All That Sizzles: Is Love A Secret Ingredient We Desperately Need?

A spicy meet-cute that will delight your rom-com palate! Wedding planner Tanvi Bedi is all fired up about her latest project, the $100 million wedding of a media heiress. The only hitch is her high-profile client’s wishlist chef, Nik Shankar. Weddings are a complete no-no for Nik, but there must be something—or someone—he can’t resist. What starts as a recipe for disaster whips up into a delectable feast of simmering chemistry and fiery passion. But as the line between fake and real blurs, Tanvi and Nik must confront their inner demons before their charade goes up in smoke. Could love be the secret ingredient they need?

Excerpted from All That Sizzles, written by Sakshama Puri Dhariwal; published by Penguin India.

An Excerpt

Tanvi Bedi stared at her puke-encrusted juttis and sighed. This is the reason wedding planners wear sneakers under their saris, she thought with disgust. But there was no way she could have foreseen the bride-to-be, a self-proclaimed teetotaller, drinking herself into a near-stupor before throwing up all over Tanvi’s designer shoes.

Tanvi swallowed back a curse and rubbed Sheena’s back, watching her regurgitate pink fluids all over the hem of Tanvi’s sari.

Watermelon margaritas were definitely going on Tanvi’s Taboo List. Her boss and owner of Iris Wedding Planners, Riya Sridharan, had started the list as a joke on the whiteboard at the office. Other items on the list were live animals at a wedding (an unfortunate episode involving a pet goat), DDLJ-themed weddings (especially if a real train was required) and the song ‘Ishq Tera Tadpave’ by Sukhbir. Every DJ on Tanvi’s roster knew not to play that song, regardless of how many drunk uncles tossed paanch sau ke note on to the DJ console. ‘Why do you hate that song so much?’ Riya had wondered aloud.

‘I have nothing against the song,’ Tanvi had clarified. ‘I just hate it when people sing the “ho ho ho ho” part.’ Riya had laughed. ‘You hate people. Period.’ While that wasn’t entirely true, Tanvi’s patience for small talk and polite conversation was limited. And yet Tanvi had picked—and excelled in—a profession the basic requirement for which was superlative interpersonal skills. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Riya always said that while Tanvi’s eye for detail and organizational capabilities were exceptional, it was actually her no-nonsense attitude that won people over. Tanvi was a straight shooter who didn’t believe in setting unrealistic goals with misleading deadlines or inaccurate budgets—a trait that had earned her the respect and trust of her vendors. She pushed her team to do better with each new wedding, but if shit ever hit the fan (which, on Tanvi’s watch, it seldom did), she took responsibility and tried to fix the problem—a trait that had earned her the undying loyalty of her team.

With Tanvi, what you saw was what you got, and that was the foundation of her strong reputation. Sure, every once in a while, her lack of filter sent brides storming out of meetings, threatening to take their business elsewhere. But that’s where Riya came in, managing hurt feelings with genuine empathy instead of crafty charms, calming the heightened emotions of the couple and their families with compassion. It was the combination of Riya’s inimitable people skills and Tanvi’s get-shit-done attitude that had turned the boutique wedding planning company into a successful, reputable business.

‘Hating people is an imperative skill for a wedding planner,’ Tanvi grumbled.

‘I’m a wedding planner and I don’t hate people,’ Riya reminded Tanvi. ‘You hate Lady K,’ Tanvi pointed out. ‘Kameeni Singhvi,’ Riya muttered under her breath, an implicit acknowledgement of her dislike for the media mogul. Sheena’s mother, Kamini Singhvi, was the chairperson of the News Today Media Group and one of the most powerful women in the world. Forbes magazine had listed her at #38, below Oprah Winfrey but above Beyoncé. Having inherited the media group from her father, the mild-mannered and personable Bhanu Bhandari, at the age of twenty-six, Kamini had to learn very quickly how to survive and thrive in a man’s world. She knew everyone who mattered—world leaders, business tycoons, sports stars, fashion icons, you name it and—Riya still couldn’t believe that Lady K referred to him by his first name—the Dalai Lama.

Kamini had a categorical aversion to inefficiency, she seldom bestowed praise, rarely betrayed emotion and was never, ever, late. During the three hours she spent each day at the News Today HQ, all eighteen floors of the impressive building were on high alert. It was only after ‘Elvis has left the building’ was circulated on Office Messenger, that the 6000 employees breathed again, the weight of awe and fear lifted off their shoulders, at least temporarily. Unfortunately for Tanvi, ever since they had planned the wedding of her older son, the only person Lady K condescended to interact with at Iris Weddings was Tanvi.

‘Maybe she sees you as a younger version of herself,’ Riya conjectured, trying not to take Lady K’s slight personally. ‘Thanks,’ Tanvi said sarcastically. ‘Or maybe she sees you as a younger, tinier, version of herself,’ Riya teased, referring to Tanvi’s 5'2" frame. In response to Tanvi’s glower, Riya chuckled. ‘I suppose your hot temper is a far cry from her stoic disposition. Not to mention your extensive vocabulary of expletives.’ ‘You flatter me,’ Tanvi deadpanned.

Riya laughed. ‘You know what I mean. You both have zero tolerance for bullshit.’ If only Riya could see just how much crap—or rather, vomit—Tanvi was having to put up with right now. She opened her mouth to call out Sheena for the rich, entitled brat that she was, but watching the girl’s entire body convulse as the contents of the day hurled out of her, made Tanvi feel . . . pity. Having been around her share of privileged heiresses, Tanvi knew how little control they truly had over their own lives.

‘I always wanted an arranged marriage,’ Sheena had gushed to Riya and Tanvi at their first meeting. ‘How lovely!’ Riya responded, a tacit acknowledgement that Sheena’s mere phrasing was enough to convince her—and the world—that the marriage was Sheena’s choice. ‘Which is not to say that I don’t love Suyash,’ she added hastily. ‘But when the stakes are so high, you learn to love the one you marry.’ ‘Sure,’ Tanvi agreed, helping herself to a scone from the three-tiered stand laden with baked goods. ‘Give me 50,000 crore and I’ll fall in love with whoever you want.’