Rani’s summer checklist didn’t include falling in love in this sparkling romance for fans of The Summer of Broken Rules and Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute.
Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Rani Deshpande Takes The Wheel by Arushi Avachat, which releases on May 19th 2026.
Nineteen-year-old Rani Deshpande is on a mission to reinvent herself the summer before transferring to her new university. After a challenging freshman year, Rani can’t help but feel like she’s playing catch up. To that end, she’s crafted a packed summer to get back on track: a dream internship, adventures with her hometown best friend, and regular driving lessons so that she can finally lose her passenger princess reputation – even if it means learning from her aggravating family friend (and childhood crush), Kush Khanna.
Kush and Rani grew up together, but they couldn’t be less alike. Within their close-knit Desi community – a Jane Austen style cast of ridiculous, meddlesome families – Kush is the beloved model son; Rani is more the black sheep. Kush is pre-med; Rani plans to teach elementary school. Kush is cool and collected, bordering on reticent; Rani couldn’t keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it. So when their mothers first force the pair to drive together, the arrangement feels like a recipe for disaster. As the lessons progress, however, Rani discovers there’s more to the boy she’s known her whole life than meets the eye.
In Arushi Avachat’s Rani Deshpande Takes the Wheel, Rani must learn to course-correct, no matter how bumpy or windy the road – and even if it includes a detour right into love.
From Rani Deshpande Takes the Wheel by Arushi Avachat. Copyright © 2026 by the author, and reprinted with permission of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.
Chapter One
My grandfather’s birthday party is always a night to remember.
For the fifth year and counting, we’ve rented the event space at Taj Mahal Express, the sole Indian restaurant in our corner of Seattle suburbia. It’s not the fanciest venue, but we’ve added the Deshpande touch: gold diyas glittering from windows, marigold garlands draped through doorways, and floral centerpieces picked fresh from Baba’s garden. As the eldest grandchild, I’m tonight’s designated party planner, responsible for checking off any last tasks before guests arrive.
Micromanaging Ajoba, of course, is at the top of my list, and admittedly, one of my favorite parts of being home for the summer. I find my grandfather at the open bar, already two mocktails deep.
“Look alive, Ajoba,” I say. He’s dapper in a silver sherwani, and his white hair is cleanly parted at the center, but by his grim expression, you’d never know we were preparing for his own celebration. “We need people to think you want to be here.”
“How will I ever pull off such a lie, my maharani?”
I smile at the nickname. My name is Rani, Marathi for queen, but since I was a girl, Ajoba has affectionately called me his maharani, or his great queen. It’s safe to say my grandfather is who I turn to whenever I need a confidence boost.
“I’m hoping it won’t be a lie.” My voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “Shilpa Aunty has generously offered to perform a solo dance during tonight’s program.” I pause for effect. “And I have agreed to the plan.”
My grandfather meets my gaze for the first time, eyes twinkling with stunned amusement. “Your mother knows?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.” Aai will kill me once she learns, but I want to bring Ajoba some enjoyment where I can tonight.
It’s tradition at these gatherings for a few songs and dances to be performed for the guest of honor. Performers are usually children, but Shilpa Aunty is by far the most attention seeking of the ladies in our family friend circle. She’s been taking Bollywood dance lessons in preparation for her son’s upcoming wedding, and no opportunity to be in the spotlight can possibly be passed up. My grandfather derives most of his entertainment at our functions from Shilpa Aunty’s nonsense.
Ajoba sighs in contentment. “I don’t know how I’ve done without you this last year,” he says, and I laugh, something squeezing in my chest. I don’t know how I’ve done without him, either.
My phone lights up now with a video call from my best friend. “I’m going to take this,” I say, because I’ve been waiting to talk to Simran all day. “You’ll be okay on your own for a bit?” My parents have been absorbed with the caterers, but they’re bound to start pestering Ajoba at any minute.
“Go,” he says. “One day I will finally gather the courage to tell your mother I vastly prefer to celebrate my birthday at the Cheesecake Factory,” he murmurs as I leave.
Aai would have an aneurysm if he ever suggested so, but I don’t have the heart to tell him.
Simran’s calling me back from the airport. She stayed an extra week at Dartmouth after finishing up her finals, so she can’t make tonight’s festivities.
“My flight got pushed two hours,” she says in explanation for missing my morning call. “Never fly Spirit.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I was never planning to.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, I’m just devastated to miss the party,” she says, lips pulling into an exaggerated pout through the screen. She’s wearing the chunky pink headphones I got her for Christmas a couple years back and a gray matching set, the picture of travel comfort.
“I’m sure,” I say, and Simran giggles. She hates these events almost as much as Ajoba. Simran was raised by Cool Brown Parents, second-generation Indian moms who own an art gallery in downtown Seattle. While I spent my childhood being dragged from one family friend’s house to another, Simran attended poetry readings, restaurant openings, the goddamn ballet.
“Kush can keep you company in my absence, no?”
“Was that a threat, Sim?”
She giggles again. Kush Khanna, Noori Aunty’s son, is pretty much the bane of my existence. Polite, handsome, and insufferably overachieving, Kush is beloved by every elder in our community. He’s just a year older, so I’ve been compared to him my entire life, always falling short.
“Bad joke, I take it back, running on very little sleep here.”
“How was the roomie trip?” Simran’s spent the last few days in the mountains near campus with her school friends.
“Magical. You’ve got to come visit me next year. I won’t accept any excuses.”
“It’s in the calendar,” I say, but an odd feeling lurches in my chest, just like every other time Simran has told me about her college escapades. Simran Sinha is my favorite person in the world next to Ajoba, but we had very different freshman year experiences. As thrilled as I am for her, it’s hard not to feel some envy too. I clear my throat, pushing the sensation away. “When do you get home?”
“By morning, granted my flight isn’t delayed again.” She pauses here, dimples deepening. “And then we have the whole summer together. I’ve missed you immensely, Rani.”
“I’ve missed you. This summer is going to be fabulous.” I sound like a High School Musical character, but after the year I’ve had, I can’t overstate how bad I need this win. “Especially, since I have some very exciting news,” I add, finally getting to the purpose of my original call. I pause to let her anticipation swell. “I got my learner’s permit!” Simran’s mouth drops, and I continue. “It’s real, it’s happening, I will be getting my driver’s license very soon!”
“You’re joking,” she accuses.
“Cross my heart.”
It’s been a running joke between the two of us forever that I might die not knowing how to drive. But I stopped by the DOL (Department of Licensing) the day I got back from college. I want this summer to be a true fresh start, a clean slate to set me up for a strong sophomore year, and this is the first step in that direction. Simran has been my chauffeur for years now, so I know this development is a dream come true for her.
“Rani Deshpande, passenger princess no more?” Simran says, all wonderment.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say. She laughs, and we talk through the rest of our summer plans until Aai calls me over to finish party prep.
