100 Books Like Destiny for Love Arranged

I love an amnesia trope, and this one delivered!

I couldn’t read fast enough to find out who Zoe really was before her accident and how everything would be revealed. And Jo Watson delivered a rollicking ride filled with feelings–so much feels!–and it just kept getting better, coming together like a tapestry right until the end. It was a journey the heroine went on, and as a reader, I also went along with her, which was magical & so enthralling!

Set in Johannesburg mainly and the South African countryside, it showed normal people living normal lives amid extraordinary circumstances, all with a feel-good, rom-com vibe throughout.

Imagine if Bridget Jones had been African–Nigerian, to be more precise, and instead of just a nosy/meddling mother, she had a huge Yoruba family to contend with! I absolutely adored the POV of the heroine, Nifemi, in this tale! I could read her stream-of-consciousness chapter starts forever and not be bored.

Feyi Aina writes with humour and that special touch of "down to Earth" that makes her heroine resonate. Anyone with a big, traditional family–whether Nigerian, Indian, or even Irish–will totally get Nifemi and her struggle to find what love means and where it’s waiting for her.

I’m a sucker for all things Royal! Give me a prince and/or princess looking for love in today’s world, and I’m sold. This one has a princess and a prince!

Imagine you’re a princess bidden to enter a marriage of convenience with a neighbouring land’s prince. Then, on your wedding day, you get into an accident, your new husband dies, and when you wake from a coma, you find you’ve now been legally married off to the new Crown Prince, aka your late husband’s younger brother. And he’s hot as sin itself!

This one is more on the steamy side, but don’t let it deter you. Amidst all the heat is a treasure trove of feels and warring emotions and a seismic journey of falling for the "wrong" person who now happens to be exactly the right one!

Another one with the amnesia trope (I told you it’s a fave of mine!) Except in this one, the hero wakes up with amnesia, not recalling that his gorgeous wife is his on paper only…Kiru Taye can write angst! Feelings in general, but angst, turmoil, and passion that don’t just mean an opened bedroom door? She delivers.

I loved witnessing the romance brewing here and just waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it did, everything escalated, yet at no point did it feel like "too much." I also loved how it showed me a slice of Nigeria, in lifestyle, culture, and day-to-day living, that I’d never experienced before, opening my eyes to what life on the African continent is truly like when one looks beyond the trauma and misery overflowing in African literature.

Naipaul's long-form reportage "Crocodiles of Yamoussoukro," included in this collection of essays from around the world, including Africa, taught me to root my stories simply.

When I was struggling to locate the core thread of Stringer, I stumbled upon this essay about the Ivory Coast, and more than the descriptions of the place—often dark and mystical—what moved me most was when Naipaul described his reasons for traveling to the Ivory Coast: in part because he was enamored with his French teacher, an elegant woman wearing an African headdress.

It seemed to me marvelous that a large journey could begin in such a precise, universal moment.

Award-winning novelist Molteno takes us on a mesmerising journey of discovery, tracing the origins of her fictional worlds. From the mountains of Tajikistan to remote parts of Africa, in small English towns or huge Indian literary festivals, she engages with people she meets and is inspired by them. Through these vignettes she threads reflections on the creative process—why we write, and what fiction does for us. Through Marion’s clear and involving writing, we encounter not one but several truly remarkable women, as she weaves the emergence of her writing life into her own much-travelled and absorbing story.

This book fills a gap that I didn’t know was missing until I read it.

Not much has been written documenting the history of Black Africans in 20th/21st Century London, but Jimi Famurewa covers the migration, the cultural contributions, the food, the music, the community…ah, it really covers a lot.

Non-fiction is never really my go-to but is immensely readable and the research is thorough and sharp. It filled in some the gaps in the word-of-mouth anecdotes you hear from the older generation, as well as introduced me to corners of our history that I wasn’t as familiar with.

A memoir by a young biracial woman who travels to Israel, Jamaica, Ethiopia, Ghana, and the U.S. South, searching for her own identity. 

The pleasure in the memoir comes from her journey. She is a good storyteller and takes us inside her often uncomfortable encounters with folks she has romanticized as being the “real” Black folks. Raboteau discovers, after searching for ten years all over the world, that rather like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, her true home lies within. 

One of the things I loved about the book was her well-told conversations and visits with people in countries I knew little about. The book was the winner of American Book Award.

This edited volume studies Black festive traditions in the Americas that are rooted in African interpretations of early-modern Iberian customs. It shows how, from the beginning of the transatlantic slave trade, enslaved and free Africans in the Americas used Catholic brotherhoods as spaces for cultural and religious expression, social organization, and mutual aid. By demonstrating that the syncretic development of certain Black performance traditions in the Americas is a phenomenon that already set in on African soil, it breaks with previous scholarship that (mis)interpreted these festive traditions in the Americas as new, Creole syncretisms. I am convinced that this pioneering book will strongly affect the way future generations of scholars will come to understand Black cultural and religious identity formation in the Americas.

This book provides a detailed and trenchant analysis of how African novels have sought ways of reflecting and resisting the destruction wrought by colonial occupations and neo-colonial extractive capitalism. This analysis thoughtfully includes ‘nonhuman life’ and the need to ‘redefine our notion of personhood to include other beings that we do not normally ascribe to this (yet with whom our ecological history remains deeply entangled).’ Iheka also points out how Africa has ostensibly been demarcated as a ‘sacrifice zone’ by other major global powers (many of who benefited from the colonial enterprise) and how African fiction attempts to decentre narrative perceptions from the Global (and anthropomorphic) North. I enjoyed the subtle and inclusive approach of the author, who emphasised the porous nature of borders and the ethical need to reengage with what it means to be human as a way of finding our way out of a ‘slow apocalypse.’