry and scripts
only she has read.
SOCIAL MEDIA AND WEBSITE
LINKS
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https://m.facebook.com/ShaliniDuaBooks/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ShaliniDua126
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https://www.instagram.com/ididntmeantofeelanything/
Website:
www.shalinidua.com/books
Giveaway
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ReplyDeleteEnjoyed the excerpt.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Kim! So glad you enjoyed reading the excerpt.
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