The Shadows We Make
Jo Allen Ash
Publication date: July 14th 2022
Genres: Dystopian, Science Fiction, Young Adult

Grace Irese, sixteen-year-old desert warrior with a chip on her shoulder, is gifted in ways she does not yet realize. Duncan Oaks, teenage member of the Grif-Drif Con-Artist Guild, is a boy who has made one bad choice too many. When they are both remanded to an off-world juvenile facility with lifetime sentences. Grace and Duncan plot an escape into the horrific environment beyond in order to save Duncan’s sister from Grace’s war-torn world. Will they and their unlikely companions survive unscathed or find themselves forever altered?

Set in dark alien words and told in the first person with three separate voices, The Shadows We Make is a young adult tale filled with bravery, magic and the binding power of friendship.

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EXCERPT:

Grace

A stench swirled on the winds as flames devoured ancient timber and more—so much more. I didn’t want to think about the more, but I drew a deep, desperate breath, coughed, spat on the ground, imagining the more despite my best intentions.

For fifty-one days, Citadel had been burning, filling the air with the smell from those faraway fires. Sitting with my back to the wall, knees drawn up to my chest, I studied the flames coloring the distant horizon like a rising sun. Ash traveled on the wind across the miles. Delicate, paler than sand, it settled on my arms, caught in my hair, dusted trousers and tunic. When I rose, my muscles had cramped. I stretched and listened. Voices drifted from neighboring dwellings as people came out to converge on the nearby common, assessing events, speculating about the emissaries who had ventured into Citadel, my parents included. They had not yet returned. As only a few days had passed, no one worried overmuch. At least not out loud.

I heard others speaking, too: strangers whose desert vernacular differed slightly from ours. I had no trouble understanding them. I had always been fluent in the various dialects, as well as the languages used within the city and elsewhere. It was my gift, to be so empowered. I supposed word of it had conferred on me the value which had caught Stone Tiran’s interest. My particular ability, and my warrior status.

I turn and spat on the ground again, this time in disgust.

Crossing the yard, the sand shifted beneath my bare feet. I had left my sandals on the doorstep. No matter. Who would see? And even if they did, I did not care. Rules, law, traditions, none concerned me the way they did my brothers, my parents, our tribe. I tried to keep my disdain to myself, but sometimes it leaked out, resulting in fury or an occasional, reluctant amusement among my family members. I had at one time wondered if my recalcitrance was the reason for their agreement to the bonding with Stone Tiran. The man possessed, after all, nothing to elevate our family. Indeed, the Irese clan was held in such high esteem the gain was to Tiran alone. Bonding was arranged between city dwellers and influential desert clans as a way to increase power, prestige. Stone Tiran possessed none of those with which to barter, and yet my parents had agreed to his request.

I resisted spitting on the ground again. It was a nasty habit I could well do without.

At the wall, I leaned my forearms atop warm stones, blatantly eavesdropping while I watched a girl with hair as dark as mine. We shared a birth anniversary, she and I, having been born the same day a year apart. She was now fifteen and I, sixteen. A wide lavender streak curved through her braid. Mine was the color designated to the Ser Irese, a blue as dark as midnight, identical in shade to the tattoo upon my left cheekbone. Mara had not yet received hers. Her warrior training was incomplete.

Snatching a tiny white pebble from beneath my fingers, I lobbed it at her. She jerked around, eyes flashing angrily until she saw me. She hurried over to the wall.

“Grace!”
I smiled. “Where have you been?”
“Practically under lock and key. I only came out today because I begged my uncle to let me accompany him.”
Yes, without her warrior’s status, she would not have been allowed to wander freely in the present circumstances. I nodded sympathetically.
“Where are your brothers?” she asked. She had her eye on the youngest. We plotted misadventures to get them together, but thus far had met with no success.

“They left,” I said.

“When?” she cried, thinking of Connor, I knew. We had strange names, my siblings and I. They came from our mother. It was her blood which gave me my green eyes, my paler skin like bronze rather than the ruddy brown most possessed.

“Three days ago.”
“And they left you alone?” she demanded enviously.
“Of course,” I said, trying for nonchalance. I could not help adding, “Not totally alone. Ella is here.”
She flicked her fingers, dismissing Ella. I didn’t like when she did that. I liked everything about Mara except her dismissal of Ella due to her humble birth. Ella had been with us since my eldest brother’s birth. She was, to me, family.

“I’m grateful she’s here,” I said.

Mara shrugged, glancing over her shoulder to the crowd on the common and back again. I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Don’t pout,” she said.

I almost walked away, right then, but I stayed, watching her, listening to the others. “Mara, have you heard anything? I think communications are down.”

She shook her head. “They are, or so my father says. No one can get through to anyone who’s gone to the cities.”

Cold fire danced along my spine. I reached my fingers across the small gap between the wall and Mara’s shoulder, but she didn’t see them, her attention diverted by two men arguing. I didn’t know who they were. Several more stepped in, voices raised. I pulled my hand back.

“Come inside,” I said.

“I can’t. My uncle is calling me.” I saw where she looked now, to her waving relative urging her to his side. “I’ll try to see you tomorrow, but you know how it is now.” She started to turn away, swung back to me, eyes on mine. “But how could I have forgotten? I’ve wanted to ask for ages now. Is it true? Tell me, quickly.”

I didn’t need to ask her meaning. Although my parents had attempted to hide what happened, secrets had a way of surfacing like worms working their way up through the soil in the garden. “Yes,” I admitted. “It’s true.”

Mara’s mouth dropped wide. “That can’t be.” “It is.”
“Once the contracts were negotiated—”
“I know.”

She stared a moment longer before wagging her head from side to side. “You’re a fool, Grace Irese,” she said, “a terrible fool.”

I flinched and she was gone, disappearing quickly into the gathering. Releasing a long sigh, I turned on my heel and went back inside, whisking my sandals from the step as I went.

Maybe I was a fool. It didn’t feel that way to me, though. I’d made a stand, angering everyone in the process, but I felt no shame in having done so. The first glimpse of Stone Tiran’s enraged countenance should, perhaps, have given me pause, yet somehow it hardened my resolve. His threats had made my final words easy.

I refuse the offer of bonding.

The deceptively simple ceremony promising me to a veritable stranger had been the next step, with the official ceremony to take place two years after, when I reached majority. Some girls welcomed it, worked on their wedding clothes during the intervening years with joy and anticipation. I couldn’t imagine why. I had never been able to imagine why.

Author Bio:

I have been traditionally and self-published with books released by the former Warner Books, Kensington, and indie companies under my own name and pseudonyms. Once and Always (written as Alyssa Deane), was translated and sold in various European countries. I self-publish the Connor Falls Christmas series as Robin Maderich, but I have always wanted to return to writing for the young adult reader. Perhaps this is why The Shadows We Make, penned as Jo Allen Ash and my debut as a YA author, is the accomplishment about which I am most excited.

The Shadows We Make is a young adult tale of dystopian sci-fi/fantasy filled with complex and compelling characters. In The Shadows We Make, I burrow down into dark themes such as addiction, hopelessness and loss, countered by the strength and unexpected sweetness of forged friendships. The next book in the planned series, The Thrice-Gifted Child, continues where The Shadows We Make leaves off, with the same cast of characters and a few more besides.

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Crossing the Line
Lynn Rush & Kelly Anne Blount
Published by: Entangled: Teen
Publication date: September 5th 2022
Genres: Contemporary, Romance, Young Adult

A patch of black ice is all it takes for Ryan “Preach” Armstrong’s perfectly planned future to skid out of control. The car crash shatters his hockey dreams…and injures Woodhaven’s newest student, Grace Milner. As much as this feisty track phenom gets under Preach’s skin in all the best and worst ways, she might just be his path to redemption…

Grace can’t believe that all it took was seriously bad timing and a hot but prickly hockey player to threaten her lifelong dream of joining the Air Force. Now, instead of prepping for the track season and upcoming start of basic training, she has to complete community service with the absolute last person she would ever want to be stuck with—the guy who shattered her future.

When two fierce competitors collide this hard, the only result is heartbreak…or an epic victory as they cross the finish line together.

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EXCERPT:

“Preach!” Jessa said.

Something pushed me at the shoulder, sending a flare of pain up my neck.

“Preach!”

I batted at the hand pawing my shoulder as the scene fell into focus.

“Are you okay?” Jessa’s gray eyes were wide and her blond hair wild. Tears streamed down her face as her jaw tensed.

“Yeah. Yeah. You?” I sat up, fighting the urge to scream at the pain streaking down the side of my neck. “Is the girl okay? Where is she?”

“You’re cut.” Jessa reached for me.

I grabbed her hand. “Are you okay?” Jessa was one of my best friends. I couldn’t handle it if she was hurt.

She nodded. “Let’s go check on the girl.”

My stomach hollowed out. I’d hit someone. I hit a person.

What if I killed her? This was not happening. Could not be happening. I yanked my seat belt off and shoved the deflating airbag to the side enough to find the door handle. My head swam, and my vision tilted, but I blew it off. I had to help the girl.

She was all that mattered right now.

“What was she doing in the middle of the road like that?” I yelled.

“I don’t know! Come on!” Jessa said.

My head spun as I fumbled with the door handle, and a wave of nausea threatened to pull me under. Finally, I managed to get out of the Jeep and hustled around the front. My hood was right up against the car the girl was standing near, so I was blocked. I bolted around the back end to find Jessa leaning over a sprawled-out girl.

“Hey. Are you okay?” she asked.

The girl was lying on her back, auburn hair splayed all over the ground, a deep contrast to the thin layer of white snow coating everything. The girl held something furry in her left arm tight to her chest.

She was wearing a maroon GORE-TEX jacket, tight black leggings, and what looked to be running shoes. She couldn’t have been out here running, could she? No, no way. It was freezing and the streets were coated with ice.

“Is she dead?” I asked, praying like hell that she wasn’t. Please don’t be dead. Please…

Her eyes flung open, and she gasped.

The bundle in her arms wiggled and let out a high-pitched bark. How the heck had she held onto a freaking dog while getting hit by a car?

“Oh my gosh!” Jessa gasped.

“You’re okay,” the girl said, looking at the dog. “Thank goodness.” She stroked the dog, then sat up suddenly. “Wait, where’s my car?”

Jessa pointed to an embankment to my left. “Is one of those yours?”

“Son of a bitch!”

I’d collided with both vehicles, but the Ford SUV got most of the damage. The front end had crumpled and the windows were smashed.

“You wrecked my car!” She sat up, holding the dog, her glare ripping a hole through my chest.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Well, I don’t see any blood.” She held up a hand and wiggled her pointer and middle fingers. “Oh, ouch! I can’t move my wrist.” She held it close to her chest, her fingers directly next to the little dog’s face. “I can’t feel my fingers. They’re tingly.”

My gut clenched. A wave of jittery energy coursed through my legs, and I was pretty sure they were going to give out. The adrenaline crash was hitting hard, and the world tilted slightly. A headache bloomed at the base of my skull. It knocked, hard, too, like Wind was taking slap shots at my head.

“I’m going to call 911,” Jessa said.

Jessa helped the girl, who looked like she was about our age, to a seated position a few feet away from me. We were on the shoulder of the road, next to my Jeep, so Jessa propped her against the front passenger-side wheel. The bundle of fur wiggled in her grasp.

“This little guy needs some attention. Found him on the road.”

“Ryan, your head!” Jessa was suddenly in my face, examining me. “Let me see.”

A wave of pain swept over me, and it felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. This was not good. Not good at all. It was after midnight, which meant we were all out driving past the state-mandated curfew, and here we were, sitting on the side of the road, two banged-up cars.

Author Bio:

New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author, Lynn Rush, is a full-time writer, wife, and trail runner living in the Sonoran Desert, despite her fear of rattle snakes. Known as #TheRunningWriter, Lynn can't resist posting epic sunrise pictures while running in the desert with her trail sisters, even if she has to occasionally hop a scorpion.

When she's not running or writing, she's watching movies that fuel her everlasting love of superheroes, vampires, and all things Supernatural. The books she reads usually carry the same theme, but this former college athlete loves reading sweet sports romances as well.

She's madly in love with her Ironman husband of 20+ years who is the inspiration for what true love is. You can find her on social media as @LynnRushWrites and her website is: www.lynnrush.com

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KELLY ANNE BLOUNT is a USA Today bestselling author of young adult novels. She loves to alternate writing sweet romances, gritty thrillers, and fantasy books. She's a firm believer in balancing light with dark.

When she's not writing, she's probably lost in a book, watching Twilight, or having an adventure with her sweet family, which includes her handsome husband, their darling daughter, and their five furry loving rescues.

After living in a palace in Scotland, across from the Caribbean Sea, and in the snowy land of Wisconsin, Kelly and her family reside in beautiful Asheville, North Carolina. She draws inspiration from the places she's lived while world building in her books.

Kelly loves connecting with readers on social media! Stop by and say, "Hi!" or ask a question. You can find her everywhere @KellyAnneBlount.

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