Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Some Kind of Haunted by Hazel Beck, which releases on August 25th 2026.

Home is where the haunt is.

Lexi Darling has always been a city girl through and through. New York is loud, crowded, and just chaotic enough to keep her mind off everything she’d rather not think about—especially the eerily realistic nightmares that have plagued her all her life. So when she and her twin brother, Logan, are summoned to the postcard-perfect town of Midas, Iowa, one golden October to handle an inheritance from the grandmother they never knew, Lexi figures it’ll be a quick detour: sign a few papers, snap a fall foliage selfie, and catch the next flight home.

But Midas has other plans.

The town has been waiting for the Darling twins, and it’s not about to let them leave. Their arrival stirs up a centuries-old curse, one that promises something dark and hungry will rise again by Halloween night. And the key to stopping it might just lie in their family’s mysterious past. Now, trapped in Midas with the shadows closing in, Lexi has to team up with a group of stubborn locals to save the town…including Jack, the grumpy-but-unfairly attractive diner owner who drives her crazy in all the wrong ways.

As the nights grow longer and an uncanny evil creeps closer, Lexi must uncover the truth behind the curse before Midas—and everyone in it—is consumed. Because in Midas, some secrets refuse to stay buried—and some nightmares never end.

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The post Read An Excerpt From ‘Some Kind of Haunted’ by Hazel Beck appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Hazel Beck’s Dragon Fires Everywhere, which releases on September 23rd 2025.

Newly-minted Historian of the soon-to-be-ascended Riverwood Coven Georgie Pendell has always played her part—so why does she feel like an outsider in her own life? Duped and dumped by her boyfriend, Georgie finds herself dismissing love as a fairytale. But when the words she reads aloud from an enchanted storybook free a dragon shifter, everything changes.

Georgie finds herself drawn to the dragon in ways she didn’t think were even possible for her, and her dragon, with his fiery golden gaze, all but claims Georgie as his own. But beneath his scorching intensity lies a secret, one that stretches back into the ancient past.

With the Joywood Coven still finding ways to upend the new order of the witching world, Georgie and her coven will need to prove themselves up to the task of being in charge, and right the wrongs their predecessors committed—if they can uncover the truth. Because something is missing. Something that will stop the Joywood once and for all. Something that only a Historian and an ancient dragon can find.

The number of crows everywhere would be a little bit alarming—since there are far more than a mere murder, in every tree, strutting in the roads, wheeling lazily in the late November sky above all the shops—if I wasn’t so close to home.

And so happy to be back on the pretty bricks of St. Cyprian. It feels like I’ve been away longer than I have. I’ve spent the weeks since Samhain traveling around the world, gathering the magical keys to the Witchlore archives that poor, deceased Happy Ambrose (spoiler alert: he was never all that happy) left littered about.

The Joywood—the ruling coven we basically dethroned, who would like to make our ascension into rulers as difficult and challenging as possible—claimed it was a mistake. An accident caused by poor Happy’s unfortunate fate at Samhain.

Because otherwise, he totally would have gathered the keys himself and handed them over to me once the Joywood well and truly lost the ascension trials in October. Sure.

I liked traveling, I won’t lie. But I missed home. I missed my friends and coven. And as much as I’m primed and ready to be Georgie Pendell, Historian of the Riverwood Coven, it still feels a bit like a costume I’m wearing. A little too special for the likes of me.

It’ll feel real once we fully take over at Yule. I’m almost sure of it.

I could have transported myself anywhere from my last stop in Merry Olde England when it was time to come back home, but I came to Main Street first. I wanted to take a moment to fully bask in this town I’ve always loved, no matter how difficult the last year has been.

After weeks of not hard, but tedious, work put in place by the pettiest witches I know, I wanted to remind myself why, exactly, we all fought so hard to save this place from the evil coven that came before us.

The evil coven that had no intention of stepping down until we forced the issue.

I wanted exactly what I do now—to walk down the street that I would know if I was blind, with all the magical bricks and historic houses that are now shops and restaurants that draw in witches and humans alike.

St. Cyprian has been the center of the witching world since witches decided that Salem was the last witch hunt they planned to live through and came here, to a then-frontier town at the magical intersection of three mighty rivers—only two of which are visible to human eyes—to build a safe place where magical folks could hide in plain sight, safe from the burning torches and Puritan fantasies that had come for too many of our forebears.

And speaking of those Puritans, it’s Thanksgiving. A holiday with its own questionable roots, but still the one I love best as it plays no favorites. No rituals, no gifts. Just food and the people you love.

I miss my people. My best friends, who are like family to me because my family of origin is complicated—whose isn’t—and who are now the coven known as the Riverwood. The new ruling coven. And everyone is aware of that, I think, as people on the street catch my eye and nod or smile greetings in a way they definitely didn’t do before we went through the ascension trials and were officially voted in.

Clearly things have shifted here at home while I’ve been away.

I walk faster.

And remind myself that I also miss my boyfriend. Obviously. I’ll go see Sage, of course. Maybe tomorrow.

But first, I’m headed to my people, the Riverwood. They’ll be excited to know I gathered all the keys quicker than expected. The Joywood told us I’d be lucky to find them all before I’m supposed to open the archives at the Cold Moon Ceremony at the start of December, next week. I therefore decided I would be so lucky, I’d do it fast.

This ceremony is meant to kick off the Yule season and our last weeks into full ascension. Though we won the ascension trials, that isn’t the end of our fight with the Joywood. They’re evil. And are no doubt planning to unleash their usual terrifying nonsense on us between now and our full ascension on the winter solstice.

No one can remember the last time there was a transfer of ruling coven power, suggesting to anyone who’s paying attention that the Joywood really are as bad as we’ve pretty much always known they are. Playing with collective memories is just one example. Even now, after we beat them fair and square, every step we take toward assuming power seems to lead to more steps. I know this annoys my friends, and it’s not that I’m not annoyed, but I’m a Historian. We’re used to the twists and turns and hidden paths of history and lore.

No doubt the Joywood will continue to try to obscure things, hide important information, and outright thwart us. We know they have access to black magic—our healer has been busy cleaning up black magic attacks since Samhain—so even though we’ve won, there’s no certainty it’s over.

But they never really have understood who they’re dealing with when it comes to us. My friends and I grew up under their rule. We watched them steal our friend and leader’s power and memory. Her sister’s freedom and magic. We watched them lie and change the lore. We fought back when they attacked us again and again and again, straight on and in secret. We tracked their offenses—and sometimes I think we only know the half of it.

The secrets tucked away in the archives only the leading coven has access to will tell me the truth, and then there won’t be so much uncertainty. We’ll know the exact steps we need to take. We’ll know how to protect ourselves, what unsettling dreams about crows might mean, and a whole slew of other things.

I can’t wait.

This thought brings a smile to my face as I decide to head to Wilde House first. I want to drop off my things and magic them into place. It might not appear like I’m organized, but I certainly am. One witch’s mess is another’s system. I also want to check to see if my cat familiar, the delightfully lazy and gloriously orange Octavius, is about.

Wilde House is dark and empty when I transport myself in right at the front door. For a moment I just stand in the foyer and breathe.

Home.

Of course, Wilde House isn’t really my home, even though I’ve lived here since I was eighteen. Truth is, I don’t know how much longer I can justify staying here. I’m not a scared teenager moving in here to support my best friend who no longer remembers the truth about her magic anymore. I’m not the girl who lied to said friend about my family life so she would insist on me moving in. I’m not even a Wilde. Emerson and Rebekah, who are, spend more time with their significant others these days than in their ancestral home.

Wilde House has always been a special place because it’s lovely and old and represents one of the founding families that made St. Cyprian what it is. It’s also had over a century of protections built into its very walls and floors. These days it stands as a monument to the much-prophesied Wilde sisters, who were deemed disappointments at eighteen but are now two of the most powerful witches alive.

Someone should be here until we take over actual ruling coven duties full-time.

But after the holiday season is over, I’m going to need to find my own way. Maybe by then I’ll be ready to move in with Sage, the way he’s been asking me to do for months now.

I wait for images of us together like that to sweep through me and charm me. I’ve been waiting. And like always, I find it impossible to picture. It’s just a blank, when I’ve always had an incredibly rich fantasy life.

Too rich, some might say. And often have.

“This is a sign of maturity,” I mutter to myself, because a rich fantasy life really only ever got me in trouble. I’m maturing, and just in time, as this ruling coven costume needs to fit me better. Not being able to daydream about my future with Sage probably means that I’m growing into all those good adult habits my mother despaired of me ever finding.

Mind you, I can and happily have imagined all those scenarios for my friends—all now coupled up in our coven. Emerson and Jacob ruling St. Cyprian and the world with Emerson’s might and fairness and Jacob’s calm and certainty. Rebekah and Frost tucked up in Frost’s glamoured Victorian on the hill (with Frost’s enviable library) being snarky and beautifully in love in spite of it. I have thought more about Ellowyn and Zander’s baby and the parents they’ll be more than anyone has a right to, probably.

But Sage and me? Nothing.

Facts, not fantasy, are what make good Historians, my mother always told me. You keep letting your head run away with you, Georgina, and you might lose it.

She’s never made it clear if she means that literally.

I drift toward the stairs and my attic garret rooms—my preferred description, though there’s nothing garrety about the third floor of Wilde House and the actual, lovely turret I get to live in. I smile at the sometimes grinning, sometimes scowling newel post, depending on who you ask. I’ve always found the carved wooden dragon’s expression more interesting than fearsome. The glittering onyx eyes seem to pay attention, and I like that. And occasionally, the effect of whatever enchantment exists around the newel post means you can hear it say something in your head.

Hello, Azrael. I’ve returned home. Hope you’ve been well.

He says nothing in return this time—no surprise there.

Dragons, even inanimate ones, do what and how they will. That’s only one reason that many of my favorite daydreams involve great fire-breathing creatures of legend.

Where good old Azrael might make others uneasy, likely because he’s been known to give off the occasional electric shock, I find his presence at the bottom of the stairs comforting.

Like a sentry guarding anyone who resides upstairs.

Namely me.

My hand glides along the intricately carved head, warm and silken under my palm, and it offers a kind of deep purr in return.

The only welcome home I need.

But the word home makes me feel anxious again. I hurry up the stairs, feeling out with my magic for Octavius, but I don’t sense him. He’s either enjoying Thanksgiving with the rest of the coven over at Jacob’s farmhouse across the river, or he’s off doing whatever it is familiars—and cats—do when left to their own devices.

I drop my things off, putting them back into their specific places. Especially my travel crystals, which need a good recharge. To anyone else, my room and my library in the next room look like a towering, haphazard mishmashes of everything I love—books, old things, all kinds of crystals—but my system is as ruthlessly organized as the best archives and libraries around the world.

I don’t like to let people see how my brain works.

I don’t think that’s weird.

Once satisfied, I’m even more excited to see my friends. I could transport myself over to what’s no doubt a delicious Thanksgiving feast, but I decide to fly. To get a taste of the cold November night, the stars pulsing bright and beautiful. To enjoy the sight of St. Cyprian below me, twinkling in the late fall dark. And to take in the confluence of three rivers and all its magic that my friends and I once saved.

After I get across the river to where St. Cyprian’s cemetery resides and the North Farm sits in rolling fields dotted with pretty farm buildings, I touch down outside in the yard. I see Murphy, Jacob’s stag familiar, grazing in a field in the distance in the moonlight. I hear the ruffling of feathers—no doubt Zander’s and Ellowyn’s bird familiars settled into a branch somewhere. Maybe even Frost’s raven, Coronis.

And through a big picture window in front of the house, I see everyone else gathered around a very full dining room table.

I should go right in. But I don’t. I stop. I watch.

My friends are eating, chatting, laughing. The dog and cat familiars are sprawled out around them, including my bored-looking orange Octavius. I try to step forward—I’m almost certain I do—but it’s like something . . . stops me.

It’s like there’s a little bubble around the house. Not a real one. Not the sort of magic encasements I’ve seen and used before. It’s just a figment of my imagination and I know that.

I know it.

Just like I know that if I walk in there, my friends will greet me with excitement. They’ll make space for me. They love me.

But the table is crowded. And from the outside looking in, it doesn’t seem like there’s space for me. Not just because they’ve only pulled up as many chairs as they need, but because . . . everyone is so happy, and it isn’t the wine. They’re smiling, laughing, and enjoying each other.

Three pairs of perfect couples.

They’re balanced. And if I go in there, I’ll upend that balance. I shake my head, out here by myself. It’s a silly thought. Particularly considering a coven is made of seven. This is my coven. I belong with them.

But Thanksgiving isn’t about covens or witches or St. Cyprian. It’s just . . . giving thanks. And they’re all having plenty of thanks without me.

Because you weren’t supposed to be back yet. Because you decided to make your return a surprise.

No amount of reason gets me to move my feet. I just stand here, feeling like I don’t belong. And when I reach into my pocket, curling my fingers around the crystals that always guide me, I get nothing. I frown and touch the necklace I often wear—a teardrop-shaped piece of prehnite I’ve worn on a delicate gold chain since the day of my pubertatum, when my mother gave it to me. It’s the only time my mother has ever given me a present that made me feel like she was trying to understand me instead of the daughter she wished I was.

Tonight it offers nothing but a kind of bleakness that sinks in deep.

Which is a sign in and of itself, I decide. I should have gone to see Sage first.

So that’s what I do instead.

Excerpted from Dragon Fires Everywhere by Hazel Beck. Copyright © 2025 by Megan Crane and Nicole Helm. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Hazel Beck’s Truly Madly Magically, which is out August 27th 2024.

Cursed by her own mother to always tell the truth and one of the only half-witches around, Ellowyn Good has never considered herself an equal part of the Riverwood coven. But when the Joywood, the evil rulers of the witching world, target her directly, she begins to wonder why they want her gone.

She’ll need to work with her newly formed coven to survive, which includes dealing with her first love, past wreckage and a whole new complication she didn’t see coming. With their fates in the balance, Ellowyn will have to learn to trust Zander again—or be doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past. Assuming they all survive the Joywood’s latest bid for absolute power over the witching world…

Tonight the glamour takes a lot more muttered spells than usual to hide my little bump from the outside world, and when I’m done, I don’t look as bright and energetic as I wish I did.

I guess that’s fair enough in the middle of the night.

Though I’m seeing an ex, so obviously I’d rather gleam.

Instead, I strap my trusty athame to my hip. I tell myself, pi­ously, that vanity has no place here on this night of great virtue and overdue truth-telling.

It’s not that I lied. I can’t tell a lie to save my life. I literally, physically, can’t form the words to lie. It’s a curse.

An actual, very real curse, courtesy of my well-meaning mother.

But omission hides a host of sins, and magic helps.

I step out the little door onto the second-story balcony that runs along outside my apartment. Half of why I picked this building for my tea shop when I inherited my grandfather’s little nest egg was this balcony. I can look down St. Cyprian’s pretty Main Street in the middle of the night and lose myself in the way the quiet streetlamps glow, the graceful trees stand like sentries down by the river, and the Missouri starlight dap­ples over the bricks. Magical bricks. Protective bricks.

Because this is the one place all witches and magical beings are supposed to be safe—even half witches keeping all-too-unmagical secrets.

I breathe in the night air. Summer is hanging on even though we’re in September, but autumn is there too. The soft scent of gently letting go underneath that stubborn Midwest humid­ity that doesn’t want to lift. I close my eyes and let the magic take over.

Then I fly.

Up above the buildings and into the stars. The night pulses around me, bright with starshine magic. I hover for a moment, high above the river, and follow the gleaming line of it with my gaze to the place where three separate rivers—only two to human eyes—merge and mingle and meld. The reasons the witches chose this place to settle after the ravages of Salem.

Power. Magic.

Wild as the stars, thick as the night, and almost lost to the dark.

I helped save that confluence. Me, a piddling half witch with a questionable ability to control her magic, the past, the spir­its, or any of the things a Summoner is supposed to do with ease. Still, I fought. I always fight and I always will. To help my friends. To save my family.

But that word hits harder tonight.

Because as soon as I share my secret, family means more than my mother, the slightly notorious Tanith Good of the more-than-slightly-notorious old Good family of witches going back centuries. Currently tucked away in her historic house with her partner, Mina Rodriguez.

Does she suspect the little secret I’ve been carrying around since Beltane? I’m not sure. Tanith is not the kind of woman to keep quiet, especially if that’s the wiser course of action.

But it’s hard for me to believe that the mother who knows me so well doesn’t have some inclination that there’s something different going on.

I run my hands over my little bump. Then I fly away from my view of the confluence. Ruth soars lazily beside me, down along the Mississippi toward Zander’s place. The stilts it sits up on are a nod to the capricious nature of the rivers and the de­termination of river town residents. Floods are in our bones, even when we’re fighting against them. Maybe especially then.

The lights in his windows are on, and I see him moving around inside. He’s probably exhausted, and I wouldn’t be sur­prised if he was a little drunk. God knows he hasn’t been eat­ing right or taking care of himself since Zelda died.

Out here in the dark, I allow myself to feel the intense sym­pathy I never let him see.

The only good news about Zander’s grieving this summer is that he hasn’t been partaking in his usual string of human one-night stands. Don’t ask me how I know that or, better yet, why I track it so I can stick my fingers in that unhealable wound.

I land on the rickety porch, also on stilts. I can hear the sound of birds huffing about up above. No doubt Ruth greet­ing Zander’s eagle familiar, Storm. I don’t know what familiars get up to with each other, or even how they communicate, but I know Ruth and Storm have never had any of the animosity toward one another that I felt they should.

Traitor, I think pointedly at Ruth, but she ignores me.

So I take a deep breath. I knock, hard, before I think twice.

There’s a beat as I stand there on the porch. Then Zan­der hauls opens the door. Maybe someday the punch of him won’t wind me, or so I like to tell myself—but tonight it does, the way it always has, since we were young and stupid. Even though his dark, wavy hair is disheveled and a touch too long, his moody gray eyes are shadowed, and the beard that I know hides a moon-shaped birthmark just under the right corner of his lips is getting a little wild these days. He reeks of alcohol, which I know could be the bar or his choices lately.

I think it’s probably both.

He looks behind me as if expecting the rest of our friends, clearly not believing I’d come here on my own. And I wouldn’t. Not for any other reason. Not on a random night in Septem­ber, anyway.

“Can I come in?” I sound weird and formal, but it’s the best I can do.

“Uh. Sure.”

He moves out of the way, and I step inside.

Zander’s never been known for being particularly neat or tidy. He’s a typical guy, but this is a new low even for him. Paper plates litter every surface. Empty beer cans, stacks of mail, dirty clothes everywhere with random socks scattered across the floor, T-shirts tossed over the backs of furniture, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the counter in the small gal­ley kitchen. Next to a whole lot of empties. The air is scented with the sharpness of hard alcohol and the heavy staleness that comes with grief and depression.

He’d refuse to admit to feeling either of those things if I asked.

I don’t ask.

I’ve spent a decade hardening my heart to this man, but the past few months have made my previous attempts at iron-clad resistance wear thin. I feel for him. I worry about him. I want to comfort him.

I have allowed myself almost none of these indulgences. There’s a reason our historic deal remains in place. We’re weak when it comes to each other. That’s always been true.

But we’re also fucking toxic.

Our friends think we’re bad now, with our bickering and general harshness toward one another. They have no idea how we’ve grown and matured.

The fact we can even share space these days is a testament to that. And how much we love Emerson Wilde, I suppose, be­cause watching out for her after the Joywood wiped her magi­cal memories at our high school graduation ceremony forced those of us who love her to grow up. Fast.

Emerson’s sister and my best friend, Rebekah, had to choose exile to survive, but the rest of us stayed for Emerson. Zander. Me. Georgie, her best friend, always right by her side. Jacob, too, but with enough emotional distance to stave off what I think must have been inevitable—given that they’re engaged now.

Maybe I hate the Joywood for that as much as anything else.

Which is why, along with the fact I love my friends, I’m part of this whole coven thing in the first place. Made up of cast-outs, grumpy Healers, former spell dim witches, the most feared once-immortal witch of all time, and Zander. We’ve decided we want a chance to ascend—to become the ruling coven ourselves. A decision that has earned us all targets on our backs. Not to mention the enmity of the most powerful witches alive or dead, and ample opportunity to fight off their dirty, too-dark magic

In the meantime, Zander and I are going to be parents.

Excerpted from TRULY MADLY MAGICALLY by Hazel Beck. Copyright © 2024 by Megan Crane and Nicole Helm. Published by Graydon House Books, an imprint of HarperCollins.

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘Truly Madly Magically’ by Hazel Beck appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

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

Hazel Beck is actually two people! Friends who spent a spooky day together in St. Charles, Missouri and were inspired to become cowriters when a story idea appeared to them, and they had to write it together!

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

We were both readers and writers from a very young age, and once we discovered we could publish those stories, we’ve both spent most of our adult lives spinning tales.

Quick lightning round! Tell us the first book you ever remember reading, the one that made you want to become an author, and one that you can’t stop thinking about!

Come over to our Instagram @hazelbeckauthor and tell us which half of Hazel you think these answers belong to.

Hazel #1:

• First book you remember reading: The Worst Witch by Jill Murphy
• First book that made you want to become an author: Stranger With my Face by Lois Duncan
• One book that you can’t stop thinking about: The Fourth Wing Rebecca Yarros

Hazel #2:

• First book you remember reading: Pudgy Pals
• First book that made you want to become an author: The Secret Circle series by L.J Smith
• One book that you can’t stop thinking about: Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver

Your latest novel, Big Little Spells, is out August 29^th! If you could only describe it in five words, what would they be?

He. Is. Really. Freaking. Hot.

What can readers expect?

To start up right where SMALL TOWN, BIG MAGIC left off, this time in Rebekah’s POV and she and her coven take on the ruling Joywood…with the help of one seriously hot immortal!

Where did the inspiration for Big Little Spells come from?

The entire Witchlore series was inspired by a Midwestern fall road trip with writing friends, and a spooky day in St. Charles, Missouri where it felt like ghosts or witches could be around every misty corner!

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

We loved exploring the sisterly bond between Emerson and Rebekah, especially from Rebekah’s POV this time around, since the first book, SMALL TOWN, BIG MAGIC was written from Emerson’s POV.

This is your second Witchlore novel! What are some of the key lessons you’ve learned between writing the two?

Never turn your back on an immortal witch. Your familiar is always watching. Asking for help wont kill you. Probably.

What’s next for you?

Our third Witchlore Book, TRULY MADLY MAGICALLY, will come out next fall, and it’s already written so we can’t wait for readers to continue on the Witchlore journey!

Lastly, do you have any book recommendations for our readers?

• The Witches of Thistle Grove series by Lana Harper
• Three Sisters Island Trilogy by Nora Roberts
• The Witching Hour by Anne Rice

Will you be picking up Big Little Spells? Tell us in the comments below!

The post Q&A: Hazel Beck, Author of ‘Big Little Spells’ appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Read on to discover just a few of our August romance picks and tell us in the comments below which ones you’re looking forward to!

Cruel Seduction by Katee Robert
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Aphrodite has never flinched at getting her perfectly manicured hands dirty, and she’s not about to start now—even if that means marrying Olympus’s enemy number one, the new Hephaestus…leaving a trail of broken hearts in their cruel wake.

Curves for Days by Laura Moher
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Readers of Olivia Dade and Lucy Score will love this sexy Southern curvy girl romance which follows Rose Barnes, a curvy heroine with an infectious spirit, as she crosses paths with Angus Drummond, a gruff yet undeniably charming contractor.

The Roommate Pact by Allison Ashley
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Perfect for fans of Grey’s Anatomy and Station 19, The Roommate Pact follows Claire as she nurses her friend and firefighter Graham back from an injury – and their slippery slope from friends with a FWB pact to possibly something more.

The Love Plot by Samantha Young
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

There’s a magnetic attraction when a happy-go-lucky gig worker agrees to a fake relationship with a rich, uptight New Yorker in this steamy romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Samantha Young.

My Roommate is a Vampire by Jenna Levine
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Fans of Ali Hazelwood, Lana Harper, and Jessica Clare will devour this madcap paranormal romance, replete with fan-favorite tropes like roommates-to-lovers, force proximity, and the hilarious added bonus of a romance between a mortal from the 21^st century and a centuries-old vampire who knows nothing of the modern world.

New Adult by Timothy Janovsky
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Nolan Baker longs to be “thirty, flirty and thriving” in this charmingly quirky LGBTQIA+ romance that’s one part 13 Going on 30 and one part One Last Stop.

Rent to Be by Sonia Hartl
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Perfect for fans of Tessa Bailey and Beth O’Leary, in this bright, laugh-out-loud rom-com, the grind of the millennial struggle is a lot more fun when you add falling in love to the mix.

Change of Plans by Dylan Newton
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

In this charming romantic comedy, a hometown hero comes to the rescue of a chef unexpectedly left to care for three little girls—who may end up saving him too.

Tastes Like Shakkar by Nisha Sharma
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

In the hilarious follow-up to the breakout rom-com Dating Dr. Dil, Nisha Sharma adds shakkar and mirch to Shakespeare’s iconic comedy Much Ado About Nothing for one sweet and spicy love story.

The Witch Is Back by Sophie H. Morgan
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Love is a hex of a thing. Former childhood sweethearts fake a relationship in this charming, witchy romcom.

Big Little Spells by Hazel Beck
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

A smart, modern Rom-Com about a witch banished from her coven who seeks help from the only person who can prove she’s not a threat to witchkind: her annoyingly immortal childhood crush.

Codename Charming by Lucy Parker
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Following Battle Royal, beloved author Lucy Parker pens another delicious romantic comedy about a fake relationship between a grumpy royal bodyguard and the charming, sunny assistant who melts his cold, hard exterior.

The Déjà Glitch by Holly James
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

To break out of a 24-hour time loop, all Jack needs is for Gemma to fall in love with him in a single day. All Gemma needs is to remember him first . . .

In Charm’s Way by Lana Harper
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

A witch struggling to regain what she has lost casts a forbidden spell—only to discover much more than she expected, in this enchanting new rom-com by New York Times bestselling author Lana Harper.

Kissing Kosher by Jean Meltzer
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

From the author of THE MATZAH BALL and MR. PERFECT ON PAPER comes this hilarious and emotional rivals-to-lovers romance.

Assistant to the Villain by Hannah Nicole Maehrer
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Once Upon a Time meets The Office in Hannah Maehrer’s laugh-out-loud viral TikTok series turned novel, about the sunshine assistant to an Evil Villain…and their unexpected romance.

What August 2023 romance reads are you looking forward to? Tell us in the comments below!

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