Salaam, with Love

This heartfelt and humorous YA contemporary follows Dua, who spends the month of Ramadan making unexpected discoveries about family, faith, and first love.

"Beg beautifully crafts a comforting tale filled with fun characters and excellent Muslim representation. --Aamna Qureshi, author of The Lady or the Lion

"[A] love letter to Islam, capturing all the wonderful nuances of faith and culture."--Adiba Jaigirdar, author of Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating
*
* Being crammed into a house in Queens with her cousins is not how Dua envisions her trip to New York City. But here she is, spending the holy month of Ramadan with extended family she hasn t seen in years.

Dua struggles to find her place in the conservative household and to connect with her aloof, engaged-to-be-married cousin, Mahnoor. And as if fasting the whole day wasn t tiring enough, she must battle her hormones whenever she sees Hassan, the cute drummer in a Muslim band who has a habit of showing up at her most awkward moments.

After just a month, Dua is surprised to find that she s learning a lot more than she bargained for about her faith, relationships, her place in the world and cute drummers. . . .

Underlined is a line of totally addictive romance, thriller, and horror paperback original titles coming to you fast and furious each month. Enjoy everything you want to read the way you want to read it.

Praise for Salaam, with Love:

“Achingly sweet, Salaam, with Love is a heartfelt tale of family, faith, and love set against the backdrop of Ramadan. Beg beautifully crafts a comforting tale filled with fun characters and excellent Muslim representation.”--Aamna Qureshi, author of The Lady or the Lion

"Salaam, with Love is a beautiful and heartwarming story about family, faith, and love. It is a love letter to Islam, capturing all the wonderful nuances of faith and culture."--Adiba Jaigirdar, author of Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating *

• “Salaam, with Love parts the curtains and shows a view that to some readers will be entirely new but to others will be a glimpse of home.”--Nafiza Azad, author of The Candle and the Flame

"With her distinct voice, Beg captures the feeling of what it’s like to be different, yet learning to embrace every part of you. And having a loving family and a cute drummer by your side doesn’t hurt either. Salaam, with Love is definitely THE book to bring you warm fuzzy smiles this year."--Jenn P. Nguyen, author of Fake It Till You Break It

• "A **warm and inviting story about a girl exploring her relationship to her cultural and religious heritage."--Kirkus Reviews

Auteur

Sara Sharaf Beg

Texte du rabat

Dua struggles to find her place in her conservative family's household, but as she spends the month of Ramadan with her cousin in Queens, Dua finds herself learning more about her faith, relationships, and place in the world.

Échantillon de lecture
one

I was rocking out to the radio in my room when my mom walked in. I froze, one foot behind me, and reached up to pull my earbuds out as my mom watched me with a bemused expression.

“Dua, come into the kitchen. Your father and I have something to tell you,” she said, the Urdu words flowing like poetry from her lips. “And please stop jumping around like an electrocuted penguin,” she added, closing the door behind her.

“Electrocuted penguin,” I muttered as I put the earbuds away. Actually, I’d been called worse when it came to my dancing.

“What’s . . .” My voice trailed off as I walked into the kitchen and saw the looks on my parents’ faces. “What happened?” My heart hammered in my chest. Was this about my music again?

“We’ll explain,” Mom said gently. “Sit down, please.”

I bit my lip. If music hadn’t been on their minds, I didn’t want to bring it up and cause an argument. Instead, I asked, “Did someone die?”

Dad shook his head. “No, alhamdulillah—­all praise is due to God. You remember Uncle Yusuf and his family?”

Dad had seven brothers; keeping all their names and faces straight in my head was almost impossible unless a cup of coffee sat at the bottom of my stomach first. “Yeah, of course. His family visited Dada and Daadi in Pakistan at the same time as us five years ago.”

“Dua,” Mom said, as if I hadn’t even spoken, “as you know, Ramadan starts in a week.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, my brow furrowed as I leaned forward, waiting for her to finish. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to hear what else she had to say. “And?”

“Well, Yusuf invited us to come and stay with them for Ramadan,” Dad said, a smile breaking out on his face, his teeth startlingly white against his tanned skin. “And we’re going to take him up on it.”

For a minute, all I could do was blink at him, my mind suddenly blank. Of all the things I expected him to say, this had been nowhere on the list. Once my brain processed his words, I said, “What? Wait . . . what?”

“We are going to stay at your uncle Yusuf’s for Ramadan,” Mom repeated, slowly this time, enunciating each syllable. “Now, please, be happy; we haven’t seen them in years.”

I would’ve jumped out of my seat if I hadn’t already been in danger of falling off of it. “Exactly! I haven’t seen or even talked to Uncle Yusuf or my cousins in five years; that’s a long time. How am I supposed to connect with them? What are we going to talk about?”

“There’s so much you have in common with your cousins. Your heritage, your faith,” Dad reminded me.

I barely held in a snort. Heritage, sure. Faith? Not so much. I knew enough about Islam from what Mom and Dad had taught me growing up, from years of weekends spent at the dining table while they read from the Qur’an or books on prophetic tradition. But Uncle Yusuf and his family were on another level. My cousins grew up going to Sunday school where volunteers would teach them the Qur’an and Islamic history every week. They had Muslim friends from the moment they were born, all the way through university. Compared to them, I wasn’t a bad Muslim, but the differences in our experiences were huge. Ramadan wouldn’t be a quiet, private affair in their household the way it was in my small family.

Like Dad, Uncle Yusuf was a doctor—­pediatrics for Dad, cardiology for Uncle Yusuf. Unlike Dad, when Uncle Yusuf wasn’t seeing a patient, he was often found attending or listening to Islamic conferences and lectures. A phone call from him meant getting a free lesson on the importance of waking up on time for fajr, the morning prayer. In comparison, I preferred my parents’ occasional complaint about my lack of focus during worship.

Sure, my uncle meant well and was kind, generous, and soft-­spoken, but I could only take so much preaching before it got on my nerves. I knew enough; I didn’t need every moment to become another teaching opportunity. How would I live for a month with him and his family?

“And how do you connect with strangers?” Dad went on, oblivious to the thoughts spinning in my mind. “Just go up and talk to them, but it’s even better because they’re your family. They’ll accept you no matter what.

“You’ll be applying for college soon and Mahnoor just finished her bachelor’s. I’m sure she’d love to answer any q…