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๐–๐ก๐š๐ญ๐ž๐ฏ๐ž๐ซ ๐˜๐จ๐ฎ ๐๐ซ๐ž๐Ÿ๐ž๐ซ

The dawn light was pale and clear, washing the room in a soft gold. Olive awoke to an emptiness. The warmth at her back was gone. The arm around her waist was gone. She was alone in the vast bed.

For a moment, she felt a startling pang of loss. Then, the confusion rushed back in, coloured now with a shade of shame. Had she wanted him to stay? Had she begun toโ€ฆ enjoy it? The thought was blasphemous against her lifelong training.

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Supriya R. Singh

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I'm an author with lots of love and flaws, and I write books where women know their worth and men know how to be men. You won't find alpha or sigma males in my stories, but rather human beings who have been misunderstood by society. I don't write villains or heroes; I write those who deserve to be written.

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Supriya R. Singh

โ•ฐโ”ˆโžค๐…๐ž๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐ข๐ฌ๐ญ ๐Ÿ๐ซ๐จ๐ฆ ๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡ณ ๐”๐ญ๐ญ๐š๐ซ ๐๐ซ๐š๐๐ž๐ฌ๐ก โแด˜แดแด‡แด›แด‡ss โ€ข แดกส€ษชแด›แด‡ส€ โ€ข สŸแด‡แด€ส€ษดแด‡ส€โ โ€œ๐˜๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ง๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ฎ๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ญ ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ด.โ€

My Completed Works