She’s known as the Ice Princess. He’s got a reputation for melting hearts…except hers. Let the rivalry begin.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Aurora Palit’s Honey and Heat, which releases on September 16th 2025.
Cynthia Kumar always wins. She’s successful, competitive, and knows exactly what she wants: to be the heir to her father’s multimillion dollar business.
Except, her father just chose his successor and it’s not her…it’s her one-night stand.
Rohit Patel can’t believe his luck. He’s just landed the opportunity of a lifetime, his future is once again on track, and the woman he spent one steamy night with could be the love of his life.
Except, she’s his new boss’s daughter and now she hates him.
When Kumar Constructions falls under scrutiny, both Cynthia and Rohit are determined to see its tarnished reputation restored to its original glory. As they each try to swoop in and save the day, their game of one-upmanship fails spectacularly, leaving them no choice but to set their differences aside and work together. But as their partnership to save the company—and their feelings for one another—blossoms, they’ll have to decide what’s more important…their careers or love?
I can’t hold my tequila worth a damn,” someone beside Cynthia said, “but can I join you?”
The faint beginnings of a tequila-induced fog in Cynthia’s brain parted like the Red Sea for that voice. The smooth, rich timbre was satin against her auditory nerves, but when his words sank in, she rolled her eyes and turned to face bachelor number five. Or was it six?
Lively dark brown eyes, brimming with amusement and humor, met her gaze. Cynthia’s eyes widened as she took in his warm, golden skin and playful half smile on really nice lips that no man deserved in a fair world.
Huh. Maybe the beer goggles were finally kicking in. Cynthia gave her head a shake. “Okay, let’s hear it.” “Hear what?”
She gestured at herself with an impatient wave of her hand. “Your lame pickup line about how good I look. Or how nice I smell. Or if you can ‘see my keys because I’m turning you on.’” With a sarcastic laugh, Cynthia spun back to the bar and rolled the empty shot glass between her hands. “Go ahead, tell me I’m beautiful and then toddle off.”
He was silent at first, prompting a thin, cold sensation that felt suspiciously like disappointment snaking down her spine. When she risked another glance at him, he was watching her with a thoughtful glint in his narrowed gaze.
“What?” Cynthia asked, tugging at the left strap of her dress self-consciously.
“Well, obviously I need a second. I don’t want to waste the opportunity.” There was zero sarcasm or defensiveness to his tone, and Cynthia swiveled on her barstool to face him properly.
“Give me the best you can do,” she said. To her ears, the words played back harsher than she had intended, a depressing indication that when it came to flirting, she was woefully out of practice. Teasing and coy digs were not the mark of an aspiring CEO who relied on working overtime and detailed project charters to get what she wanted. But, to her relief, he responded to her challenge with a low chuckle that rasped like the wrong side of crushed velvet against inquisitive fingertips, and Cynthia found herself leaning forward.
“Okay, fine,” he said, clearing his throat. “‘I’m also just a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to notice him.’” With a lop-sided smile, he added, “I had to wordsmith it a bit.”
The words were so familiar that the last of the buzzy mist clouding her mind cleared away. “Wait . . . Where have I heard that before . . . ?”
He accepted a beer from the bartender and tipped its open mouth toward Cynthia. “Would you prefer ‘To me, you are perfect’?”
Cynthia’s head tilted to the side as the words rolled through her, just unfamiliar enough to be out of reach. Or perhaps it was the speaker’s darkly fringed gaze upon her that was throwing her off, the sparkle in his deep brown eyes that was shifting the ground underneath her. He met her stare head-on with humor and blatant curiosity, which sent a new feeling through her, hot on the heels of her confusion.
Exhilaration.
“You did not come up with those yourself,” Cynthia said, pleasantly surprised to hear the note of playfulness lacing her words.
He made her wait as he took a long pull from his beer bottle, leaving her nothing to do but trace the arch in his throat with her eyes. Long, graceful muscles worked with every swallow and Cynthia’s mouth dried, suddenly parched.
Ordering another drink, however, was the last thing on her mind.
When he met her eyes again, his smile was blinding. “It feels too soon for ‘I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly,’” he said.
Cynthia let out a delighted gasp. “You stole those from movies!” Their shared laughter faded as his eyelashes lowered, his eyes sweeping down her red dress before lingering where the hem had ridden up several inches above her knees. Heat and appreciation flared in his eyes when he raked them back up to her face. His perusal was so direct and so unapologetic that Cynthia’s cheeks flushed, but she had zero desire to look away.
“It was worth a shot,” he said, his smooth voice dropping to a husky pitch.
“It was a good try . . .” she murmured, submitting him to the same once-over he’d given her. He was wearing a charcoal-gray suit that hugged wonderfully broad shoulders and even broader thighs, a welcome change from baggy Tommy Bahama and other atrocities she’d borne witness to that night. The white shirt he wore beneath his suit was a little rumpled where it was loosened at his throat, like he’d gratefully tugged off a tie after a strenuous day.
The thought of him loosening his collar, the tension in his body as he worked to pull the confining material away, stirred a tight, delicious heat in the pit of Cynthia’s stomach. He had sexy collarbones.
“I might be willing to let you try again,” she finished.
He grinned and tipped his drink to his mouth again. Cynthia’s eyelids lowered to half-mast as she tracked the path from his pursed lips to the sharp line of dark stubble along his jaw. His beard was short and shaped with angular precision, and the skin on the pads of her fingers tingled. Whether it was the neatly trimmed roughness of his facial hair or the alluring texture of his voice, she suddenly itched to touch something.
Him. The realization hit her like an electrostatic shock and with it came just the right hit of endorphins to send a tingle into her core and pull her inner thighs closer together. I want to touch him.
“‘As you wish,’” he said. “I’m Rohit, by the way.”
The reference to one of her favorite childhood movies pulled Cynthia off her seat so she stood between his spread legs, loving how he immediately leaned a fraction closer. He smelled good, too. “Cynthia.”
Rohit cocked his head at her empty shot glass. “So, can I buy you a drink, Cynthia?”
She let her gaze flit to his slightly parted lips before settling on his eyes again. His pupils dilated, laser focused on her with a hunger that charged Cynthia with the confidence to pull the near-empty bottle from his hands and place it on the bar with a resolute clink. The disappointments from earlier that evening tucked themselves into the deep recesses of her brain as a slow, catlike smile curved her lips. For the first time that night, she felt like herself. Or perhaps, a heightened version of herself: bold to the point of dramatic, assertive and unafraid.
She was surrendering to her primal instincts, and it felt damn good. Cynthia leaned forward, dropping her voice, careful to not let any part of her body touch his. There’d be time for that later, and the anticipation sent another wicked jolt through her.
“It’s my turn,” she said. “How about I show you my keys and we get out of here?”
Excerpted from HONEY AND HEAT by Aurora Palit, published by Berkley, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright © 2025
