I received this book for free from the Bought, Publisher in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.
Writing Mr. Right by Alina Khawaja Published by Harlequin, MIRA Books on June 10, 2025
Genres: Fiction / Coming of Age, Fiction / Diversity & Multicultural, Fiction / Friendship, Fiction / Magical Realism, Fiction / Muslim, Fiction / Own Voices, Fiction / Romance / Clean & Wholesome, Fiction / Romance / Contemporary, Fiction / Romance / Romantic Comedy, Fiction / Women
Pages: 304
Format: Audiobook, eBook
Source: Bought, Publisher
The Dead Romantics meets Book Lovers in this charming rom-com about struggling writer Ziya, who’s about to give up on her dream of publishing until she wakes up one morning to find a physical manifestation of her writing muse in her apartment.
Ziya Khan is a legal secretary by day, but she spends her nights working hard to be a published author. She’s spent the last few years trying to get her novel published about a young brown woman falling in love with a small-town brown man—but with no luck. After one particularly painful rejection on the night before her thirtieth birthday, Ziya decides to give up her pen for good and instead just wishes to be happy. Then, the next morning, Ziya wakes up to find Aashiq, a physical manifestation of her writing muse, sitting on her couch. Aashiq has materialized to help Ziya find her love for writing again, despite Ziya’s determination to keep her dreams in the past. But bit by bit, Aashiq starts to remind Ziya of why she loved writing and that her words matter more than she thinks. And impossibly, something more starts to blossom between them.
But as Ziya falls for Aashiq, he begins to disappear, which prompts her to choose: her art or her heart?
Have you ever wondered what would happen if your ideal—yet wholly fictional—character suddenly stepped into your life? Writing Mr. Right by Alina Khawaja takes that idea and runs with it, blurring the lines between imagination and reality in ways that are both captivating and unsettling.
In this excerpt, we see Ziya grappling with the impossible. What started as a creative outlet—writing the perfect antagonist—turns into something far more complicated when her muse materializes before her eyes. The chemistry, the chaos, and the surreal charm of Khawaja’s storytelling shine through in this moment, where Ziya must decide whether to fight against the unbelievable or surrender to it.
Dive into the excerpt below and experience the magic, the confusion, and the undeniable pull of Writing Mr. Right—a story that proves sometimes, fiction writes itself.
CHAPTER 1
Dear Ziya,
Thank you for your patience as I took my time with THE LONGEST GOODBYE. There’s so much to love about this manuscript—Haniya and Arsal are such wonderful characters who have great chemistry, but unfortunately, I didn’t connect with them and the story quite enough, so I regretfully have to pass on this one. Don’t forget this is just one agent’s opinion…
My eyes glaze over the rest of the email. A sigh rips through my chest as I already know what it says—a whole lot of nothing. I swear, I might as well tattoo the literary agent’s words to my eyeballs with the number of times I’ve read them.
But at least this rejection on my book is better than the last one I had; that agent literally pulled an “it’s not you, it’s me” and that somehow was way worse than if he’d just ghosted me.
I slide my phone back into my pocket as I walk down the street on my way to work. I take a sip of my coffee, and the bitterness of the bean juice goes well with the bitterness strung through my body. I knew I shouldn’t have checked my email so early in the morning. I made it a rule not to check my query email—the account I use to send out pitches of my book and sample chapters—before 5 p.m. But I saw the notification on my phone as I exited the subway and climbed the stairs to the street, and I thought maybe, finally, after a year of sending my book out to agents, this would be the one who would offer me representation. I matched so perfectly with their wish list for a romance novel—fresh characters, distinct voice, and feel-good ending. I hoped this would be the agent who would gush about my characters and my writing. They’d tell me how excited they were to work with me, and I’d finally get my writing career started.
But no; it’s another cookie-cutter response: I couldn’t connect to the characters or the story. What didn’t they connect with? The small-town setting? The young woman returning home for the first time in years since she’d left to attend college? The guy she’d left behind and promised to come back for—who might have been her true love, had she decided he was worth staying for?
My plan in this latest round of queries was that each time I got a pass from an agent, I’d send out five more, but that sounds mentally exhausting, especially after the near year and a half I spent outlining, writing, and revising this novel.
Maybe I should hold off on sending it and see if there are some edits I can make to the book. Or maybe it’s actually fine and it really was just subject to the agent’s taste. Or maybe—
A giant truck zips past me, its tires way too close to the curb. The driver goes right through a huge muddy puddle, which shoots upward and splashes all over me.
My spine curls as the dirty rainwater splatters my clothes. The cold water mixed with the dropping temperature in the air immediately causes the warmth in my body to evaporate. Goose bumps erupt all over my skin as the now-wet fabric of my shirt clings to my waist. I glance down at the outfit I took so long to settle on this morning—a brown pencil skirt with black pantyhose, and an orange sweater, which is now soaked and stained with watery mud that looks too close to something else I don’t want to think too much about. An earthy smell sticks to me, but not in a good way. If I were a male love interest in a book, I’d smell like the swirl of smoke from good firewood, or like I brushed my skin with a bristle of pine needles every morning. Instead, I smell like a bear who spent the afternoon rolling around in a patch of grass.
The short strands of my hair, previously carefully styled with a flat iron so they gently framed my cheekbones, now cling to my face in wet clumps. At least my mouth was spared; I don’t want to know what the combination of dirt and coffee tastes like.
“Damn it,” I hiss under my breath. I’m about a block away from my office building, and it’s way too far to go home and change. I pick up my pace, my heels clacking against the concrete. I swear each person I pass gives me the same grimace that says, Wow, sucks to be her.
Oh well. At least I’ll be behind a desk all day. I think getting splashed by a truck is actually better than running into street performers. Brooklyn, thankfully, doesn’t have its own version of the Naked Cowboy to terrorize tourists and commuters alike like in Times Square, so I can get to my office in relative peace.
I finally reach the building at the end of the street. Shivers rack my body as I pull the door open. I ignore the strange glances from the receptionist and head straight for the elevator. While inside it, I try my best to squeeze the water out of my hair, which isn’t easy because I have a bob cut and the ends fall to just below my chin. It’s already drying, the frizz adding a crunch to the consistency of the strands.
The elevator goes all the way up to the tenth floor, to the New Scope Law Office, where I’ve worked for the past six years. When the doors open, I carefully step out onto the sleek floors so I don’t slip in my wet heels. I tread cautiously, water still dripping from my body onto the floor. The last thing I need on top of everything else that’s happened this morning is to—
A shoulder bumps into mine as I round the corner, and it jostles the coffee in my hand. The hot liquid splashes onto my shirt, further staining my sweater and scalding the skin underneath. My arm rears back, a yelp caught in my windpipe at the stinging pain. I catch a glimpse of the person who ruined my outfit, but it’s one of the women who works in the doctor’s office next to ours. She doesn’t even bother to glance back as she makes it to the elevator and presses the button.
I huff, then examine the damage to my outfit. Blotches of brown leak through the material, and the scent of caffeine clinging to my skin is so strong it’s like I took a bath in a coffee maker, which I guess is better than smelling like a feral coyote, but there’s definitely no time to go home and get changed now.
Perfect. The one day I really need to look good, and I look like a drowned rat.
Excerpted from Writing Mr. Right by Alina Khawaja, Copyright © 2025 by Alina Khawaja Published by MIRA.
My Thoughts:
To be transparent right up front: I did enjoy listening to the audiobook for Writing Mr. Right, but there were a few things that just weirded me out when listening that lead me to give it only a three. I was a bit disappointed since I loved her last novel, Maya’s Laws of Love.
Alina Khawaja’s Writing Mr. Wrong offers a blend of romance, creativity, and unexpected twists that make for an engaging read. The novel follows aspiring writer Ziya, who channels all her frustration about love into crafting the perfect fictional character—only for her muse to mysteriously materialize in real life. While this premise is intriguing, it also takes a turn that I found a bit unsettling: Ziya not only accepts the surreal nature of her muse’s existence but ultimately falls in love with him–even though he was a part of her come to life.
At the beginning of the book, Ziya is a passionate but somewhat jaded writer, working during the day as an unappreciated and driven legal secretary. She had spent her free time writing small-town romances, but no agent has liked her books enough to sign her on. Ziya’s finally had enough and decided she wants to go to law school instead, and that’s when her muse unexpectedly materializes as a living, breathing, attractive man named Aashiq.
Throughout the novel, she oscillates between skepticism and fascination, initially resisting the idea that her muse’s existence is real. As the story progresses, Ziya undergoes a gradual unraveling of her tightly held perceptions about love. Her emotional arc pushes her to confront the possibility that what she believed to be mere fantasy might hold deeper truths about what she actually wants in a partner. While her acceptance of her muse’s reality may feel abrupt, it signifies a willingness to embrace the unknown and reevaluate her understanding of connection and desire.
Khawaja excels at crafting vibrant, emotionally charged scenes, and Ziya’s journey is filled with witty banter, romantic tension, and moments of self-discovery. The exploration of the writing process and the blurred lines between fiction and reality add a fascinating layer to the story. However, the shift from creative inspiration to a tangible, flesh-and-blood romance introduced an element that is a little unnerving. There’s something fundamentally eerie about a character morphing from fantasy to reality, and the fact that Ziya embraces this so wholeheartedly might leave some readers feeling unsettled rather than enchanted.
I give WRITING MR. RIGHT a three out of five. Despite the few problems I had throughout the book, this book remains an enjoyable read, delivering humor, heartfelt moments, and an unconventional love story. If you’re willing to suspend disbelief and lean into the oddity of its premise, you’ll find plenty to appreciate. Just be prepared for a touch of the surreal—and perhaps a bit of lingering unease if you think too hard about her muse materializing and actually being a part of herself–so it was just plain weird.
Find WRITING MR. RIGHT
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About ALINA KHAWAJA
Alina Khawaja is a Canadian Pakistani author. Seeing that she’s a graduate from the University of Toronto with a BA in English, history and creative writing, and from Toronto Metropolitan University with an MA in Literatures of Modernity, it’s been clear from day one that the only thing Alina could be is a storyteller. Alina lives in Ontario, Canada, where she spends the summer at theme parks and the winter cozying up inside with a ridiculously expensive coffee. When she’s not writing, she’s either reading or trying to keep up with her endless list of K-dramas. Her debut novel was Maya’s Laws of Love.
Find Alina Khawaja
Website | Twitter/X | Instagram | Goodreads
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