Sneak Preview of ‘Inferno’ By Dan Brown


All artwork, literature, science, and historical references in this novel are real.

‘The Consortium’ is a private organization with offices in seven countries. Its name has been changed for considerations of security and privacy.

Inferno is the underworld as described in Dante Alighieri’s epic poem The Divine Comedy, which portrays hell as an elaborately structured realm populated by entities known as ‘shades’ – bodiless souls trapped between life and death.


I am the Shade.

Through the dolent city, I flee.Through the eternal woe, I take flight.

Along the banks of the river Arno, I scramble, breathless . . . turning left onto Via dei Castellani, making my way northward, huddling in the shadows of the Uffizi.

And still they pursue me.

Their footsteps grow louder now as they hunt with relentless determination.

For years they have pursued me. Their persistencehas kept me underground . . . forced me to live in purgatory. . . laboring beneath the earth like a chthonic monster.

I am the Shade.

Here above ground, I raise my eyes to the north, but I am unable to find a direct path to salvation . . . for the Apennine Mountains are blotting out the first light of dawn.

I pass behind the palazzo with its crenellated tower and one-handed clock . . . snaking through the early morning vendors in Piazza di San Firenze with their hoarse voices smelling of lampredotto and roasted olives. Crossing before the Bargello, I cut west toward the spire of the Badia and come up hard against the iron gate at the base of the stairs.

Here all hesitation must be left behind.

I turn the handle and step into the passage from which I know there will be no return. I urge my leaden legs up the narrow staircase . . . spiraling skyward on soft marble treads, pitted and worn.

The voices echo from below. Beseeching. They are behind me, unyielding, closing in.

They do not understand what is coming . . . nor what I have done for them!

Ungrateful land!

As I climb, the visions come hard . . . the lustful bodies writhing in fiery rain, the gluttonous souls

floating in excrement, the treacherous villains frozen in Satan’s icy grasp.

I climb the final stairs and arrive at the top, staggering near dead into the damp morning air. I rush to the head-high wall, peering through the slits. Far below is the blessed city that I have made my sanctuary from those who exiled me.

The voices call out, arriving close behind me. ‘What you’ve done is madness!’

Madness breeds madness.

‘For the love of God,’ they shout, ‘tell us where you’ve hidden it!’

For precisely the love of God, I will not.

I stand now, cornered, my back to the cold stone. They stare deep into my clear green eyes, and their expressions darken, no longer cajoling, but threatening.

‘You know we have our methods. We can force you to tell us where it is.’

For that reason, I have climbed halfway to heaven.

Without warning, I turn and reach up, curling my fingers onto the high ledge, pulling myself up, scrambling onto my knees, then standing . . . unsteady at the precipice. Guide me, dear Virgil, across the void.

They rush forward in disbelief, wanting to grab at my feet, but fearing they will upset my balance and knock me off. They beg now, in quiet desperation, but I have turned my back. I know what I must do.

Beneath me, dizzyingly far beneath me, the red tile roofs spread out like a sea of fire on the countryside . . .illuminating the fair land upon which giants once roamed . . . Giotto, Donatello, Brunelleschi, Michelangelo,Botticelli.

I inch my toes to the edge.

‘Come down!’ they shout. ‘It’s not too late!’

O, willful ignorants! Do you not see the future? Do you not grasp the splendor of my creation? The necessity? I gladly make this ultimate sacrifice . . . and with it I will extinguish your final hope of finding what you seek.

You will never locate it in time.

Hundreds of feet below, the cobblestone piazza beckons like a tranquil oasis. How I long for more time. . . but time is the one commodity even my vast fortunes cannot afford.

In these final seconds, I gaze down to the piazza, and I behold a sight that startles me.

I see your face.You are gazing up at me from the shadows. Your eyes are mournful, and yet in them I sense a vener -ation for what I have accomplished. You understand I have no choice. For the love of Mankind, I must protectmy masterpiece.

It grows even now . . . waiting . . . simmering beneath the bloodred waters of the lagoon that reflects no stars.

And so, I lift my eyes from yours and I contemplate the horizon. High above this burdened world, I make my final supplication.

Dearest God, I pray the world remembers my name not as a monstrous sinner, but as the glorious savior you know I truly am. I pray Mankind will understand the gift I leave behind.

My gift is the future.

My gift is salvation.

My gift is Inferno.

With that, I whisper my amen . . . and take my final step, into the abyss.

Chapter 1

The memories materialized slowly . . . like bubbles surfacing from the darkness of a bottomless well.

A veiled woman.

Robert Langdon gazed at her across a river whose churning waters ran red with blood. On the far bank, the woman stood facing him, motionless, solemn, her face hidden by a shroud. In her hand she gripped a blue tainia cloth, which she now raised in honor of the sea of corpses at her feet. The smell of death hung everywhere.

Seek, the woman whispered. And ye shall find.

Langdon heard the words as if she had spoken them inside his head. ‘Who are you?’ he called out, but his voice made no sound.

Time grows short, she whispered. Seek and find.

Langdon took a step toward the river, but he could see the waters were bloodred and too deep to traverse. When Langdon raised his eyes again to the veiled woman, the bodies at her feet had multiplied. There were hundreds of them now, maybe thousands, some still alive, writhing in agony, dying unthinkable deaths. . . consumed by fire, buried in feces, devouring one another. He could hear the mournful cries of human suffering echoing across the water.

The woman moved toward him, holding out her slender hands, as if beckoning for help.

‘Who are you?!’ Langdon again shouted.

In response, the woman reached up and slowly lifted the veil from her face. She was strikingly beautiful, and yet older than Langdon had imagined—in her sixties perhaps, stately and strong, like a timeless statue. She had a sternly set jaw, deep soulful eyes, and long, silver-gray hair that cascaded over her shoulders in ringlets. An amulet of lapis lazuli hung around her neck—a single snake coiled around a staff.

Langdon sensed he knew her . . . trusted her. But how? Why?

She pointed now to a writhing pair of legs, which protruded upside down from the earth, apparently belonging to some poor soul who had been buried headfirst to his waist. The man’s pale thigh bore a single letter—written in mud—R.

R? Langdon thought, uncertain. As in . . . Robert? ‘Is that . . . me?’

The woman’s face revealed nothing. Seek and find, she repeated.

Without warning, she began radiating a white light. . . brighter and brighter. Her entire body started vibrating intensely, and then, in a rush of thunder, she exploded into a thousand splintering shards of light. Langdon bolted awake, shouting.

The room was bright. He was alone. The sharp smell of medicinal alcohol hung in the air, and somewhere a machine pinged in quiet rhythm with his heart.

Langdon tried to move his right arm, but a sharp pain restrained him. He looked down and saw an IV tugging at the skin of his forearm.

His pulse quickened, and the machines kept pace, pinging more rapidly.

Where am I? What happened?

The back of Langdon’s head throbbed, a gnawing pain. Gingerly, he reached up with his free arm and touched his scalp, trying to locate the source of his headache. Beneath his matted hair, he found the hard nubs of a dozen or so stitches caked with dried blood.

He closed his eyes, trying to remember an accident.

Nothing. A total blank.


Only darkness.

A man in scrubs hurried in, apparently alerted by Langdon’s racing heart monitor. He had a shaggy beard, bushy mustache, and gentle eyes that radiated a thoughtful calm beneath his overgrown eyebrows.‘What . . . happened?’ Langdon managed. ‘Did I have an accident?’

The bearded man put a finger to his lips and then rushed out, calling for someone down the hall.

Langdon turned his head, but the movement sent a spike of pain radiating through his skull. He took deep breaths and let the pain pass. Then, very gently and methodically, he surveyed his sterile surroundings. The hospital room had a single bed. No flowers. No cards. Langdon saw his clothes on a nearby counter, folded inside a clear plastic bag. They were covered with blood.

My God. It must have been bad.

Now Langdon rotated his head very slowly toward the window beside his bed. It was dark outside. Night.

All Langdon could see in the glass was his own reflection—an ashen stranger, pale and weary, attached to tubes and wires, surrounded by medical equipment. Voices approached in the hall, and Langdon turned his gaze back toward the room. The doctor returned, now accompanied by a woman.

She appeared to be in her early thirties. She wore blue scrubs and had tied her blond hair back in a thick ponytail that swung behind her as she walked.

‘I’m Dr. Sienna Brooks,’ she said, giving Langdon a smile as she entered. ‘I’ll be working with Dr. Marconi tonight.’

Langdon nodded weakly. Tall and lissome, Dr. Brooks moved with the assertive gait of an athlete. Even in shapeless scrubs, she had a willowy elegance about her. Despite the absence of any makeup that Langdon could see, her complexion appeared unusually smooth, the only blemish a tiny beauty mark just above her lips. Her eyes, though a gentle brown, seemed unusually penetrating, as if they had witnessed a profundity of experience rarely encountered by a person her age.

‘Dr. Marconi doesn’t speak much English,’ she said, sitting down beside him, ‘and he asked me to fill out your admittance form.’ She gave him another smile.

‘Thanks,’ Langdon croaked.

‘Okay,’ she began, her tone businesslike. ‘What isyour name?’

It took him a moment. ‘Robert . . . Langdon.’

She shone a penlight in Langdon’s eyes.


This information surfaced even more slowly.

‘Professor. Art history . . . and symbology. Harvard University.’

Dr. Brooks lowered the light, looking startled. The doctor with the bushy eyebrows looked equally surprised.

‘You’re . . . an American?’

Langdon gave her a confused look.

‘It’s just . . .’ She hesitated. ‘You had no identification when you arrived tonight. You were wearing

Harris Tweed and Somerset loafers, so we guessed British.’

‘I’m American,’ Langdon assured her, too exhausted to explain his preference for well-tailored clothing.

‘Any pain?’

‘My head,’ Langdon replied, his throbbing skull only made worse by the bright penlight. Thankfully,

she now pocketed it, taking Langdon’s wrist and checking his pulse.

‘You woke up shouting,’ the woman said. ‘Do you remember why?’

Langdon flashed again on the strange vision of the veiled woman surrounded by writhing bodies. Seek and ye shall find. ‘I was having a nightmare.’


Langdon told her.

Dr. Brooks’s expression remained neutral as she made notes on a clipboard. ‘Any idea what might have sparked such a frightening vision?’

Langdon probed his memory and then shook his head, which pounded in protest.

‘Okay, Mr. Langdon,’ she said, still writing, ‘a couple of routine questions for you. What day of the week is it?’

Langdon thought for a moment. ‘It’s Saturday. I remember earlier today walking across campus . . . going to an afternoon lecture series, and then . . . that’s pretty much the last thing I remember. Did I fall?’

‘We’ll get to that. Do you know where you are?’

Langdon took his best guess. ‘Massachusetts General Hospital?’

Dr. Brooks made another note. ‘And is there someone we should call for you? Wife? Children?’

‘Nobody,’ Langdon replied instinctively. He had always enjoyed the solitude and independence provided him by his chosen life of bachelorhood, although he had to admit, in his current situation, he’d prefer to have a familiar face at his side. ‘There are some colleagues I could call, but I’m fine.’

Dr. Brooks finished writing, and the older doctor approached. Smoothing back his bushy eyebrows, he produced a small voice recorder from his pocket and showed it to Dr. Brooks. She nodded in understanding and turned back to her patient.

‘Mr. Langdon, when you arrived tonight, you were mumbling something over and over.’ She glanced at Dr. Marconi, who held up the digital recorder and pressed a button.

A recording began to play, and Langdon heard his own groggy voice, repeatedly muttering the same phrase. ‘Ve . . . sorry. Ve . . . sorry.’

‘It sounds to me,’ the woman said, ‘like you’re saying, ‘Very sorry. Very sorry.’’

Langdon agreed, and yet he had no recollection of it.

Dr. Brooks fixed him with a disquietingly intense stare. ‘Do you have any idea why you’d be saying this? Are you sorry about something?’

As Langdon probed the dark recesses of his memory, he again saw the veiled woman. She was standing on the banks of a bloodred river surrounded by bodies. The stench of death returned.

Langdon was overcome by a sudden, instinctive sense of danger . . . not just for himself . . . but for everyone. The pinging of his heart monitor accelerated rapidly. His muscles tightened, and he tried to sit up.

Dr. Brooks quickly placed a firm hand on Langdon’s sternum, forcing him back down. She shot a glance at the bearded doctor, who walked over to a nearby counter and began preparing something.

Dr. Brooks hovered over Langdon, whispering now. ‘Mr. Langdon, anxiety is common with brain injuries, but you need to keep your pulse rate down.No movement. No excitement. Just lie still and rest. You’ll be okay. Your memory will come back slowly.’

The doctor returned now with a syringe, which he handed to Dr. Brooks. She injected its contents into Langdon’s IV.

‘Just a mild sedative to calm you down,’ she explained, ‘and also to help with the pain.’ She stood

to go. ‘You’ll be fine, Mr. Langdon. Just sleep. If you need anything, press the button on your bedside.’ She turned out the light and departed with the bearded doctor.

In the darkness, Langdon felt the drugs washing through his system almost instantly, dragging his body back down into that deep well from which he had emerged. He fought the feeling, forcing his eyes open in the darkness of his room. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like cement.

As Langdon shifted, he found himself again facing the window. The lights were out, and in the dark glass, his own reflection had disappeared, replaced by an illuminated skyline in the distance.

Amid a contour of spires and domes, a single regal facade dominated Langdon’s field of view. The building was an imposing stone fortress with a notched parapet and a three-hundred-foot tower that swelled near the top, bulging outward into a massive machicolated battlement.

Langdon sat bolt upright in bed, pain exploding in his head. He fought off the searing throb and fixed his gaze on the tower.

Langdon knew the medieval structure well.

It was unique in the world. Unfortunately, it was also located four thousand miles from Massachusetts.

Outside his window, hidden in the shadows of the Via Torregalli, a powerfully built woman effortlessly unstraddled her BMW motorcycle and advanced with the intensity of a panther stalking its prey. Her gaze was sharp. Her close-cropped hair—styled into spikes—stood out against the upturned collar of her black leather riding suit. She checked her silenced weapon, and stared up at the window where Robert Langdon’s light had just gone out.

Earlier tonight her original mission had gone horribly awry.

The coo of a single dove had changed everything.

Now she had come to make it right.


Copyright © Dan Brown 2013

Publisher: Random House India

Release Date: 14th May 2013

Pre-order it:

Price: 750


‘A Cup Of Tea & Some Secrets Spilled’

Hello & Welcome Back book Lovers.preeti

Sorry haven’t updated the blog in a while.

Our sincere apologies. We hope to please you with this blog.

Well today we get you candid with the dynamic, beautiful and spirited author filled with the zest of Life.

Meet Preeti Shenoy…a Mother, a Wife, a Painter, a Nature lover, an avid Blogger and a Writer.

We chatted with her over a Cup of Tea and some cake of course hoping she could spill some of her secrets of success.

Our conclusion is that Preeti is a complete and fulfilled person who loves life’s simple moments.Now how adorable is that!!

Preeti has been writing short stories since a very early age. She has been avid blogger since the last 6 years and after had blog has become immensely popular she decided to culminate her writings into a book and she published her first book ‘ 34 Bubble gums and Candies’. Till date she has authored 4 books and remains on India top 10 Bestselling authors (Nielsen Report )

Her new book ‘The Secret Wish List’ is available at a Crossword store near you.

Excerpt of her interview…

1. Your Secret Wish list in life..

I have been fortunate enough to achieve all (yes every single thing) that was on my wish list. Now my wish list has just one thing–My children should do well and grow up to be happy , well balanced individuals.

2. Tell us more about the character Diksha in your new book

Diksha is a contemporary Indian woman, who feels trapped in her existence as a wife and a mother. Though she does enjoy her role, she lacks the courage to speak up or even do what she wants to do. She has made all the ‘right’ decisions, pushed by her parents, yet she is unhappy. Many women readers tell me that they felt they were Diksha. I felt happy to hear thatl.

3. Are your protagonists inspired from your real life experiences..

Yes–all my characters are indeed drawn from real life people. My readers write in and tell me that it feels like I have got inside their head and written their story–or the story of someone they know. That is because all my stories are indeed based on true incidents.

4. You’re a mom, writer, Painter, Blogger, Traveler, Sports enthusiast. How you do manage the time for everything.

I focus on what is important to me and make time for things that are important to me. I do not watch television at all. I do not have to commute to my work place. I don’t talk on the phone much. That by itself frees up a lot of time! It isn’t that hard really. When people tell me they don’t find time to do things that they want to, I always find it surprising. if it is important to you, you will somehow make the time! (Getting up an hour early will help too!)

5. Books like Fifty Shades of grey have created a new genre of of readers. As an author would ever write on this genre of books?

I would never say ‘never’ . I truly cannot predict how I will evolve and grow as an author. If I find a story compelling I would write it.
6. What inspires you in writing such beautiful and articulate stories?

The realization that life is so fragile and time is running out for all of us. It just has to be lived to the fullest. Celebrate life! Follow your heart.! This is the core message in all my books

7. Your favourite contemporary writers

Wilbur Smith, Audrey Niffeneger, Neil Gaiman. My all time favourite however remains Roald Dahl.

8. The first book you ever read?

Must have been Amar chitra katha or a phantom comic! I truly do not remember. I used to be very fond of the classics like ‘Little women’ ,’Scarlet pimpernel’, ‘Treasure Island’, ‘Water babies’, ‘Prince and the pauper’. I used to read everything I could lay my hands on!

9. With so many books in the Indian market to read on similar genres how does an author standout with his book?

The best thing for a book is word of mouth. I think ultimately, if a book is good, the word of mouth will help it stand out.

10. Do you think Indian authors are aggressive in promoting their books?

It is a very relative term. Aggressive compared to whom or what? Personally I believe that an author and a publisher should do all that they can to let people know about the book. After that it is only word of mouth which will help sustain sales.

11. Any advice to young budding authors?

Read, read read as much as you can. Write a lot.

12. The most weird/funny/memorable comment you have got from your fans in the past?

I get hundreds of mails which tell me that my books have changed their life. I feel honored and humbled to know that.
I am copy pasting a comment from a reader, a young man, which i got recently on my FB page which made me feel so moved.
Hi mam,The secret wish list is the first book i have read of yours,and it carried me with loads of feelings and emotions. Character diksha simply made my feelings for my mother,I am just about to ask her wishlist and see that they come true.

The Secret Wishlist
Price: Rs 175
Publisher: Westland Books

Signing Off For Now..

Until Next Time Geeks

Happy Reading!

Crossword Bookstores

To give your feedback and complaints please write to

‘Jugaad’ The Indian Way of Life

Jugaad is a word most commonly heard in India. It implies quick fix solution to any problem. It is a common phenomenon observe on the streets of India in small ways like fixing things with safety pins, turning cycles into a mobile shop of necessities, selling clothes by displaying it on the trees and many more..

A new book on the block ‘ Jugaad Innovation’ talks about how jugaad can help you find great solution to problems and can turn any adversity into an opportunity.

The 3 authors, Navi Radjou, Jaideep Prabhu, Simone Ahuja, talk about this phenomena that is helping MNC’s to develop breakthrough paths to grow in this competitive market.

A little more on about this dynamic trio:

Navi Radjou is an innovation and leadership strategist based in Silicon Valley. He is also a World Economic Forum faculty member. He advises C-level executives worldwide on breakthrough growth strategies. Navi is also writing a book on new models of leadership.

Jaideep Prabhu is the Jawaharlal Nehru Professor of Indian Business and Enterprise at Judge Business School, University of Cambridge. He has taught executives from ABN Amro, Bertelsmann, BP, BT, IBM, ING Bank, Nokia, Philips, Roche, Shell, Vodafone, and Xerox.

Simone Ahuja is the founder and principal of Blood Orange, a marketing and strategy consultancy with expertise in innovation and emerging markets. She regularly presents and consults to Fortune 500 companies across sectors, and contributes to a Harvard Business Review blog.

We got chatty with the trio and they had a lot to say to us on this topic which is widely growing and sweeping through companies. Here’s a look at what they had to say.


Today, global companies are talking about Jugaad as an effective approach to innovation. Meanwhile, jugaad is practiced in all Indian homes on a daily Basis, without giving it a second thought. What are some of the lessons that multinationals can learn from simple Indian households?

This is a great question.  It is exactly because jugaad and the jugaad mindset is so inherent in Indians that Indians are well poised to apply the principles of jugaad to business practices.  While jugaad can refer to quick fixes and low cost solutions, such as using a 2L Pepsi bottle to store pulses, use as a planter, a showerhead or even as chappals, it’s also a very important mindset.  The frugality and the flexible rather than linear approach to problem solving exhibited in many Indian households is a highly effective one that companies can and must learn to augment structured innovation processes and to grow, particularly in times of economic volatility.  Moreover, jugaad innovation is a great complement to more structured innovation processes, which leads to the creation of scale.

One of your favorite stories or ideas that you came across while writing this book?

There are so many outstanding and inspiring stories of jugaad innovation, particularly grassroots examples.  One of those SELCO, founded by Harish Hande, a company that destroyed the myth, that the poor cannot afford and maintain clean technology.  SELCO distributes solar energy to more than 200,000 rural households across India.  For us he epitomizes the frugal, flexible and inclusive mindset of a jugaad innovator.  First, he bootstrapped his venture with very limited resources and iterated on his model until he found one that works for him – ultimately, a highly innovative system of grassroots entrepreneurs who buy solar light and rent and distribute them on a daily basis.  He added tremendous value not only for the communities he served, but also for the micro-entrepreneurs with whom he partnered which in turn sustained his own business model.

Another important finding that emerged while researching for and writing this book is that jugaad is not unique to India.  In fact, similar approaches to innovation exist in many emerging markets including Brazil where it’s called jeitinho and China, where it’s called zizhu xuangxin – and even in the US, particularly among Generation Y and entrepreneurs, where there’s a growing DIY or do-it-yourself movement building that also calls for a frugal, flexbile and inclusive approach to problem solving.

Name 2 good companies practicing jugaad and how?

The Tata group is an example of an Indian company that practices jugaad. The Tata Nano is an outstanding example of the application of the principles of flexibility, frugality and inclusivity that are the hallmark of the jugaad mindset. So too with the Tata Swach. GE Healthcare is an example of a Western multinational that practices jugaad in India and elsewhere. The company used jugaad principles to develop a range of low cost ECG machines in India that it has also sold in other emerging markets as well as the West.

Before writing this book did you read any books on jugaad?

While we hadn’t read other books on jugaad, we conducted interviews with hundreds of grassroots entrepreneurs, corporate leaders and others in India to really understand the essence of jugaad.  Interestingly, we found it means different things to different people depending on geographic region and socio-economic status, etc.  We took all of these insights and distilled them into a definition of jugaad that underlines the best of it – a frugal, flexible and inclusive approach to problem solving and innovation.  In a sense, it is an amelioration like “hacking”, which at one time had a negative connotation and now has found its way into the business lexicon with many corporations conducting hackathons to find solutions to problems.  In this same way, we have extracted the best of jugaad since so many principles of jugaad innovation can benefit society at large.

Any tips on how can a startup company initiate and practice jugaad right from day one?

Startup companies (and the entrepreneurs that lead them) are the very epitome of jugaad. Our book and its principles are inspired by such companies and individuals. So for us to be telling startups how to apply jugaad would be a bit like us teaching fish how to swim! That said: two main principles of jugaad that are useful to startups are: 1) always look to get more with less (i.e., be frugal) and 2) always look to challenge conventional wisdom and look for non-linear solutions to problems (i.e., be flexible).

What made the 3 of you collaborate on such a project?

All three of us have unique perspectives that complemented our background and academic research for this book.  It began with ethnographic research for a film series that Simone’s company, Blood Orange, was creating for a corporate client who wanted to better understand innovation in emerging markets and how it may be relevant in the West.  For the series, Simone brought in Navi, then an analyst at Forrester whose focus was innovation and emerging markets, as an innovation consultant for the series.  Ultimately, Navi left Forrester to work with Jaideep, a marketing professor at the University of Cambridge’s Judge Business School, who was heading the Centre for India & Global Business there.  Navi later brought Simone in as a consultant for the Centre.  Much of our respective work was done separately, but with common themes particularly around innovation and emerging markets so it made sense for us to bring our interests and information together in a book like Jugaad Innovation.

 Would the 3 of you be collaborating in the future also?

Absolutely. The three of us continue to write articles on the subject of jugaad innovation and frugal innovation for the Harvard Business Review blog and publications like Fast Company, BusinessWeek as well as many newspapers in India and the US.  We also pursue individual study of jugaad based on our professional backgrounds, and share these learnings with each other.  We won’t say yet whether a Jugaad Innovation sequel is in the works, but there certainly is a lot more ground to cover around this subject!

Publisher: Random House India

Price: Rs 499


Signing Off For Now..


Until Next Time Geeks..


Happy Reading!


Crossword Bookstores

To Read Or Not To Read..

Ladies Its Time To Move on!!  

All Those who love reading Mills & Boons and day dream of the ultimate edgy romance.. We have got something to entice you further..

Well We are talking about the Fifty Shades Hysteria that’s capturing the Indian Markets. Already an International Bestseller  Worldwide this book will possess you with it stimulating romance.

It been on Our No 1 Bestseller for 10 weeks now and continues to dominate our charts.

Its a book Loved by all, Fantasized by all and Tabooed by all..

The Author E.L James wrote it initially as a E Book as a Fan Faction Novel For All Twilight Fans as the Central Characters are based on Edward & Bella and it was later penned into a book.

Fans Worldwide claim that this books can spice up marriages and can make dull & boring relationships intriguing.

The Book Has been christened as an ‘Adult Fiction’,  But the enigmatic housewife E LJames says “Its just a love story and if critics want to focus on other things its their issue”.(quote from interview by express and

Well the books do have scintillating effect on you!!

If You still haven’t Got your copy its time you buy it now!!

A Little About The Trilogy

 Christian Grey..Orphaned at a young age..Self Made Business Empire..Dark..Broody..Too Many Secrets in the closet..A Charming handsome Millionaire..Dominant..Never Fallen in Love

 Anatasia Steele…Clumpsy..Loves Reading..Average Girl Next Door..Loving Parents..A Young Student..Never Fallen in Love..

And an accidental meeting Sparks an Affair that knows no bounds…Inseparable & Insatiable love story..

This Story will take you through the up and downs in their twisted, damaged and deranged love story..

Publisher: Random House India

Price:Rs 325/ Box Set Rs 999 

Suited for ages 18 and up.

A Total Chick Flick!!

We will definitely try and post an interview with El James soon.. And anybody who wants to send us a review of the Book do write to us at

Signing off For now..

Until Next Time Geeks

Happy Reading!!

Crossword Bookstores.