Spotlight & Giveaway: A Hard Yes by Sinclair Jayne Sawhney

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Sinclair Jayne Sawhney to HJ!

Hi Sinclair Jayne Sawhney and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, A Hard Yes!

To start off, can you please tell us a little bit about this book?:

A Hard Yes is book one in a series titled Misguided Masala Matchmaker. The series covers four adult children in the Charlotte based Kapoor family and kicks off with the eldest daughter, Asha Kapoor, being ditched days before her high profile wedding, and the four books follow each of the characters as they deal with the family drama, community shaming, their parents’ efforts to hire a high profile matchmaker to save face, as well as the matchmaking efforts of the youngest sister, Rani, who thinks that if she can find a perfect match for her favorite cousin and two sisters, she can use the experience as her PhD dissertation topic. A Hard Yes features the ‘golden son’ Rohan, about to finish his cardio-thoracic surgery residency, finally feeling like he will have a taste of freedom, only to learn that his ambitious, controlling parents already have his life planned out—where he’ll practice—with his father, where he’ll live—in a luxurious apartment on the first floor of their massive lake front home, and who he’ll marry.

Rohan wants to make his own choices, but he’s never disappointed his parents. Ever. And then when he’s running an errand with Rani, he takes a right when he should go left and meets a talented, open-hearted artist and teacher, Solei Beals. She’s beautiful, spirited, intelligent and has freedom he’s only dreamed about. He’s fascinated, and pursues her, telling himself that he can keep it casual throughout the spring, before he needs to make some hard decisions. But before they’ve finished their first date, Rohan is deeply captivated and feels so much like he’s untethering from the life his parents have so assiduously planned out, that he feels like he’s drowning. If he stays with the woman he loves, he’ll hurt his family, but if he allows his parents to pick his partner, he’ll hurt Solei, break his own heart and always wonder what could have been.
 

Please share your favorite lines or quote(s) from this book:

This is one of my favorite scenes early on in the book because it defines Rohan’s state of mind and his close relationship with his cousin, Rani.

“Rohan, you should slip your leash every now and then,” Rani said.
He raked a hand through his hair. “I know,” he said bleakly. “But it’s too late.” He was like one of those animals in a Skinner Box.
“It’s only too late when you’re dead.”
“Looks like that’s the only time I’ll finally be free,” he muttered. Funny how Rani had fallen in love studying the head while he’d studied the heart. That right there was the definition of irony. Rani was all heart, whereas he didn’t have one.
“I can help, Ro. I can,” she leaned forward nearly tumbling from her chair into the gas fire. “I can find you a perfect match. I can save you and save myself.”

This next quote exchange comes from when the barriers around Solei’s heart and Rohan’s heart begin to tumble after they’ve participated in a local Holi festival.

“I have one color left,” Solei admitted.
“What color,” Rohan gently eased her hair out of her eyes.
“Green,” she tried to keep her voice steady. He was so tender. She’d never had tender.
“Bathe us in it,” he whispered meeting her green gaze. “Green means new beginnings.”
Solei aimed the last green filled pastry bag towards the sky and squeezed as hard as she could. “To new beginnings.” She said as the color settled over them.
“To us,” he whispered, his lips brushed against hers.

What inspired this book?

What inspired A Hard Yes is a blend of reality and fiction. Over twenty-seven years ago I met my husband, Deepak Sawhney, at an art festival. He’d recently started his medical practice and was longing for some fun and freedom. For me it was love at first sight. We started dating, and for a long time he didn’t tell his parents he was dating anyone even as they (on the other side of the country) had started nudging him about “suitable brides.” There are several moments in A Hard Yes that are based on my or our experiences, and other people and events in the rest of the series that I have shared, witnessed or participated in over the twenty-five years of my marriage and of raising bi-racial children. As always, I have taken a few kernels of truth and spun them into fiction and characters that are my own.

How did you ‘get to know’ your main characters? Did they ever surprise you?

I based Rohan a little bit on my husband, which would make him laugh as I created Rohan to ooze confidence and swagger, and he’s utterly into fashion. My husband is not. My husband’s family immigrated from Delhi in the early 70s to the Charlotte area, and the Indian community didn’t have much of a presence then. My husband’s family worked hard in the textile mills often working two shifts each to make ends meet. And during school breaks, my husband and his older brother, Vinay, also worked shifts in the mill. Today the textile mills are gone and the second and third generations of Desi families are thriving economically and socially. Many are business and political leaders in their communities. I wanted to reflect this change over the past fifty years with my Kapoor family. They are smart, educated, wealthy and connected to their roots but also to their communities. I wanted to show how the adult children have learned how to straddle both worlds, much like I’ve watched my niece and nephew and my sister-in-law’s many nieces and nephews straddle Indian and American cultural traditions and thrive in both worlds.

Misguided Masala Matchmaker was for me, an ode to my husband’s family—now my family, and many of the extended family and friends I have met and loved during my marriage. It’s not meant to be a cultural statement as much as it is a love story for what I have learned about the Indian Culture—the values, the love of family, the traditions, of course the food and the embrace of new.

I have always admired how close my husband is to his brother and how close my sister-in-law is to her sisters and brother. I created the Kapoors—two married twin brothers, one, Sanjeev with an adult son, Rohan and the other, Raj with three daughters Asha, Shanti and Rani. They are Americanized, but retain many cultural traditions. For me, the emphasis is on the family and my characters’ place in it. To counterbalance that, my heroine in A Hard Yes, Solei, is an only child who had a very ungrounded, nomadic life. She craves stability and roots and is fiercely independent, unable to let go or rely on anyone else, whereas Rohan is used to supporting his family, and them supporting him. He is wowed by her creativity and free spirit. She is so drawn to his warmth and caring.

What was your favorite scene to write?

My favorite scene to write was the scene during Holi. If you haven’t experienced Holi, it’s a visual feast and a blast. Holi symbolizes the triumph of good over evil and correlates with the end of winter. Holi celebrates spring, love and renewal. Participants wear white and run through powdered pigment that’s thrown or sprayed in water. It’s fun and beautiful and often festivals include food trucks, music and other activities. The way I described the scene was a lot of fun to write and visualize. It’s also the first time Rohan and Solei had a problem—Rohan ran into a family friend and didn’t introduce her, not wanting the gossip to get back to his parents.

“Trust me,” Rohan said, swinging her onto his back.
Trust me. Two simple words that always set off alarms for Solei as trust had always been so easily broken. Trust was earned over time and actions, but with her arms looped around Rohan’s shoulders her front pressed against his back, no alarms sounded as Rohan leaped like an action figure into the grassy quad and began to run, firing his soaker blaster.

What was the most difficult scene to write?

There wasn’t a scene that was specifically harder than others. I was initially daunted by the project, but I fell in love with the characters and the story quickly. Managing scenes with a lot of the characters was challenging. The most emotional scene for me to write was when Rohan finally confessed to his parents that he was in love with Solei, and didn’t want to meet the women they’d chosen for him. He also had to tell his father that he didn’t want to take the job with his father’s practice.

“…You are so trusting, Rohan. You have no experience. These feelings will pass.”
“They won’t. I love her. I want you to meet her.”
His mom slowly sank down on the couch. “Meet her,” she whispered, paling and looking at his father for the first time in the entire conversation. “Do you hear him, your son? He wants us to meet this unknown girl. This artist.”
“Then let’s meet her,” his father said philosophically. “Bring her today. Or next weekend to your party. We will meet her.” He stood up. “I’m going to take a shower and then have breakfast.” He turned away.
Rohan followed. “Papa,” he could barely speak through his nerves. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”
His father stopped. Didn’t turn around.

Would you say this book showcases your writing style or is it a departure for you?

This book was initially intimidating for me to write because it was much more personal than anything else I had written. And also I was writing about a culture that while familiar through marriage, was still not my own. I feel deeply in love with my Kapoors and wanted to do them justice. I also wanted my family and friends in Charlotte to feel seen but not spied upon. I wanted to show a variety of experiences—traditional match making gone bad, an inner racial romance, a bi-racial romance, and a romance between a more traditional character and an unconventional and initially unacceptable character.

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

I hope people enjoy reading the series, learn a little about the Indian American culture, but also see how similar we are as Americans and how our diversity and different experiences make us stronger and Americans.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

I am currently writing book four in the Misguided Masala Matchmaker series—Stealing Mr. Right, which is Rani’s love story, something she thought she would never have. Release dates are:
A Hard Yes May 3, 2022
Swipe Right for Marriage September 20, 2022
An Unsuitable Boy October 12, 2022
Stealing Mr. Right Jan 24, 2022

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: An ebook copy of A Hard Yes & 3 Tule ebooks

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Excerpt from A Hard Yes:

“Have you eaten?” His mother greeted him in the elegant gold and white massive two-story entryway and pulled him into a tight hug.
It was a little over a two-hour drive from Durham. Hardly required sustenance. Plus, he’d been eating lightly for the past two weeks anticipating the food fest his cousin’s wedding promised.
“I’m fine,” he said. He always said he was fine, but he’d never been able to avoid a meal when he arrived home.
“You need to eat.”
“Later,” he said. “How’s Asha?”
“Asha as always keeps her own counsel,” his mom sighed. “It was not a love match, but still Guneet was a solid choice.” His mom’s tone was already in Monday morning quarterback mode. “He came from a good family in Atlanta. He was willing to relocate and start his career as an anesthesiologist in Charlotte. Your father had paved the way for him at his hospital to join the anesthesia group.” His mom airily waved her hand in a “what can you do” manner, and Rohan’s stomach churned, acid rising. “Now, who knows? Ungrateful, stupid man. He didn’t even attend an elite medical school. Poor Asha practically scraping the barrel. What prospects will she have now? She’s thirty-six.”
His mother had been singing Guneet’s praises along with her sister-in-law only a couple of months ago when the match was finally agreed upon. But now, the man who’d been about to become family in a few days was stupid and ungrateful and about to have a job offer rescinded. And her eldest niece had been consigned to the dumpster of unmarriageable with one unforeseen act over which she’d had no control.
Rohan could barely swallow the acid that burned at the back of his throat. This always happened when he came home, but he’d forgotten to take a Nexium in anticipation for today, and he couldn’t ask him mom for a Tums or anything because the brain-picking one hundred and one questions would begin.
“I thought you liked Guneet.” He couldn’t help poking his mom a little.
She waved Guneet away, her gold bangles making a musical sound.
“Asha is thirty-six; what could she do?”
The casual dismissal had him balling his fists.
“A hell of a lot better than a man who dumped her days before her wedding,” Rohan said, barely swallowing his next thought before he said it. Asha deserved a devoted groom and an aunt who would comfort her, not roll her eyes at her pain, disappointment and humiliation or casually dismiss all that Asha brought to marriage—her sweetness and light, Ivy League education, accomplishments, kindness, family dedication, reputation as a top OB in high-risk pregnancies with a wave of her hand while reducing her to one fact. Asha was too far over the line of thirty.
Had Asha felt like she’d settled, or had she harbored feelings for Guneet? He didn’t know shit about her dating life.
Your family doesn’t know about yours.
Not that what he did what would be considered dating, exactly. Swiping right when he was in the mood for a casual hookup would leave his family—jaws hanging to the floor—aghast. But while he’d had far too many opportunities to count, he hadn’t had a lot of choices because he had a hard rule. Hard no on dating classmates or fellow residents. You couldn’t avoid someone after things inevitably went south when you had to round with them each morning, look at them over a patient in the OR during the day or night or sit beside them during the case autopsies every Monday.
“That seems harsh, Mom,” Rohan said, again bottling up the rest of his words. He’d never publicly argued with his parents or overtly pushed back on anything. “Asha is kindness personified. She’s beautiful, intelligent…”
“Of course, of course, beta,” his mom called him “son” far more than she’d ever used his name, and somehow it always made him feel shoved back into his childhood. “Of course.” His mom patted his cheek. “But Asha should have snagged her husband after medical school or residency. Definitely before her fellowship. Too dreamy, that one.”
He didn’t think of Asha as dreamy, but when was the last time they’d had a heart-to-heart? She was more than four years older than him. She’d always been in charge, guiding, inspiring, helping them all.
“I didn’t,” he said, pissed at the double standard.
Wrong thing to say. The speculative appraisal his mother gave him chilled his bones.
“I know,” she said softly.
“I’m going to check on Asha,” he said quickly, but his mother took his hand.
“You are such a good son,” she said. “Your time will come.”
Exactly what he was afraid of. Damn, he should have jumped back in his car and gunned it out of Charlotte. Well, maybe he should have texted Asha to see if she wanted to bust out with him. Rani would be game. Five days off. Road trip. The idea beckoned, tempting. He hadn’t had more than an occasional weekend off in nearly six years.
“You should do something for Anju Auntie,” his mother spoke in a soft voice as she walked him to the kitchen. As expected, several Le Creuset pots—blue, yellow and red—bubbled on the stove, emitting enticing flavors, and despite his protestations that he wasn’t hungry, Rohan’s stomach growled.
“Like what?” Relief coursed through him now that his mother was not currently eyeing him like marriage market meat. “Mummyji,” he greeted his grandmother who smiled at him. He dutifully took her hands and bowed his head. She waved her hand over him, murmured a blessing, and he stayed crouching a little so she could kiss his cheek. She then patted both his cheeks like he was still seven and smiled and told him in Punjabi to sit. She would bring him food. She was in the middle of rolling out chapatis with his mom’s mother. “Nanima,” he said, also taking her hands and bowing his head.
She complained he was too skinny. She would have done that if he didn’t run most mornings and hit the gym with his trainer several nights a week. If he came home more, he would likely be too fat. There was no middle ground. Again, she urged him to sit, telling him in Hindi that the food was nearly ready. Clearly, he was expected to eat, not comfort Asha.
“I will, I will,” he promised. “I’ll eat with everyone.”
Not like he had a choice.
But he’d enjoy the meal. He loved his Mummyji and Nanima’s cooking. For his entire life, Mummyji had lived with him or his cousins, taking care of them all while his dad, uncle, mom and aunt had built successful careers. He loved them for their care and unconditional love, but they both made it so damn hard to stop eating even when he was full.
“I’m going to see everyone.” He pressed his palms together, the silent namaste and a promise he’d be back to eat soon.
Of course his mom blocked him from leaving the kitchen.
“You will help her, won’t you?” His mom’s voice edged with demand, now that she’d lost his full attention.
“Asha? Of course.” But what could he do? Rani, who was writing her dissertation in clinical psychology—last he checked—would be better at soothing any heartbreak than he was.
“No. Anju Auntie, you know just a little…” She mimed giving a shot.
“You want me to drug her?” he asked in disbelief.
“Shshshsh.” His mom’s beautiful eyes widened innocently.
“You want me to drug Auntie?” he repeated. His mom had made some pretty intense and out-there demands during his thirty-two years. And she thought he was essentially responsible for her personal sun and moon rotation—no pressure there. But this? All kinds of wrong. All sorts of breeched barriers.
Hard no.
“Just a little something.” His mom rubbed his arm soothingly, while his nanima returned to the chapatis, chattering away in Punjabi to Mummyji and pretending that they didn’t speak or understand English so that he and his mom could pretend that they had privacy. The determined whir of the exhaust fan didn’t do much to cut the fragrance of the roasted cumin and cardamon overlaying the scents of the daal, sabazi, and butter chicken—his favorite, that he usually tried to resist.
“Anju Auntie is not a zoo animal I can tranq so that I can clean her teeth,” he said firmly because his mom would push. And push. And keep pushing.
“Just a little pop of something to calm her down.”
“Like what? No. Forget I asked that. I don’t even want to know. I have a little over two months more of my training at Duke, and I’m not pissing it all away prescribing something for a family member. Besides, you’re a doctor. You can prescribe something if you want.”
“I am a dermatologist,” his mother said with dignity. “And your language, Rohan could use some elevation. I am your mother.”
Like he could forget.
“All I’m asking my only child, my precious, accomplished, loving son for is a little something for my cherished sister-in-law to take the edge off so I can talk to her more reasonably. There are plans we must make. We need a message. Anju needs to calm a little.”
Plans? His aunt was the top event planner in Charlotte. Bigger than that. The wedding for her eldest daughter had been spectacular even for her reputation. Sure, his family was a pillar of Charlotte’s large Indian community, starting with his grandparents who had immigrated in the early eighties, and they were fairly wealthy, but they weren’t celebrities.
“Surely you have something in your car. Pills? IV?”
“No.” What shows had some of her friends been streaming and discussing at the wine and book nights that would give her that idea? Besides, his father was a cardiac surgeon. She would know the lines he wouldn’t cross.
He wouldn’t, would he?
Worry tugged at him. His mother frowned. She was still so beautiful at sixty. She hated the vertical line that had formed between her brows so much that she’d started using fillers a few years ago, which now gave her the look of a familiar stranger. She could be his older sister, not his mother, and it was disconcerting.
He looked across the elegantly opulent open ground floor of his aunt’s lakeside house. Everything was bathed in pink and orange. His father leaned against the balcony railing, whiskey in his hand, watching his twin pace. He should join them. They’d expect it, but he wanted to check in with Asha. Maybe she was taking this better. He could see Asha sitting down on the patio by the dock, staring out at the lake. Her sisters—Rani sat in a chair next to her and Shanti was as always, on her phone, hair obscuring her face, sitting on Asha’s other side.
An idea took hold.
“Are you even listening to me?” his mother huffed, crossing her arms across her slim body.
Had she been talking?
“Just be with Anju Auntie,” he urged his mom. “Let her cry. It’s a huge disappointment and shock and…hurt.”
“It’s humiliating,” his mother cut to the bone. “Asha publicly rejected two days before jai mala. Two. It’s the first wedding of the season. The largest. Most anticipated and now it’s gone. Poof,” his mother made a clicking sound deep in her throat and her hands mimed an explosion. “By tomorrow everyone will know that Asha has been rejected. He changed his mind. What does that mean? How can a groom change his mind at the last minute? He had two meetings with her and the family. He agreed to the marriage. He and Asha even attended two social events together. Changed his mind.” She pffted her lips and rolled her eyes. “Everyone will think there’s something wrong with Asha, that she’s da…”
“Keep it down,” he interrupted as his mom’s voice rose with each word.
Asha was not damaged goods, and the last thing she needed was to be reminded of the public rejection. God. What was she thinking? Or feeling? He couldn’t even imagine, but he could easily imagine a groom getting cold feet. Marriage was forever, or it should be. No Kapoor had divorced. Ever.
“And now it’s too late,” his mom whispered, her tone heavy with significance.
“She shouldn’t take him back if he changes his mind again,” Rohan said. “Guneet’s a douche.”
Rohan had only met him once at an intimate family party—with sixty or seventy-five guests—a meet and greet with the family. He’d seemed like a good guy. Nothing spectacular. But no warning bells. He’d been into college hoops so they’d talked for a few minutes, and then Asha had led him off to meet more people.
But Rohan was loyal and any good qualities Guneet possessed were now consigned to the trash bin.
“Your language. You don’t talk to your patients like that, I hope.”
Rohan barked a laugh, imagining if he rolled out a few f-bombs during a consultation.
“There’s nothing funny here,” his mom said. “Asha is ruined.”
“Mom cut the drama. It’s the twenty-first century. Asha’s had a disappointment, but she still has her family and her career. She hardly knew Guneet. A few months and she’ll meet…” He broke off at his mother’s pitying look. Her lips pressed together tightly.
“No one will agree to match with her now.” His mom was adamant, like Krisha had just whispered a secret of the universe.
“You don’t know that,” he objected.
“I do. Everyone does. Asha knows too. People will talk. They’ll think something’s wrong with her.”
“Asha is a lovely person through and through. No one will think this is her fault.”
“Beta, you are so sweet.” His mother patted his cheek. “You never see the bad in anyone.”
That was patently not true.
“But it’s true. Asha’s good name is gone. People were already saying she was too old.”
“Hell no,” he burst out, pissed that Asha, who had done so much for so many people in the community over the years, would be gossiped about negatively and reduced to a number she had no control over.
“You do not know this town like I do. Her age is an issue. Her only hope now is to accept someone far beneath her.” His mother shuddered.
“I don’t buy it,” Rohan shook his head. “Asha is at the top of her field. She’s smart. Kind. Generous. Beautiful. She’s not doomed. No way.”
“You are such a good son,” his mom approved. “Loving. Loyal. But we have to plan. We need to deflect this tragedy.”
His mom and aunt had epic social skills, but this debacle was far too heavy a lift even for them to spin into something positive.
“We’re just going to have to take it on the chin,” he said, not really caring what people said about them. He knew who he was. He knew the good his family had done for others and for the community.
“No. We don’t go down. We fight back. Anju will try for a match for Shanti next. But I think she should wait. Let the gossip die down. We…you and I can give our friends something much different to talk about.”
Again, she looked him up and down like she was at a livestock auction.
Hard no.
Hell no.
“Mom, let’s just shelve this. I’m going to check in with Asha. See if there’s something I can do.” Saliva flooded his mouth even though he hadn’t eaten today. He felt like he was going to vomit.
Damn. Just damn. He’d been safe while he’d been training. His parents respected academics and training. But early June he was being cut loose to enter the fully adult world. And he could feel the noose around his neck. His father had already started the push for him to join his cardiac practice. And now his mom had all but said she was on the hunt for his bride.
Nope. Not happening. Not now when freedom was in sight.
He pocketed the boat keys, a loose idea forming. It was a bit early in the season, but unseasonably warm. And maybe getting out of ear- and eyeshot would help all of them. Childish. He’d only arrived but already wanted to flee.
Five days to go.
Rohan walked through the great room and outside onto the covered deck. He waved to his dad and pointed at his three cousins down sitting on the dock as an excuse to escape. He ran down the stairs, past the massive patio, pool, pool house and tennis court, and for a moment, he had an image of himself as a boy, running across a lawn—maybe at his first house or maybe a park, chasing Asha as she ran ahead of him, laughing and blowing bubbles that drifted over her head and trailed behind her like she was a magical fairy.
He jammed his hands in the pockets of his suit trousers and walked down the dock with purpose. This sucked. His three cousins seemed trapped in a bubble world just out of reach. Asha stared blankly across the lake, her sundress hiked up to mid-thigh and her bare legs dangling in the lake. Shanti stared at her phone, concentration absolute, fingers flying. Rani had a pitcher of something that she stirred frantically as if she were creating a critical, time-sensitive potion.
They’d been holding on to this news for nearly two hours. He felt like his head was going to explode from the pressure. The need to do and say something, to solve this problem was fierce. He strode past them without a word and began to methodically tug off the blue tarp on the boat. He hit the hydraulic lift to lower the boat into the lake. He hopped on board and turned to his cousins.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here. Bring the juice.”

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Is it a love for the ages or just a season?

Rohan Kapoor is the golden boy of Charlotte. As a newly minted cardiothoracic surgeon with several prestigious job offers, potential brides eagerly line up when his parents—pillars in their Indian American community—hire a matchmaker. Even his favorite cousin Rani has a plan to divine his perfect match. But Rohan’s not looking for a bride, and then he takes a wrong turn, meeting a woman who changes the way he feels about everything.

After years of traveling and painting commissioned murals, artist Solei Beals wants to plant roots now that she’s been hired as a high school art teacher. She meets Rohan at an art festival, and the attraction sizzles. During the festival of Holi, Solei admits she’s fallen in love with a man who’s made it clear he’s not free to commit beyond spring.

As summer teases, Rohan’s family obligations and expectations create a barrier Solei’s not sure he’s willing to breach. And if Rohan’s not willing to fight for her or the life he says he wants, why should she?

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Meet the Author:

Sinclair Sawhney is a former journalist and middle school teacher who holds a BA in Political Science and K-8 teaching certificate from the University of California, Irvine and a MS in Education with an emphasis in teaching writing from the University of Washington. She has worked as Senior Editor with Tule Publishing for over seven years. Writing as Sinclair Jayne she’s published fifteen short contemporary romances with Tule Publishing with another four books being released in 2021. Married for over twenty-four years, she has two children, and when she isn’t writing or editing, she and her husband, Deepak, are hosting wine tastings of their pinot noir and pinot noir rose at their vineyard Roshni, which is a Hindi word for light-filled, located in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. Shaandaar!
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