Hi, Kiersten! Welcome back! It’s been almost six(!) years since we last spoke for the release of The Camelot Betrayal. How have you been and what have you been up to?

Six years! That’s wild. I simultaneously feel like all my previous books came out a few months ago but also another lifetime ago. Since then I’ve released eleven books across middle grade, young adult, and adult categories, plus a graphic novel adaptation of my first book for adults, HIDE. I’ve also been working on the seven (?) books I have coming out between now and 2028. So, that pretty much sums it up. People sometimes ask if I have any cool hobbies. The answer is: napping.

When did you first discover your love for writing and stories?

My love of writing hit very young. I was in first grade when I decided I was going to be an author. As I grew, reading voraciously and telling myself stories became coping mechanisms for anxiety. I feel really fortunate that I’ve been able to make a career out of it, because there’s literally nothing else I want to do. (Or am good at.)

Quick lightning round! Tell us:

• The first book you ever remember reading: Richard Scarry’s What Do People Do All Day? I could have looked at those books forever.
• The one that made you want to become an author: Probably a tie between Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery and the Redwall series by Brian Jacques
• The one that you can’t stop thinking about: The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

Mister Magic: The Graphic Novel is out now! If you could only describe it in five words, what would they be?

Gorgeously eerie full color nightmare!

What can readers expect in this graphic novel adaptation?

It’s very faithful to the narrative of the novel, so whether you’ve already read Mister Magic or not, you can dive right in! The story follows the last cast of a cursed children’s program that ended in tragedy thirty years ago, reunited at a strange house in the middle of the desert to try and discover what the show actually was and why it’s haunted them all these years.

With the shift from prose to art, please expect Veronica Fish and Andy Fish to have delivered a) the most expressive, gorgeous cast, b) stunningly beautiful settings, and c) the trippiest, coolest atmosphere. It’s more creepy than disturbing, so if you’re not usually a horror reader, this is a great one to dip your toes into. I’d also recommend it if you’re not typically drawn to graphic novels. It’s very character driven and so a little more accessible if you’re still building visual literacy. (It’s a thing! If you didn’t grow up with the format, you really do have to put in some time to learn it.)

Jumping back to 2023 when Mister Magic published, where did the inspiration for the book come from?

One afternoon, my spouse mused, “What if the cast from Barney grew up and realized it had been real the whole time?” And I said, “Yes! Because their one friend who always insisted Barney was real turns up dead, with bite wounds from a creature that hasn’t existed in millions of years. Barney’s back, and he’s hungry.” And then my spouse asked why I always make things creepy, and I said he loves it, and he confirmed he does. After that I got thinking about the concept of a children’s show everyone assumed was make believe actually being real—and sinister, naturally—and it spun out from there.

Were there any moments or characters you really enjoyed seeing come to life in the graphic novel?

There’s a quiet scene between two of the main characters, Val and Isaac, where they’re standing under the nighttime desert sky. When I wrote it, it was all interior thoughts and feelings. And somehow Veronica and Andy captured everything with one wordless panel. I’m getting chills just thinking about it. I know we joke that pictures are worth a thousand words, but they really can be.

They also did a phenomenal job tapping into a 90’s aesthetic for the flashback scenes from when the show was airing. It’s so fun!

Were there any challenges with the adaptation?

Honestly, not on my end. I’m a big fan of adaptation, and of creating the best story for whatever format you’re using, so changes weren’t a big deal to me. I also only did editorial; Scott Peterson, the adaptor, is so good at his job. I really thought studying his process with HIDE: The Graphic Novel would help me learn how to write graphic novels. Instead, it convinced me I shouldn’t try because it’s such a specific, technical, challenging format. He’s incredible to work with. And then when I was reviewing the art at various stages, the biggest challenge was finding anything helpful to say other than OH MY GOD and THIS IS AMAZING and ARE YOU TWO ACTUALLY WIZARDS BECAUSE I’M PRETTY SURE THIS IS MAGIC.

We did go back and forth on the depiction of Mister Magic himself—in the book, he’s a featureless black void, but for obvious reasons he needed to be a little more visually distinctive in the graphic novel. And again, some more, I think Veronica and Andy absolutely nailed it.

The graphic novel is illustrated Veronica Fish and Andy Fish. Is there any insight into the direction for this graphic novel that you can share?

Because Mister Magic and Hide take place in the same universe—there’s even a cameo from a couple of characters in Hide, and I was so excited to literally see them again—we wanted the art to have a similar feel. Which wasn’t difficult, because we lucked out in having the exact same team. I also want to shout out Kaitlin Ketchum, our incredible editor at Ten Speed Graphic, as well as Meggie Ramm, our designer. I know it’s my story, but I feel like I can take so little credit for what an incredible graphic novel it turned out to be.

What’s next for you?

I have two more releases this year! One is a middle grade book, Hiding From the Dark: A Star Wars Horror Novel. They let me scare children with Darth Vader! Sometimes my life feels like a dream.

And then in an opposite process from Mister Magic: The Graphic Novel, I was lucky enough to write the first prose novel in the world of Something Is Killing the Children, the incredible horror comic series from James Tynion IV and Werther Dell’Edera. Something Is Killing the Children: Hope Is a Knife is out in October!

Lastly, what books are you looking forward to picking up? Any you’ve read so far this year that you’ve enjoyed?

I’m really excited for the new Stephen Graham Jones, Off the Reservation, and I just secured a copy of Katee Robert’s upcoming fantasy The Tarot Trials.

I’ve had a great reading year so far. Some standouts were Veronica Roth’s urban fantasy novellas When Among Crows and To Clutch a Razor, Lauren Groff’s short story collection Brawler, the English translation of Korean novelist Kim Bohyun’s Mothersucker, and Melissa Albert’s delicious The Children.

Will you be picking up Mister Magic: The Graphic Novel? Tell us in the comments below!

The post Q&A: Kiersten White, Author of ‘Mister Magic’ appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Sometime This Century by Samantha Silva, which releases on June 9th 2026.

Annabel Blake was born in the wrong century. An Austen-loving book nerd, she dreams of being a writer herself, with a just-penned Regency novel to prove it. Her hopes sink when her hot author crush rejects her: The novel reads like she’s never been in love. Ouch.

Annabel sees a chance to rewrite it when her ex-pat boss sends her to England to sort out her family’s “crumbling old pile” of a country house. Tempted by an invitation tucked in an antique writing desk and a “period” coachman at her door, Annabel’s whisked away to a local Regency Society ball—cue candlelight, costumes, dancing—that might be just the inspiration she needs. There’s even the achingly perfect—and wildly out of her league—Henry Leighton D’Evercy.

When Annabel’s audacious influencer sister crashes the party with her super-chill ex-boyfriend, the unlikely trio wake to find themselves trapped in the actual Regency era. No Wi-Fi, lattes, cellphones—just a world where manners, money, and marriage rule.

As Annabel falls deeply for D’Evercy, she must decide: write her perfect love story…or live it.

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The post Read An Excerpt From ‘Sometime This Century’ by Samantha Silva appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Hi, R.J.! Can you tell our readers a bit about yourself?

I can! Everyone calls me RJ, it’s not a pen name. I live in Leeds which is in the north of England along with my lovely wife, my son and our horrible cat. The building we live in is about three hundred years old and we’ve filled it with questionable taxidermy, weird art and really noisy music. I’m currently writing this from France where I am attending the Les Imaginales festival and it is incredibly hot. I may die from heat related typing fatigue.

When did you first discover your love for writing and stories?

I have no idea really. I can’t really remember not doing it or not having a book somewhere about me. Even before I was writing, when I was playing in bands (none that were successful), I was always more interested in lyrics than music. I still can’t listen to music without vocals as I think words provide some sort of really important link for me. When I gave up music becoming an author seemed like the obvious thing to do. I might not have thought that if I had looked into the odds of becoming an author. Actually, I probably would. I have never been the type of person to let reality get in the way of life.

Quick lightning round! Tell us:

• The first book you ever remember reading: Probably something by Enid Blyton. The first book I have really clear memories of was by her and called Shadow the Sheepdog. That sort of reincarnted itself in a short story called ‘The Shepherd‘ that you can probably find floating around the internet. It’s quite unpleasant, I don’t think Enid would approve.
• The one that made you want to become an author: I don’t think there was one book. Just books have always been there and as I wanted to do something creative it seemed the most obvious thing. Maybe Iain M Banks Culture books.
• The one that you can’t stop thinking about: I was really blown away by Pagans by James Alastair Henry but I think readers can only get that in the UK at the moment.  Superb book though. Blood Meridian made me think a lot.

Your latest novel, Mortedant’s Peril, is out now! If you could only describe it in five words, what would they be?

Twisty. Funny. Dark. Humane. Dickensian

What can readers expect?

Murder! And a story about people finding out they are better than they think they are. Irody, our hero, is a difficult and infuriating man but also one that is surprised to find out how much he cares about his home, the people he meets and doing what is right no matter the cost. I think it’s probably a much easier to approach book than some of my others; but it still comes with a real emotional punch.

Where did the inspiration for Mortedant’s Peril come from?

I’m never really sure where these things come from.  It feels like there’s always loads of ideas floating about and then sometimes they just coalesce into something that could be a book. To find out if it is I have to start writing it. But the ides for Mortedant’s Peril have been in my head for well over a decade, the city of Elbay, Whisper and one other character have always felt like they should be something but never quite worked until Irody Hasp turned up in my head. Somehow this irascible and often unpleasant little man had the effect of making everything else make sense.

Were there any moments or characters you really enjoyed writing or exploring?

For this book it was all of them. It feels like every character that turns up in Mortedant’s Peril could have a novel of their own. There is one character who I find particularly fun. But I’ve noticed reviewers either don’t mention them or only allude to them and I think it’s because there is such a weird sense of delight in meeting them that they don’t want to spil it for other reader. So I’m not about to do that either. If you read the book I am pretty sure there will be a moment when you know exactly who I am talking about and I hope you share in my delight.

Can you share some insight into your worldbuilding process for Mortedant’s Peril?

My worldbuilding process is always the same. I have acouple of interesting ideas and a voice for the main character and then I start writing, see where it leads. It’s been a little different for Mortedant’s Peril because, as I said, some parts of this world already existed but for the most part it has just been me having a wild time making things up. Then a slightly less wild time making it all make sense.

Did you face any challenges whilst writing? How did you overcome them?

I really enjoy writing, and I always feel like I am incredibly lucky to be doing it. Sometimes it might be hard or things might not quite work how I want but wouldn’t really describe it as challenging because I enjoy it so much. I;ve had loads of other jobs and hated them all, so there isn’t anything I would rather be doing than writing books. I suppose this biggest challenge is that I’m chronically ill, but that’s less to be overcome that it is to be put up with and you just have to try and get on with life.

What’s next for you?

I’m editing the second adventure for Irody and friends, “Mortedant’s Enigma” right now (That title isn’t set in stone). Later this year the mysterious RJ Dark releases his first crime novel, A Numbers Game which is a very British, very working class take on crime. I’ve been jokingly referring to my “Space Cats” books on social media for a while and in December the first of of three science fiction audiobook novellas, “Beasts of the Wild Black”, is released through Podium. They feature, cats, rooks and bears in mechs; which sounds kind of cutesy but it’s proper space opera that asks some big questions. But it is cats in space, and who wouldn’t want that?

Lastly, what books are you looking forward to picking up? Any you’ve read so far this year that you’ve enjoyed?

As I said, Pagans is great. The Big Empty by Robert Crais was an absolutely superb novel. Full of humanity. And I’m currently rad The Buffalo Hunter Hunter by Stephen Graham Jones and that is a wonderful, wonderful novel.

Will you be picking up Mortedant’s Peril? Tell us in the comments below!

The post Q&A: R.J. Barker, Author of ‘Mortedant’s Peril’ appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from A Botanist’s Guide to Tradition and Treachery by Kate Khavari, which is out June 9th 2026.

Saffron Everleigh is newly engaged and full of optimism as she sets off on the adventure of a lifetime for any scientist: a research expedition. She sails to newly formed Turkey with her fiancé, Alexander Ashton, and a bevy of fellow researchers under the watchful and reformed eye of Dr. Henry. With only two other women on board, Saffron soon finds she is right back in the same infuriatingly misogynistic environment that marked the earliest days of her career. Only this time, Saffron is determined to show everyone, including Alexander, that she can handle the trials of an expedition.

And trials she has in spades. Before the expedition team has even arrived, Saffron has managed to find an enemy in historian Joseph Clark, who frequently torments the assistant that Saffron has taken under her wing, Martin Neill. But when Martin unexpectedly dies, Saffron is targeted as the main suspect.

Falling ruins, venomous snakes, and mysteriously blocked passages are the least of Saffron’s worries. With unexpected help from a familiar face, Alexander and Saffron have to work fast to prove not only that Saffron is innocent but that they both have nothing to do with a larger conspiracy at play among the expedition crew.

Chapter 10

When the lunch hour came, and all the local workers rose up from the pit to perform their prayers and eat their meal, Saffron took advantage of the temporarily empty site to take a more leisurely look at the ruins. She was not alone in this idea, for several of the archaeology contingent joined her. Not to mention Martin Neill was still trailing her like a lost puppy.

It was perhaps not accurate to call it a pit, as all the crew did, she thought as she stepped carefully over discarded picks and brushes. It was more like a very rough bowl comprised of twenty-foot walls which showed the striations of its history. Dirt revealing the white roots of the faded grass sat atop a layer of irregular rocks, which preceded stones placed by human hands. Those stones formed walls, which were interrupted every five feet or so by pillars jutting out from the uniform surface. It was from these pillars that the first three arches grew, the ones rebuilt by the locals to demonstrate what the stoa would have looked like. Mr. Apak said this stoa extended all the way to the far side of the field, connecting to the basilica. Saffron could see it in her mind: dozens of these arches creating a passageway, the glaring sun striping the ground with their shadows.

The trench—but that word wouldn’t do either—extended some forty yards to the north, and several areas branched off of it. The first market stall, where her wares had been discovered, was found just next to the rough stairs constructed to allow entry into the pit. Half-way down the length of the pit, they’d uncovered something the archaeologists decided was a stair, suggesting the location of one of the cisterns Clark and Apak had mentioned. From the talk about her, that was of some interest. But she moved on from it, as she didn’t particularly want to spend her lunch hour peering down at a single rectangular piece of stone in the midst of hard-packed dirt.

She left the cluster of archaeologists—which luckily did not include Clark—and wandered to the far end of the pit, where the most work was happening to dig out the second market stall. Martin dawdled near the archaeologists’ mysterious step, and when she glanced at him, he looked away quickly as if embarrassed. He’d done that most of the morning, looking anxious to be helpful yet equally anxious whenever she spoke to him.

Sighing, she idly examined the tools laid down randomly in the dirt and the section of wall they’d been digging into. At the bottom, a stone was lodged in the compacted earth, surely one of the stones that made up a fallen arch, given the perfection of its angled edge.

After a while, she gave up on trying to make out anything from the dirt. The others must have decided it was time to down a quick meal before work resumed, for the pit was now silent and empty save for her and Martin. They ought to go eat, too.

“Don’t touch the wall,” she murmured when Martin pressed himself up against the wall to let her pass.

“Oh!” He leaped away into the wall nearly into her and caused her to knock against a toolbox, which clanged loudly as a pick fell from where it rested on the edge into the metal basin.

Grimacing, she planted a hand on the wall to keep from falling. “Don’t touch that,” snapped a voice.

Martin’s rounded eyes met hers. “Oh no, I am sorry—”

“It’s fine,” Saffron muttered, straightening up to see Clark watching her from the entrance to the first stall. “I wasn’t touching the wall intentionally, Mr. Clark.”

“Intentionally or not,” he said loudly, “you might destroy something important, just as I feared.” He stepped away from the stall toward the steps. “I hesitate to tell you, since you plainly don’t know how to handle yourself at an archaeological site, but I’ve found something that you might find interesting in one of the little nooks carved into the walls inside there.”

Despite herself, Saffron perked up. “What is it? Will you show me?”

“Oh no, not now. I’ve worked up quite an appetite,” he drawled, already walking up the steps. “Some of us have actually done work today, you know.”

She ground her teeth together to prevent herself from retort-ing. She had done work this morning. She’d made preliminary sketches of the stall, the pit, and the vessels they were to open that afternoon, which he would have known, had he not wandered off an hour after they’d settled into work. She’d seen him hanging around in the shade of a tent when she’d been standing in the sun to make her sketches.

Clark had disappeared. She looked longingly into the stall. Though the mostly underground state made her skin crawl, she was eager to see what it was Clark had found.

A loud grumble interrupted her thoughts. She turned to Martin, who looked like he wished he could sink right down into the dirt.

“I-I beg your pardon,” he stammered, pressing a hand to his stomach.

“It’s all right,” she said quickly, “I’m hungry, too. Let’s go to the tent to eat.”

“But . . .” He looked at the stall guiltily. “Shouldn’t we see what Mr. Clark found?”

Would it be better or worse to look at it now? If she did, Clark would likely say she’d damaged whatever it was. This might be a ploy to get her to inadvertently break some artifact. But what good would that do Clark? He’d benefit far more from intact pieces, not broken ones, even if it would damage her reputation.

On the other hand, Clark would probably proclaim her a cow-ard, or say by not looking at whatever he’d found without him meant she didn’t believe in her own abilities.

She didn’t know what would be worse. But between herself and Martin, she was sure she could manage not to ruin it.

She grinned at Martin. “Let’s take a quick look. Light that lamp?”

Martin snatched up the lamp sitting on the last stair, fumbled for matches from his pocket, and lit it. She allowed him to go into the stall first, and certainly not because stepping into the dim space gave her the shivers. She refused to be frightened. They were not even properly underground, she told herself.

Within sat several large carved stones, set aside and numbered with chalk, likely for later reconstruction. The walls were packed dirt, the ceiling reinforced with wood beams. This room had been the first they’d uncovered, and so many feet had passed through, the floor was quite even.

It was that reason that, as Saffron looked around at the walls, she realized Clark couldn’t have actually discovered anything new within. Dozens of people had already examined this room.

“We might as well go up to the tent,” she said sullenly. “Oh, but look,” Martin said, pointing to the wall.

There were a number of nooks, almost like shelves of stone built into the walls. Some were smooth, while others had looser stones. Martin was pointing to one that looked especially loose.

Saffron stepped forward and tugged on it. It gave, sliding out.

Excitedly, she grinned at Martin. “Do you think this is it?”

“I don’t know,” he said, peering at the stone. “It looks ordi-nary, doesn’t it?”

“Lift the lamp,” Saffron said. “Maybe Clark meant it was behind the stone?”

Martin did, and she leaned closer to the hole the stone had left behind.

Something gleamed gold in the lamp’s light. Saffron’s breath caught. Carefully, she put her hand into the hole to take the trea-sure out. Her fingers touched something cool and textured.

She jerked her hand away with a strangled yelp.

It was not a treasure. It was a snake. And it was not pleased to be disturbed.

“Mr. Ashton!”

Alexander looked around for the source of his name and saw only the crew digging into the simple but delicious fare Mr. Assam had promised the crew for lunch. The rice, fish, and roasted vege-tables could not have been more welcome after the morning on-site, though he heard a number of grumbles about eating sitting on rugs spread over the ground.

A ripple of interest went through the assembly as Martin Neill came dashing into the shade of the mess tent, looking a little wild.

“Neill?” Alexander hailed him, and the boy scrambled over to him, nearly tripping over Kent to get to him.

“Mr. Ashton, where is Mr. Dunmore?” Martin asked, dark eyes shifting over the crew. “I need him to come down to the first stall right away.”

Alexander swallowed a sigh. “You don’t have to report every reptile you spot to him.”

“It’s not that—it’s a viper!”

That got the attention of the dozen or so crew members sitting on the ground around them.

“What? A viper?” “Where?”

“Someone grab a shovel—”

Annoyed the assistant had stirred up a building uproar, Alex-ander put a hand on Neill’s shoulder and pushed him from the tent. “What’s going on?”

“It’s a viper, sir,” he panted. Sweat trickled from his brow. “It’s down in the stall. Miss Everleigh sent me for Mr. Dunmore—”

“What?” Alexander snapped.

Neill flinched at his harsh tone. His voice dwindled as he spoke. “S-she sent me for Mr. Dunmore, because he’d know how to catch it . . .”

Struggling for patience, he asked, “And where is Miss Everleigh?”

“In the stall,” Neill whispered.

“Find Dunmore.” And then he was jogging to the pit and down the steps.

He found her in the stall, lit by a lamp she held up and away from her body at an odd angle.

Her look of expectation fell to dismay when he entered. “Mar-tin couldn’t find Dunmore?”

“He said there’s a viper down here,” Alexander said, coming to a stop as he remembered if there was a viper, he ought to pay attention to where he was walking.

“Well, yes,” she said, “that’s why we need Dunmore. Anyone else would likely just kill the snake. But Dunmore should see to it, to make sure no one gets hurt. Including the snake.”

“If there is a viper,” he ground out, “why are you still in this room?”

“Someone had to make sure it didn’t slither away and hide in some crack, only to bite someone later.” She said it like it was obvious.

“Where is it?”

She wiggled the lamp, which she was now supporting with two hands. “It’s in an alcove behind the lamp. Martin suggested we could use it to block it from getting away.”

Alexander decided not to say something like Why isn’t Martin Neill holding the lamp, then? and instead came forward to take the lamp from her, not moving it from where it hung in the air.

Saffron sighed with relief as her arms dropped to her sides. “Thank you.”

Footsteps thundered down the steps of the pit, and a moment later, Dunmore rushed into the room followed by two locals armed with shovels and a bucket.

Dunmore came forward, his round face bright with excitement and his hands clutching a metal rod with a hook at the end. “What have we here, then? Neill said we’ve got a viper! I didn’t expect to find one here in the agora!”

The assistant chose that moment to careen into the room with a specimen cage.

“Ah, good!” Dunmore waved the hook at Alexander. “Step aside, then, Ashton, and let’s see this little beauty!”

The Turks set down the bucket and raised their shovels. Dun-more glared at them. “None of that, now. Put those down.”

The Turks looked at each other. Dunmore looked at Alexander. “Tell them to put the shovels down. I don’t want them harming my specimen.”

“It isn’t a bad idea to be prepared in case—”

Dunmore’s mouth fell open. “No one is going to be hitting any of my specimens with a shovel!”

Neill looked between Alexander and Dunmore before saying brightly, “I’ll get Mr. Banks.” He dashed back out of the room.

Dunmore turned back to the Turks. Loudly, he said, “Put the shovels down!”

Next to Alexander, Saffron sighed. “I really didn’t mean for this to turn into a circus.”

But the sound of more feet coming down the steps told Alexander the real circus was about to begin. Neill had apparently summoned not only Banks to translate, but also Dr. Henry and Mr. Hayrettin. They packed into the tiny stall, pressing Saffron into his side.

“What’s all this about?” asked Dr. Henry. “There’s a snake,” Alexander said.

“A viper!” Martin added.

“Tell these men they will not be harming the snake,” Dun-more told Banks.

Banks, who looked on the verge of laughter despite the fact he was tucked up against the wall, his head nearly brushing the ceil-ing, spoke to the Turks.

This led to an argument that lasted all of one minute, involving the two locals, Banks, and Hayrettin, who tried to gesticulate but couldn’t, being pressed between the locals and Banks. Martin Neill was saying something to Saffron, and Dunmore was trying to speak over everyone about the potential importance of an urban specimen of viper. Meanwhile, Alexander’s arm was starting to burn from holding the lamp up.

The last straw was when Clark appeared in the door, and with a barely concealed grin, asked, “May I be of some assistance?”

“Everyone out,” Alexander called, silencing the argument. “Except Dunmore. Neill, give me that specimen cage.”

To his relief, everyone filed out of the stall. Saffron gave him a sympathetic look from the open door, where she crowded around with the rest of the group.

Eagerly, Dunmore came forward, hook at the ready. Alexander slowly removed the lamp from before the gap in the wall, and Dunmore stepped forward to fish the snake out.

Alexander held his breath as the creature was extracted. It was small, but a small viper could still hurt someone badly.

But something was strange about the twisting body of the snake. It looked as if the bottom two-thirds of its body had been dipped in paint.

Dunmore scowled, swinging around to the door. “You said this was a viper!”

Saffron blinked. “I—”

“This is Platyceps najadum.” He lifted his hook where the snake writhed. “A whip snake!”

“Is it dangerous?” Alexander asked, wary of how insecure the animal looked, dangling from the hook.

“They do produce venom, but this species never developed fangs—” Dunmore squinted at the snake. “This—this is the same bloody one I caught earlier today! Neill! What the devil have you been doing with my specimens!”

Alexander couldn’t see past the group to Martin Neill, but he imagined the boy looked aghast. The rest of the group grumbled as they dispersed, apparently dissatisfied there wasn’t actually any dangerous animal at hand.

“Put it in here,” Alexander told Dunmore, and once the crea-ture was settled into the cage, Alexander was able to get a better look at it. Its head and the first few inches of its body were light brown, with darker spots on its sides. The rest of the body was a ruddy tan, uninterrupted by pattern. For anyone glancing into a dark cranny in the stone wall, it would appear to be a different kind of snake.

Dunmore took the specimen cage and muttered about wasting his time and mishandling his specimens. Just outside the stall, Clark was speaking to Martin Neill, who was looking at the ground, clearly crestfallen. Saffron stood several feet away, looking thoughtfully at them.

“Chin up, lad,” Clark was saying to Neill. “Not your fault the girl doesn’t know a viper from a harmless little worm.”

“But I—”

“He’s right,” Saffron interrupted. “I didn’t realize the snake wasn’t a viper. I’m happy to be wrong, in this case.”

Clark betrayed surprise for a half second before giving her a condescending smile. “Don’t worry, Miss Everleigh. You’ll soon learn very little we will encounter on this expedition will be cause for putting up such a fuss. You don’t want to be interrupting the entire crew every time a little snake crosses your path. People will think you’re not up for field work.”

“Of course,” Saffron said. “I do wish you would have warned us about the snake before you sent me into the stall. You were coming out of it just before we went inside. You must have seen it, since you recommended we examine the walls’ alcoves.” She tapped a finger to her chin. “But perhaps you’d forgotten that was where you’d seen the snake, considering I saw you standing outside the tent with Dunmore’s specimens earlier.”

Alexander glared at Clark.

“That sounds like you’re trying to make an accusation,” Clark said with the hint of a smile.

“I’m not trying to make an accusation—”

“You have no sense of humor.” He shook his head. “I can’t help it if you lost your head over a harmless little snake. You even had Neill with you.”

Saffron’s mouth hung open. “It is venomous—”

“It doesn’t have fangs,” Clark said, enunciating each word. “Surely you heard Dunmore say that just now.”

“That doesn’t mean someone couldn’t be harmed by it.”

Clark waved a hand lazily. “No one was harmed. It’s a bit of fun.”

Alexander cut in before either of them could provoke the other more. “Clark, you shouldn’t have taken one of Dunmore’s speci-mens, even a nonlethal one, especially not for a joke. We are here to do work.”

Clark glanced meaningfully between Alexander and Saffron. “Right. Work.” He laughed softly as he strode past them to the stairs. “I’ll be sure to remind you both of that, should you forget.”

He disappeared over the top, still chuckling.

Saffron’s face was red, and not just from the heat of midday. Fists clenched, she stomped up the steps after Clark. Was she angry at just Clark, or Alexander, too, for how poorly he’d handled that? He pushed his hair back, frustration churning in his chest. The only way it could have gone worse was if the snake actually had been a viper.

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘A Botanist’s Guide to Tradition and Treachery’ by Kate Khavari appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from The Break-Up Retreat by Camilla Sten, which releases on June 9th 2026.

Welcome to Himlafall Clinic, where we use revolutionary therapy techniques to heal you from heartbreak. Whether you are going through a devastating breakup, or can’t seem to stop picking the wrong partners, we are here to help you change your life, once and for all…

Isobel Anderssen has heard rumors. Nestled deep in the Swedish woods, there is a retreat. Primarily aimed at helping women who have gone through devastating break-ups, the Himlafall Clinic is meant to heal your mind and help you move on.

Sometimes people are never heard from again.

Armed with a fake story and a contraband phone to record interviews, Isobel is ready to expose Himlafall’s founder and get closure for the families of missing loved ones. But when she gets there, nothing goes to plan. Her contact is missing. The founder, Dr. Martina Hastings, knows how to get under Isobel’s skin in ways she didn’t anticipate. And all the while, the ghosts of the missing haunt her at every turn. It is clear something is going wrong and Himlafall, and Isobel must uncover the truth, before she disappears once and for all.

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Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Her Sharp Embrace by Kate Koenig, which releases on June 9th 2026.

In the glittering city of New Soleil, beauty masks danger at every turn. The Nightshades, a crew of magical outlaws, are no different. Their glamorous facades conceal the terror they strike into the hearts of the rich and powerful as they steal from the corrupt and fight for the forgotten.

Noa Toussaint fled her cossetted life as a Saint to join the Nightshades. Infatuated with their ferocious leader, Lennon, Noa aims to capture her heart and keep it. Her talent for alchemy is valuable, but her connection to her family puts all of the Shades in danger.

Now enemies are closer than Lennon knows and Noa must uncover the threat and keep them both alive. Because in a city where lies are lethal and magic is fading, secrets aren’t just costly―they’re deadly.

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Warning: If you haven’t read book one, Tourist Season, take the exit now and check it out—spoilers lie ahead. If you’ve been anxiously awaiting the next book in the series, though, pop in your headphones, turn on the brilliant chapter-by-chapter playlist at the beginning of the book, and dive right in.

Unlike The Ruinous Love trilogy, Seasons of Carnage follows the same male and female main characters for all three books. In Tourist Season, readers met Nolan Rhodes, the handsome killer who traveled to Cape Carnage with one mission: avenge his brother’s death by getting rid of Harper Starling. Except Harper wasn’t at all what he expected. She came with her own baggage (read: trail of bodies), roped Nolan into helping her protect the town, and his master plan was completely derailed as he found himself falling for the woman he originally intended to kill.

Now that Nolan knows who Harper really is, things get even messier in Harvest Season. Harper is trying to balance the responsibility of caring for Arthur, her aging serial killer mentor, with what she wants for herself—the first thing she’s wanted in a very long time: Nolan. As the body count rises around them, and a group of true crime nerds come searching for their missing leader (who is part of said body count), the big question is this: Will Harper and Nolan’s love save them or will their blinding obsession ultimately bring about their downfall?

Obviously, you’ll have to read to find out.

Let me just say this for fans of book boyfriends everywhere, though. Nolan is the definition of “if he wanted to, he would.” Not only does he do a complete 180 from wanting to kill Harper to falling madly in love with her. He abandons his job to stay in Cape Carnage and explore this budding relationship, while also running a search and rescue operation for their collective victims in order to make sure they both don’t get caught. And then there’s all the hot, hot sex they have during their non-existent downtime. When does the man sleep?!

As always with this genre, and per the author’s recommendation, it’s a good idea to check out trigger warnings first before jumping in.  The juxtaposition of horror and dark themes with pleasure is a unique combination that’s not for everyone. Weaver has a list of everything readers need to know at the start of the novel, covering all the bases with what violent and explicit material lies ahead.

You’ll also find a good heart at the core of this story, though. Beyond the devotion and trust-building in the novel’s romantic relationship, Harper’s relationship with her father figure, Arthur, is also a driving storyline. Weaver even notes in her content warnings that a portion of the royalties from the Seasons of Carnage trilogy goes to Alzheimer’s charities in the U.S. and Canada—a cause near and dear to the author, as her maternal grandparents’ experiences with dementia inspired this part of the story.

The only drawback of Harvest Season for me is that it feels a bit drawn out. Trilogies are a popular trend these days in the romance and romantasy genres, so perhaps there’s a push to flush out stories into three installments. At times the dynamics of Harper and Nolan’s relationship seem repetitive, and perhaps the length of the novel could have been shortened.

Despite this, Brynne Weaver knows how to write a fun book to read and her particular brand of dark romance works. There’s angst. There’s plenty of steamy scenes. There’s blood. And there’s some weird, weird stuff. (Like everyone’s favorite “pretty little murder bird”). In the end, Harvest Season ramps up into a hell of a cliffhanger, and these characters are fantastic, so you better believe I’ll be back for book three to find out how Harper and Nolan’s story ends.

Harvest Season is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop.org, and other good book retailers, like your local bookstore, as of June 9th 2026.

Will you be picking up Harvest Season? Tell us in the comments below!

Synopsis

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author Brynne Weaver comes the second book in the devilishly steamy Seasons of Carnage trilogy where dark romantic comedy meets thrilling suspense—and where love is ripe for ruin.

It’s time to reap what you sow.

Cape Carnage is blooming with secrets, and they’re ready to harvest. But every time Nolan Rhodes digs one up, another grows in its place. Harper isn’t who he thought she was. Arthur might be more sinister than he first thought. And Sheriff Yates? The man is everywhere he turns. When true crime fanatics descend on the town looking for answers about the death of their leader, Nolan finds himself at the center of a search and rescue operation for missing people he knows are already dead. Cape Carnage teeters on the brink of chaos. And the harder Nolan tries to keep it together, the closer Harper comes to unraveling.

Harper Starling has risked everything to bury her trauma in Cape Carnage. But now that Nolan has unearthed her past, her whole life seems ready to break apart. And who can she trust? The enigmatic man she’s falling in love with? He came to kill her. The serial killer mentor she’s vowed to protect? He’s become an unpredictable menace. The woman in the mirror? She might be the most dangerous of all.

Loyalties are tested. Bonds are bent to a breaking point. And love? That might be the deadliest trap of all.

Harvest Season is a dark romance with mature themes. Please check content warnings at the beginning of the book.

The post Review: Harvest Season by Brynne Weaver appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Beneath Still Waters by Linny Mack, which releases on June 9th 2026.

Emery Caldwell needs a change.

After seven years teaching marine biology, having grant after grant denied, and growing tired of her mediocre relationship, she’s burnt out. When a sabbatical offers the chance to reset, Emery heads south to the quiet fishing village of Tidehaven, South Carolina, hoping to gather research for a new journal article—and maybe find the direction her life desperately needs.

Reid Morgan has fought hard for peace.

After leaving the Navy SEALs behind, he’s built a quiet life working at the Driftwood Marina, where the days are predictable, and the past feels farther away. The last thing he wants is trouble, or the curious, determined scientist who stirs up things better left buried.

But when Emery witnesses something she shouldn’t in the fog-thick marshes, suddenly both of their lives are in danger. As a deadly threat stalks Emery, Reid steps in to protect her—but getting close means letting her break down all the barriers he’s worked so hard to build.

As danger grows, so does their unexpected connection. But facing the truth—and each other—may be the biggest risk of all.

EXCERPT

Six Months Earlier

Reid

Sleep never stays for long.

By the time the sky lightens to that thin, gray veil, I’m already up. The cabin is nothing but quiet behind me, with the kind of silence that presses instead of soothes. The trail beyond my back door feels like the only place where my thoughts slow enough to catch my breath.

I walk most mornings like this—early…before the coast wakes and the town stirs. Before questions and conversations and the low hum of other people’s lives disrupt my peace. The marsh is still at this hour, the air cool and damp, the world holding its breath.

It’s usually the only time of day I feel even.

I’m halfway down the narrow trail that cuts behind Blackbird Cottage when I hear the sirens. They rip through the quiet, close enough that my shoulders jerk and my breath catches. They are loud, which means they must be close. Something isn’t right. They don’t usually come this far back. My body reacts before my brain does. My pulse kicks up, my muscles coiling tight, like an old reflex I’d learned to ignore.

The lights come into view through the trees—blue and red bleeding into the gray dawn—and I know, with a certainty I don’t question, that something is very wrong.

My feet stop for half a second.

Dr. Penelope Young’s face flashes in my mind.

Then I’m moving again. The pull is immediate and unmistakable. The way you hurry without realizing you’ve started, heart already ahead of your body.

The cottage sits far off the road, nestled between the forest and the marsh. Used by Coastal Carolina University to house research faculty, not many people know it’s here. I do because just through the short trail beyond it, my cabin sits in peaceful solitude.

As I break through the tree line, the driveway is already crowded. Patrol cars line the dirt road. An ambulance is pulled all the way up to the porch, its red lights reflecting on the cottage’s white siding. Unmarked SUVs are parked with casual authority, like they’ve been here before. The air smells of salt and damp earth, threaded with the tight, contained tension of those standing around, who probably know more than they’ll let on.

I slow only when I see my friend Colt.

He’s in uniform near the porch, posture locked tight, jaw set the way it gets when he’s carrying something heavy and refusing to let it show. When his eyes find mine, the look that crosses his face isn’t surprise.

It’s warning.

He steps toward me quickly. “Reid. You shouldn’t be here.”

“What the hell is going on?” I bark, looking past him.

The front door stands open, light spilling across the porch in a harsh wash. I’ve walked up those steps more times than I can count. Sat at her table and listened while she paced, talking through funding battles and research setbacks and council meetings that went nowhere because certain men preferred things the way they were. We’d had an unlikely friendship, rooted in a shared love of the marsh and the solitude it offered.

“Where’s Penny?” I demand.

Colt sighs, raking a hand through his hair. His eyes meet mine briefly before he looks away, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“She was due at the university for a meeting last night. She didn’t show.” Colt drags a hand over his face.

“That’s not like her.”

“Right. Her supervisor got worried,” Colt agrees. “He came over here, banged on her door. When she didn’t answer, he called us.”

Before he can say more, the EMTs appear in the doorway.

They move carefully, guiding a stretcher between them. The sheet is pulled high, but the shape beneath it is unmistakable. Smaller than the woman I knew. Quieter somehow. Reduced to something that doesn’t argue or laugh or demand better.

Something fractures in my chest.

“She’s gone,” Colt says quietly.

I swallow the tightness in my throat, but my voice comes out like a whisper anyway. “What happened?”

Colt’s jaw tightens, just barely. “Apparent suicide.”

The words feel wrong the instant he says them. No. She was loud, unapologetic, and impossible to intimidate. This feels like a conclusion reached before any questions have been asked.

My gaze drifts back to the cottage.

The last time I saw her, she’d waved off my concern with a crooked smile.

They don’t love me working in what they’ve already claimed, she’d said. Especially when I keep standing between them and the money.

She’d said it lightly enough that I could brush it off. If she wasn’t concerned, then I wouldn’t be either. I’d told myself it was politics. Money. The same small-town power games Tidehaven has always played. I hadn’t wanted to believe it was more than that.

Standing here now, with too many lights and too many strangers already claiming the space, that explanation feels thin.

I scan the scene before me and notice the one thing that doesn’t fit.

Plain clothed officers walking around my friend’s space with a presence that doesn’t need to announce itself. One of them glances my way, his eyes darting between me and Colt, before dismissing me as insignificant.

“Who is that?” I ask Colt, keeping my voice low.

He exhales, slow and deliberate. “Feds.” He looks like he wants to say more but doesn’t.

Something heavy settles low in my gut. Feds don’t show up for an accident or a suicide. They don’t show up when everyone agrees on answers.

Before I can push Colt further, one of the agents steps onto the porch, phone pressed to his ear. As he passes, he gives Colt a brief nod. “We’ll handle it from here.”

Not we’ll assist. Not we’ll coordinate.

Handle.

The ambulance doors close with a dull, final thud, and the sound echoes longer than it should. I feel the familiar urge rise—the need to push, to demand, to tear into whatever box someone’s just tried to seal shut. That’s my friend in there. And I want to know what the fuck happened to her.

Experience has taught me what pushing costs though. I’ve been wrong before. And I’ve seen what happens when you move too fast. When you act on instinct without proof. When people get hurt because you were wrong.

Colt finally looks at me with something in his eyes that mirrors my own restraint, stretched thin by duty and rules.

“You should go,” he says quietly. “I’ll come by later.”

I nod, even though every part of me resists turning away. As I step back toward the trail, Blackbird Cottage looms behind me, silent now, its secrets already being absorbed into something larger and far less visible.

I know, with a certainty that settles deep in my bones, that whatever’s happening here didn’t begin today.

And that in Tidehaven, the most dangerous things don’t announce themselves.

They wait.

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘Beneath Still Waters’ by Linny Mack appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Hi, Rachel! Can you tell our readers a bit about yourself?

Hi! I live in South Louisiana with my husband, amazing daughter, three dogs, and two cats. In true Southern fashion, I love sports of all kinds. My preferred night out is at a hockey, football, or hockey game. I live for a beach trip, where I can sit and read without any responsibilities for hours on end, and dread winter with all of my soul.

When did you first discover your love for writing and stories?

As a moody teenager, I loved writing dramatic romance scenes between angsty teens. First kisses and breakups and all the tension that comes with young love. It provided me with the escapism I needed at that time. It wasn’t until I had my daughter at twenty-one that I decided to sit down to write my first full-length novel.

Quick lightning round! Tell us:

• The first book you ever remember reading: Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss
• The one that made you want to become an author: Cross My Heart by Katie Klein
• The one that you can’t stop thinking about: On The Island by Tracy Garvis-Graves

Light Wielder is the sequel to Metal Slinger and it’s out now! If you could only describe it in five words, what would they be?

Tension, action, spicy, political, and satisfying.

For those who haven’t picked up Metal Slinger, what can readers expect?

It’s a journey. Full of action, adventure, and plenty of forced-proximity from our love interests. And, not to fail to mention, a shocking twist.

And for those who have, what’s to come in Light Wielder?

A lot of political maneuverings and heartache, but with another journey filled with healing and grace. It’s high stakes, in love and war.

Were there any moments or characters you really enjoyed writing or exploring further?

Messer will always be a special character for me to write, but I particularly loved chapters 23 & 24.

Did you face any challenges whilst writing? How did you overcome them?

Many. There was a lot of pressure going into Light Wielder. I’ve seen so many theories and reader’s hopes of what was to come in book two, and it was definitely a challenge to mentally block out any of those notions while writing. It was so important to me that I stick to what I wanted for these characters and their journey, as well as what feeds my soul as the storyteller. At the end of the day, I wanted to write something super satisfying, so I focused on that.

Any teasers you care to share for the Fire & Metal series?

I live for the unexpected.

What’s next for you?

I’m nearly done with book three, so I’m stoked about that. But I’m also excited to start a new world with new characters. I’m ready for a dive into the unknown.

Lastly, what books are you looking forward to picking up? Any you’ve read so far this year that you’ve enjoyed?

I picked up Dungeon Crawler Carl before I began book three, so I’m eager to dive back in and finish it. I need Princess Donut in my life again.

Will you be picking up Light Wielder? Tell us in the comments below!

The post Q&A: Rachel Schneider, Author of ‘Light Wielder’ appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Tentacles & Triathlons by Ashley Bennett, which releases on June 9th 2026.

There is only one thing holding back Briar Glenn Parks Department supervisor Reece Rollins from success in his upcoming triathlon—his subpar swimming skills. At the urging of his sister’s wolven mate, Reece joins Leviathan Fitness to train in the gym’s Olympic-size pool. There he meets Cyrus, a charming kraken with unparalleled skill in the pool, and many, many tentacles that both intimidate and intrigue Reece. When Cyrus offers to coach Reece for his race, he happily accepts the help.

For the past few months, Cyrus has been floating through life without his usual spark. He’s even hit a creative block with his painting and hasn’t been able to produce a new piece of artwork in a while. But the opportunity to train this handsome human grump gives Cyrus something real to smile about.

New and unexpected feelings begin to arise from the depths as Reece and Cyrus start to spend time together in and out of the water. But can both men let down their guards enough to be swept away by love?

EXCERPT

The beanbag flew out of my webbed hand and careened toward a cornhole board emblazoned with the Leviathan Fitness logo. With a loud thud, the neon green bag dropped into the hole, giving me another three points.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Fallon groaned from the other end of the yard where the cornhole boards were set up. “When you said you’d never played before, I didn’t expect you to be this good.”

I blinked my wide eyes, giving the griffin an innocent smile. Although I’d never played, my kind took to new games easily. You’d think Fallon would know this after fourteen years of friend-ship. There was a reason I wasn’t allowed to join in on game night. “Hmm, maybe it’s the tentacles or something,” I said with a shrug. My grin widened as one of the thick tendrils in question uncoiled from where it was wrapped around my forearm and gave Fallon a playful wave.

He shook his head and trotted over to me. “I’ve had enough getting my ass kicked for one day. Let’s grab a drink and mingle.”

Initially, I’d been hesitant to attend the party, but Atlas and Fallon were both adamant that I should be present.

I knew my appearance could be unsettling to humans, and I hated the thought of any of Atlas and Tegan’s guests feeling un-comfortable. It wasn’t every day that you saw an ancient blue-green sea creature shuffling around on six tentacles. I resembled something you’d see in a Guillermo del Toro film, not a guest at a backyard barbecue.

Fallon led the way to the cooler and I scuttled close behind him, my tentacles rolling and writhing over the grass to propel me along.

“Water for you, Cy?” he asked, digging through the cooler with his scaled talons.

“Please,” I said, scanning the crowd around us. It was a mix of humans and monsters, locals and small business owners engaging in companionable conversation.

Fallon used his talon to pop the cap off his beer, and just as he was about to speak, Atlas called out to us.

“Hey, guys. Come here for a second. I want you to meet some-one.” The wolven shifted his giant body, and that’s when I caught my first glimpse of him.

The rays from the sun caught his hair, illuminating the light red strands in a fiery blaze of color. His face was handsome—chiseled and masculine—with a thick mustache above his lip and a beard covering his jaw. A light dusting of freckles coated the bridge of his nose and cheeks. Forest green eyes accented with tiny flecks of gold assessed me, watching my every move as Fallon and I neared the small group.

“This is Tegan’s brother, Reece,” Atlas said, his body swaying slightly. “He’s the head of the Parks Department here in Briar Glenn.”

I’d heard all about Tegan’s brother from Atlas. His bravado and alpha male posturing when it came to his sister’s relationship. What Atlas didn’t tell me was how ridiculously hot he was.

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