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Trade Paperback. Zarqa Nawaz is a Canadian film and television producer, public speaker, journalist, and former broadcaster. Zarqa lives in Regina, Saskatchewan, with her loving but long-suffering family. Visit her at ZarqaNawaz. Funny, moving, brilliant. The result is a satirical masterpiece that few on earth would dare to do. But then, Nawaz has always been ahead of her time full disclosure, she is a friend. Jameela Green Ruins Everything may be her first foray into the world of fiction, but Nawaz has made a career of being a trailblazer. Follow Jameela Green, the comic she-ro for our modern times, as she bumbles through the unimaginable on this hilarious whirlwind adventure. Three cheers for Jameela Green! Our Summer Reading Recommendations. Red-hot romances, poolside fiction, and blockbuster picks, oh my! Start reading the hottest books of the summer. From heart-pounding thrillers to poignant memoirs and everything in between, check out what's new this month. Tell us what you like and we'll recommend books you'll love. Sign up and get a free ebook! Join our mailing list! Trade Paperback eBook. A Different Drummer Books. Another Story Bookshop. Audreys Books Ltd. Bakka Phoenix Books. Banyen Books. Beggar's Banquet Books. Black Bond Books. Blue Heron Books. Bolen Books. Book City. Book Express. Book Keeper. Books on Beechwood. Brome Lake Books. Bryan Prince. Chat Noir Books. Coho Books. Crockett Books. Curiosity House. Epic Books. Fanfare Books. Galiano Island Books. Good Egg. Gulliver's Bookstore. Hager Books. Ivy's Book Shop. Kids Books. La Maison Anglaise. Laughing Oyster Books. Le James McGill University. Librairie Bonder. Librairie Clio. Librairie Paragraphe. Livres Babar. Mabel's Fables. MacNally Robinson. Mill Street Books. Millennia Books. Misty River Books. Mosaic Books. Mulberry Bush Books. Munro's Books. Novel Idea. Odyssey Books. Open Book. Otter Books. Parent Books. Parry Sound Books. Perfect Books. Self-Connection Books. Shelf Life Books. Simply AudioBooks. Tanner's Books. The University of Manitoba Bookstore. The Village Bookshop. Type Books. University of Alberta. University of British Columbia. University of Calgary. University of Toronto. University of Victoria. University of Waterloo. University of Western Ontario. University of Winnipeg Bookstore. Volume One. Words Worth. Yellowknife Book Cellar. Table of Contents Excerpt Rave and Reviews. Jameela Green has only one wish. To see her memoir on The New York Times bestseller list. Jameela reluctantly accepts his terms, kicking off a chain of absurd and unfortunate events. The homeless man they try to help gets recruited by a terrorist group, causing federal authorities to become suspicious of Ibrahim, and suddenly the imam mysteriously disappears. Certain that the CIA have captured Ibrahim for interrogation via torture, Jameela decides to set off on a one-woman operation to rescue him. Her quixotic quest soon finds her entangled in an international plan targeting the egomaniacal leader of the terrorist organization—a scheme that puts Jameela, and countless others, including her hapless husband and clever but disapproving daughter, at risk. She was impressed. Her publicist, Arlene Baker, waved. She had on her uniform: a powder blue pantsuit last seen on Hillary Clinton or Chairman Mao. Jameela waved back. She air-kissed Jameela with her perfect raspberry pout. Jameela wondered how her lipstick never came off. Maybe it was tattooed on. But now there was something she needed badly. After decades of work, Jameela had finished her memoir. She looked up, trying to find God in the tin-stamped ceiling. Remember what we talked about, she thought. You will make my book go right to the top of the New York Times bestseller list like You do for all the white people You love so much: J. Rowling, George R. Martin, or even better, Margaret Atwood. And she has enough hair on her head to stuff a whole pillow. Do any of those people even believe in You? Probably not. Unless they know how to order a book from Amazon. If You need to send me a sign, use a grilled cheese sandwich. So fantastic. And your mom and her friends came, too. How sweet. She acknowledged them with a curt nod, her right hand in her jacket pocket, rubbing the blue marble prayer beads her brother, Jamal, had given her as a child. People streamed in by the dozens. She should have tried praying long ago. Who knew God could be so responsive? But then Courtney Leland entered. Jameela froze. The familiar chill of dread ran up her spine, even after all these years. Why was that woman here? Oh no. Suddenly it made sense why people were rushing to get front row seats. Jameela clutched her prayer beads so tightly her fingers hurt. Fear and anxiety sparked through her body. She was instantly transported back to high school, a time when she and her mother had constantly fought over her clothing choices. She was forced to wear pants under her dresses, and any hairstyle besides pigtails was deemed too alluring. During that tumultuous period, her brother had convinced her to join the yearbook staff to gain experience as a writer and develop confidence. By her senior year, she had become editor of the school yearbook and eked out a niche for herself—until Courtney joined the team and, like a black hole, absorbed all whose eyes gazed upon her. The caption editor was typed under her photo. She looked exactly the same now as she had back then, maybe a bit thinner and blonder. Her clothing choices perhaps had become more cutting edge. She wore knee-high black suede boots with stiletto heels over black leggings, a miniskirt, and an orange jacket with metal zippers everywhere. I am not in high school anymore. I am an accomplished woman. Please, everyone look at me, she thought. The cameras swung toward Courtney. Arlene came and sat beside a devastated Jameela. Reporters mobbed Courtney, who was turning her head at an angle perfected by a thousand Instagram photos. Her lips were parted just so, and her eyes looked off into an unknown distance. She even took out a pair of tortoiseshell glasses and posed with one of the ends lightly touching her lip. Was that even sanitary? Courtney put them on while tossing her hair, which also seemed to know exactly where to land. Arlene picked a piece of fluff off her lapel. The truth finally hit Jameela. We have a hard time getting people to Margaret Atwood anymore. It was the only way. Why does she get top billing? It was so kind of you. Jameela could sense Arlene was trying hard not to gush. And it worked! I became the editor in chief of Dazzle. Launched my literary career. Under my leadership, we now have more subscribers than Cosmo. I wanted to be part of the excitement. Really, you must be so busy with your own book promotion. My own parties are getting exhausting. But enough about me. Nothing like the first book. Oh, but you look great, considering. Did you only have one? She brings more publicity to your event. Follow her. She reeked of sophistication and glamour, while Jameela felt like a frumpy, middled-aged mother. After the applause died down, Courtney took off her orange jacket to reveal a transparent black blouse with a racy red bra underneath. Every eye turned to her. Even Jameela had a hard time looking away. Courtney took the mic, which was sitting on a small table between them. It was very funny. I thought I could read from the first chapter? I picked up a bottle of soda from the grocery shelf, but my mother snatched it and eyed the label suspiciously. My mother stared at me. They ban peanuts but allow pretend alcohol? No wonder this society is so dangerous, full of alcoholics and drug users. Not always, thought Jameela. She remembered trips to the West Coast when she and Jamal were young. She was another person. Jameela had been fourteen and had just started high school where Jamal was a senior. He died a week before his graduation. You describe yourself as looking like a hairy tarantula in boxers, but I thought you looked adorable. Boys and girls both wore cotton shalwar chemises at school. Shorts and gym class were foreign to her mother, who had grown up in Pakistan and needed time to adjust. But after Jamal died, there was no one to mediate, and a wall went up between Jameela and her parents. They wanted her to become a doctor, but she wanted to study creative writing and become a writer. She might as well have told them she wanted to become a ferret. If Jamal had lived, she would have had an ally. But after he died, she had no one until she met Murray in college, where Jameela secretly took writing classes and started chronicling her experiences growing up in an eccentric American-Muslim-Pakistani household. It had taken her a decade and half to finish her memoir and find a publisher, but here she was. Courtney turned to Jameela. Why is that? She knew what Courtney was trying to get out of her. Some people tittered uncomfortably. Jamal started congregational Juma prayers every Friday for the Muslim students, but sometimes non-Muslim students came to listen to his sermons because they offered solace, especially during exams. Jamal lived for soothing souls. He always talked about becoming a social worker. Jameela gave Arlene a look. But it was too late. She had deliberately chosen to omit that part of her life from the memoir. White women get a chance to tell our stories in print all the time. And quite frankly get more of the shelf space than we deserve. Jameela, what inspired you to write your book? There was only one way forward. There had been rumbling in the literary community that Courtney had purposefully set out to be kidnapped in Iraq. She immediately got kidnapped by insurgents, who thought she was a spy. It caused an international outcry and an equally spectacular rescue. The book and subsequent movie deal meant Courtney could quit her job at Dazzle and ride the speaking circuit for the rest of her life. The camera swerved back to her as she shrugged a blond lock over her shoulder. We have the same eyes. Jameela could sense Courtney fidgeting. She put her orange jacket back on and hugged herself. There was a sudden commotion as audience members got up and tried to comfort her. One woman offered her a tissue, which Courtney accepted and used to delicately dab her eyes. Jameela noted that she was careful not to smudge her eyeliner. Arlene gripped the microphone. Jameela and Courtney will be in the atrium to sign books. I thought this was my book launch. It had been decades since high school, and Courtney still managed to upstage her. She had more money and fame than Jameela, so why keep haunting her? We were lucky we could get her for free. Now, match my breathing. Arlene had a point. How could she compete with that? Jameela took out her favorite purple gel pen and moved to the table where a pile of her books sat untouched. With a cover illustration of a tree with bright yellow and orange leaves, it could have been a book about nursery rhymes. She was peering out from behind a chain-link fence. Like a snake self-correcting, the long line of people shifted so it was in front of Courtney. Nusrat picked up one of her books. Have you heard of her? You should read them. I love that white woman. Now, she can write. Nusrat forced the family to sit in the basement while the doorbell rang all evening, until Jameela heard eggs break against the windows. And now, after ruining her childhood, Nusrat had turned the rules around when it suited her. Nusrat flicked through the copy she was holding. God was clearly screwing with her. She needed professional help. There was only one place to go. Photograph Peter Scoular. Zarqa Nawaz. Get a FREE ebook by joining our mailing list today! By clicking 'Sign me up' I acknowledge that I have read and agree to the privacy policy and terms of use. Must redeem within 90 days. See full terms and conditions and this month's choices. More to Explore. Limited Time eBook Deals Check out this month's discounted reads. Learn More. Our Summer Reading Recommendations Red-hot romances, poolside fiction, and blockbuster picks, oh my! This Month's New Releases From heart-pounding thrillers to poignant memoirs and everything in between, check out what's new this month. Thank you for signing up, fellow book lover! See More Categories. Your First Name. Postal Code. Thank you!