By Poonam Sharma
With meticulous profession making plans and a pair of soiled martinis, there's little or no that long island urban funding banker Vina Chopra cannot do. And now that sh's determined to get fascinated by if nding her mate, there's little or no that Vina will not try—even if it skill letting her mom and dad get entangled. in spite of everything, what does she need to lose? Her longest-term courting up to now has been with the ulcer she eventually named Fred (unless you count number the ex-boyfriend who will not pass away). Amid a sequence of dates with 'the great Indian health professional' and an workplace scandal that may completely finish her profession, Vina begins to query every little thing sh's been operating for. Who has she been attempting to please these kind of years? is that this the lifestyles that she fairly desires? Can she if nally discover ways to set aside her family's expectancies lengthy sufficient and develop into the woman probably to if nd a happiness all her personal?
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Extra info for Girl Most Likely To (Red Dress Ink Novels)
Example text
I had learned this early about my parents, and decided around the same time that the best way to maneuver my Indian and American cultural identities would be to keep certain things about myself to myself. I knew that I had overreacted in the coatroom. And I was as sure that I needed help as I was mortified to have finally come looking for it. Twisting in my plastic seat, I cupped the bruise on my knee while committing the Five Cs of the Closeted Claustrophobes to memory: Check for exits, Close your eyes, Count to ten, Calm your nerves, Center yourself.
In fact, I don’t want to get you started on anything at the moment because my chariot has pulled up to the ball. ” 2 Red rose petals littered golden tablecloths. Gleaming china settings and generous floral arrangements adorned each table. The air was delicately scented. Votives flickered on every surface, fading in comparison to the luster of the many rubies, emeralds and diamonds gliding around the ballroom. Waiters circled the tables while craning their necks to scan the room of the three hundred guests; the servers were determined not to leave any glass unfilled, any mouth unstuffed or any whim unattended.
I imagined him running the twenty blocks between his restaurant and my building, and the ten f lights up to my door. Love is the only thing in life that is not anticlimactic; and as much as I hated to admit it, seeing him in my doorway made me feel like I was home. Jon was tall, dark and Sicilian, in that broad-shouldered, olive-complexioned sort of a way, so I often told myself that we looked good together. We met in his restaurant, Peccavi, eighteen months ago when I requested a rare vintage of Chateau Cabrieres for myself and my girlfriends.