The Matchmaker: A Novel - Softcover

Saeed, Aisha

 
9780593871157: The Matchmaker: A Novel
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0593871154 ISBN 13: 9780593871157
Verlag: Random House Publishing Group, 2025

Inhaltsangabe

A society matchmaker realizes she’s in danger when her clients' weddings are sabotaged in increasingly disturbing ways—an utterly original mystery from New York Times bestselling author Aisha Saeed.

Nura Khan is a third-generation matchmaker in Atlanta and business has never been better. Her exclusive clientele benefits from her impeccable track record. And while a single thirty-one-year-old matchmaker would normally raise some perfectly threaded eyebrows in the community, Nura's childhood best friend Azar is willing to double as her pretend fiancé at her clients’ weddings—as long as Nura is able to hide that her feelings for him might not be so pretend. 

But Nura quickly learns that all that glitters isn’t gold. While it’s not uncommon to get the occasional hate mail from rejected prospective clients, after a couple’s carefully constructed wedding implodes, Nura is blindsided by a cascading chain of increasingly terrifying events and realizes someone is taking things too far. With Azar by her side, Nura embarks on a dangerous cat-and-mouse game that threatens not only her safety but everything she's worked so hard to build.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Aisha Saeed is a New York Times bestselling and award-winning author of books for younger readers. Her books include Amal Unbound, Written in the Stars, Yes No Maybe So (coauthored with Becky Albertalli), and Forty Words for Love. The Matchmaker is her adult debut. She lives in Atlanta with her family.

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One

• • •

The bride beams for the cameras against a backdrop of blood-red roses framing the wedding stage. Her newly minted husband stands by her side in a cream sherwani and matching turban. She’s in a golden lengha, hand-stitched with one thousand and one diamonds that shimmer beneath the lights. One could genuinely mistake them for royalty.

She scans the wedding hall. Every detail has been carefully arranged, from the long-stemmed moth orchid centerpieces to the twelve-layer wedding cake designed by Bontemps’s very own head pâtissière. Her eyes land on mine.

The crowd parts like the Red Sea as she and her husband make their way toward me.

“You made it!” she exclaims.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” I tell her. “Your vows were beautiful, and you look gorgeous.” I gesture to the ballroom. “This is all a dream come true.”

“Because of you.” She pulls me into a tight embrace.

“She’s right. Thanks, Nura.” Her husband smiles at me.

The crowd that’s been edging ever closer gasps. I’ve gone from just another of the seven hundred guests here to Nura Khan, matchmaker.

When the couple moves on, I’m quickly encircled.

“I can’t believe you’re the Nura Khan,” a woman in a pink sari says. “I just read the article about you in Vanity Fair.”

“Ah,” I say neutrally, as though it hasn’t been the bane of my existence since it was published last month. “It wasn’t about me. It’s about—”

“Lena Kamdar raved about you in it. I had no idea you matched Saba and Abid too.”

“I use your Piyar app all the time,” says another woman, gazing wistfully at the groom in the distance. “Still waiting for my Abid.”

“Like she met him on the app,” another retorts. “I’m sure she went the VIP route. Good luck affording it. If they even let you in.”

I clock their stunned expressions and feel a pang of sympathy. “The app is also very effective. It has the highest success rate on the market,” I reassure them. “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.”

Excusing myself, I head toward my seat and run into the wedding planner. We embrace and exchange pleasantries.

“Always wonderful to see you,” she says. “I can’t thank you enough for the referral.”

“I had a feeling she’d go with you. You’ve really outdone yourself tonight.”

“Saba was a delight to plan for,” she says, her smile shifting to a look of concern. “Tell me, how is your auntie? Is she recovering all right?”

“She’s getting better every day,” I tell her. “They finally discharged her from physical therapy last week.”

“The latest stroke was such a shock. Thank goodness she has you.”

“Well, her daughter is also—”

“Yes, yes, Nina’s finally deigning to visit. But you’re the one keeping it all together, aren’t you?” She adjusts her sari and gives me a knowing look. “I remember when you first arrived all those years ago. You were what, ten?”

“Seven.”

“Now look at you. Running the entire business. She couldn’t have passed things down to a better person. Give her my love?”

I promise her I will. I glance around the wedding hall, missing Khala’s presence all the more. Once upon a time, she would have been here with me. Charming everyone. She had a special eye for the people who needed our help the most. We’d have two dozen requests for matchmaking applications before samosas were served.

In the distance, the emcee announces the first dance for the bride and groom. A romantic ballad fills the space. I spot Azar at our table and settle down next to him. He’s finally here. And I have to say, my best friend—and pretend fiancé—cleans up nice. No three-day stubble and blue scrubs today. He’s in a gray Armani with a cream tie.

“You’re late.” I elbow him.

“Sorry.” He looks at me bashfully. “Got tied up at the ER.”

“You’ve been pulling a lot of long shifts lately. You doing okay?”

“We’re just about done wrapping up interviews for the open position. Should be fully staffed by the end of the month. No more late arrivals after that, I promise.”

“No worries. I was just networking a little.”

“Any potential VIP clients?” he asks.

“Not VIP, personalized,” I correct him. “Tonight was a slow evening. People were more interested in chatting about Lena’s Vanity Fair article. I’m officially clocking out for the night.”

“It sounds like Lena gave the agency some great word of mouth.”

“There can be too much of a good thing. We’re drowning in both inquiries and hate mail lately. Lesson for me about taking on a cosmetics heiress slash influencer.”

“Lena should have checked with you before talking to the press.”

“She meant well,” I acknowledge. “It’s not her fault the piece called us an ‘arranged marriage throwback.’ That’s the line getting the trolls all worked up.” I adjust the beaded embroidery on my sleeve. “Honestly, if I’d known I could wear scrubs to work, I’d have followed you to medical school instead.”

“You sure about that?” He furrows his brows. “Because you’d also have to be equipped to grab a needle to suture a bloody—”

“Okay! Stop!” I squeeze his arm. “You win!”

He grins. “You know you love this work.”

“I do.” I return his smile. “And it’s even better when you’re here.”

Azar’s return to Atlanta from New York City three years ago was a game changer. I love matchmaking. Helping people find love is what I was put on this earth to do. But there’s one catch in my line of work. A woman who matchmakes for a living and is thirty-one (going on thirty-two) years old and very much single? That raises eyebrows. Early on, I’d argued with Khala it wasn’t necessary to pretend I was spoken for. Those who don’t, teach—isn’t that the saying? Besides, I got the desired results. As the years have gone by, though, I’ve had to face the fact that no matter how progressive the world gets, an unmatched matchmaker prompts whispers. To look the part, I need a partner by my side. Long live the patriarchy. Luckily, Azar doesn’t mind filling in as my date, and with our busy schedules, weddings double as our chance to spend time together while eating delicious food.

“Are these wedding favors?” Azar lifts a Tiffany & Co. gold-plated clock next to his place setting.

“Engraved with their initials and today’s date.”

He eyes the tables stretched out in seemingly endless rows and lets out a low whistle. “How much did all of this cost?”

Azar’s an old pro at lavish weddings, but he still can’t quite process the wealth of some of my clients.

“Whatever these favors cost is nothing compared to the gift Saba got her blushing groom: a Bentley Batur.”

“That car goes for two million dollars!”

“Two point five,” I correct him. “It’s completely electric, though. So good for the...

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Verlag
Random House Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2025
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0593871154
ISBN 13 
9780593871157
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
321
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
preigu
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