For Long Island native Humaira Mirza, it’s always been about love – and she has the matchmaking track record to prove it. Having successfully found ‘the one’ for both her aunt and her sister, the twenty-three-year-old is ready to claim a bit of romance for herself. The perfect candidate? The gorgeous Rizwan Ali. But as Humaira employs her unique skills to obtain the perfect match with Rizwan, she’s forced to endure the disapproval of family friend Fawad Sheikh who she’s known forever.

Coming from a moderately traditional Muslim family, twenty-seven-year-old Samira Abdel-Aziz has endured her fair share of arranged matches—first dates she calls “doorknock appeals,” where she and her possible suitors eat snacks in her living room in the company of both sets of parents. Her general rule: no shoes with tassels, no cheesy leather jackets, no mustaches. A girl has to have some standards, right? The truth is, Samira is already experiencing enough wedding drama as an assistant at Bridal Bazaar magazine and as a gofer for her soon-to-be-married cousin and nemesis Zahra.

When the gold-dusted court invitation arrives at Suraya Saab’s forge, she believes it’s a joke. Nobles might seek her skills as a bladesmith—one of few who can imbue her work with precious jadu, the last source of magic in the realm—but she has no qualifications as a potential bride for the crown prince. Still, the invitation is the chance at adventure, and the means to finally visit the capital city her late mother loved. But what awaits her in Kaldari is nothing she could have imagined—and fraught with danger.

Thirty-three-year-old hijabi Sana Saeed has put away her childhood dream of ishq—an all-consuming, sweeping love. The arranged dates she's agreed to have failed time after time, and she has responsibilities to consider—namely her sweet, autistic younger brother, Zia. Sana and Zia are a package deal, and she wouldn't have it any other way. But their traditional mother won't allow Sana to be named as his future guardian . . . unless she's married.

The unnamed Iranian-Indian American narrator of Liquid has always believed herself to be the smartest person in the room. And from an early age, she and her best friend—a poet-turned-marketer named Adam—have turned their noses up at other peoples’ riches. But two years after earning a PhD from UCLA, the narrator is no closer to the middle-class comfort promised to her by the prestige of her fancy, scholarship-funded education and the successes of her immigrant parents. Jokingly, Adam suggests she just "marry rich."