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Natasha Bennett, a 22-year-old aspiring writer, is no stranger to rejection—fifteen failed proposals in three months, to be exact. Just when she’s ready to throw in the towel, she makes one last attempt at a top New York entertainment studio. The result? Another rejection… and an embarrassing mistake that she’d rather forget. But then, things get weird. She suddenly has a stalker, and out of nowhere, the same studio that rejected her changes its mind. Excited, she rushes to the meeting—only to find the ridiculously arrogant (and annoyingly attractive) producer blackmailing her into a three-month dating contract. Now stuck in a fake relationship filled with chaos, awkward moments, and unexpected chemistry, Natasha must survive the deal without losing her mind… or her heart.

Misha thinks Soren is the perfect boyfriend-material. He is utterly handsome, kind, and helpful even to strangers. And he even comes with a bonus: he’s a billionaire. But Soren’s own family are saying otherwise. They are telling everyone that Soren is a drug addict, a sex addict, a kleptomaniac and an incorrigible liar. And Misha’s family seem to believe all those wicked rumors about Soren and they want her to steer clear of him. Misha’s mind is telling her to run away from Soren and avoid him but her heart is telling her to run towards him and stay with him. Who to believe? What to believe?

Pretty Layla, an ordinary employee burdened and haunted by a dark past, meets Ambert, a handsome billionaire whose image is pristine. When he starts showing interest on her, she promptly avoids her as she doesn't believe that a man like Ambert, rich, powerful and with an unsullied reputation, would truly fall for a woman like her. But Ambert perseveres and pursues her, exerting all efforts to show that he truly loves her. Layla's heart eventually surrenders. But soon, she discovers the painful truth that Ambert isn't really innocent and is actually a major part of her dark past.

Abigail Kinsington has lived a shelter life, stuck under the thumb of her domineering and abusive father. When his shady business dealings land him in trouble, some employees seeking retribution kidnap her as a punishment for her father. But while being held captive, she begins to fall for one of her captors, a misunderstood guy who found himself in over his head after going along with the crazy scheme of a co-worker. She falls head over heels for him. When she is rescued, she is sent back to her father and he is sent to jail. She thinks she has found a friend in a sympathetic police officer, who understands her. But when he tries turns on her, she wonders how real their connection is? Trapped in a dangerous love triangle between her kidnapper and her rescuer, Abby is more confused than she has ever been. Will she get out from under her father's tyrannical rule? Will she get to be with the man she loves? Does she even know which one that is? Danger, deception and dark obsession turn her dull life into a high stakes game of cat and mouse. Will she survive?

Meera Gupta, daughter of Niyati and Manish is an architect who comes back to India, after a long interval to visit her ailing grandfather, Prithviraj, whom she is most attached to. Her grandfather's last wish is getting her married and even though Meera is commitment phobic she knew she couldn't rest without fulfilling her grandfather's last wish. Arjun, son of Shantanu and Pratibha Goenka is a young man, working with his father and brothers for Goenka Constructions. He isn't ready for marriage, especially not arranged as he considers all the girls considered for his marriage to be immature and materialistic. The real fact is also that he isn't ready for marriage owing to the baggage from his past. Arjun's younger brother is Aakash is married to Divya who is Meera's cousin and confidante. To make matters worse for Arjun and Meera, Shantanu gives his word to Prithviraj to ensure that Arjun and Meera are married. To headstrong characters, who aren't ready for marriage are woven into a relationship, will they ever fall in love? Is love the only thing you need to make a marriage work?

I have always had an almost pathological sense of paranoia. Ever since I was a child, I was convinced that the people around me were out to get me. Back in elementary school, when everyone was lining up for their student ID photos, I flatly refused to have mine taken. I insisted that the district office was going to use my picture for identity theft. The situation escalated so badly that the principal had to personally sit me down and spend half an hour trying to convince me otherwise. Then, there was the fingerprint registration system in middle school. The school required every student to submit their fingerprints to access the campus buildings. I was so terrified that someone would steal my biometric data that I literally rubbed the skin off all ten fingertips to make them unreadable. Even when my fingers were bleeding, I kept shouting that they were trying to steal my identity. I would rather climb over the school fence every day than cooperate. Every relative I had called me crazy. My parents were so fed up that they seriously considered having me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I did not care. I guarded my privacy with obsessive determination, gritting my teeth and holding my ground all the way up to the eve of the final exams. Then came the day before the exam. That afternoon, our homeroom teacher, Tracy Collins, walked into the classroom carrying a metal lockbox. A warm, motherly smile spread across her face as she set it down on the desk. "Everyone," she said, "to make sure nobody forgets their documents tomorrow, I'd like you to hand over your IDs and exam admission slips for safekeeping tonight." She patted the lockbox reassuringly. "Tomorrow morning, I'll personally return them to each of you outside the testing center. This way, there's absolutely nothing that can go wrong." The class was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness. Some students even looked close to tears as they eagerly pulled out their documents and lined up to hand them over. Everyone except me. My hand clamped down over my pocket so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Cold sweat poured down my back. A sharp alarm bell was ringing in my head. Trying not to attract attention, I fished out a spare flip phone from my bag, ducked beneath my desk, and dialed emergency services. As soon as the call connected, I lowered my voice and spoke into the receiver. "Hello. I'd like to report a crime. My name is Charles. "I believe a teacher at St. Alden High is working with an identity-fraud ring and is planning a large-scale operation tonight involving examination fraud and identity theft."