Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from The Christmas Competition by Zoe Allison, which releases on October 20th 2026.

The local rumor mill in Nisa Ansari’s small highland town is swirling about the downfall of her marriage, and in desperate need of a distraction, she enters her town’s Christmas house-decorating competition. The competition comes with the added bonus of getting on neighbor Kerr Murdoch’s last nerve. It’s the least she could do, considering her ex-husband left Nisa for Kerr’s girlfriend. And maybe if Kerr smiled or cracked a joke—just once!—his girlfriend would’ve stayed, and Nisa wouldn’t find herself alone during the holidays.

Introverted Kerr has trouble feeling comfortable around people he doesn’t know well. Newly single, he decorates his house in remembrance of his mother, who always had a soft spot for Christmas lights. But when Nisa’s and Kerr’s decorations end up nearly identical, he incurs Nisa’s wrath.

This means all-out war, complete with gaudy wreaths, twinkle lights, and too many reindeer to count. Never mind that Nisa can’t keep her eyes off Kerr’s toned forearms. Or ignore that he’s a pet-loving veterinarian with a heart of gold. After conceding to her husband’s wishes for years, Nisa is determined to get her way. But as Christmas draws near, Nisa must decide what she actually wants: the familiar rivalry she’s had for years with Kerr, or opening herself up to the chance to fall in love with someone new.

EXCERPT

I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to scroll past the photograph. I knew that I should unfollow Drew, or at least mute him from my feed, but every time the thought crossed my mind, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Because then it would feel like giving up on us forever.

Finding out he had a new girlfriend had been like a sucker punch to the gut. My mantra that this was merely a phase, that Drew would soon realize the error of his ways and come home, had become weaker since he’d taken up with Aileen a couple months ago. Saying it out loud, as I had to Rona earlier, was a tactic to force myself to still believe. But despite the fact that this trial separation he’d wanted now included a new girlfriend, I couldn’t let the tiny flame of hope be snuffed out. He might find his way back to me yet. I just had to figure out how to distract myself from him in the meantime. Putting up the tree had helped a little, but seeing it in position had reminded me that last time it stood in the corner of the living room, Drew had been here with me.

I continued to scroll, hoping that no other triggering photos would cross my path. But a few posts down something else caught my eye, for different reasons entirely. Something on the town social media page.

The Inaugural Inverglen Christmas Lights Competition!

Do you think your property is the most festive in the land? Click the link below to enter, then decorate your house by Christmas Eve, when our team of judges will walk the streets to decide who wins first prize for best-dressed house! The lucky winner will be announced on Boxing Day and will win a luxury weekend stay for two at the Loch Glen Hotel and Spa.

Excitement sparked in my system, sidelining my melancholy for a moment. What better way to kill two birds with one stone than to enter the competition? It would provide me with the distraction I was craving, turbocharge my Christmas spirit, and also—as a bonus—be an eyesore for Kerr grumpy‑arse across the road. He was a total grinch all year round and had never decorated the outside of his house, so surely going over the top with decorating would piss him right off.

Granted, I’d never really decorated the exterior of the house before either, save for some so‑subtle‑you‑could‑hardly‑see-them icicle lights under the living room window. But that was just because Drew hadn’t wanted our house to look too gaudy. However, he wasn’t here right now, so that gave me free rein, with no one else’s feelings to consider. Except Izzy’s, but I was sure my feline companion wouldn’t mind.

As if hearing my thoughts, Izzy jumped onto my lap, purring in contentment and rubbing her soft head against my hand—which was still holding the phone with the photo of sparkly Christmas lights on display. So, I took that as a sign of approval.

Excerpted from THE CHRISTMAS COMPETITION by Zoe Allison, published by Berkley, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright © 2026

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Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Now That We Don’t Talk by Rachel Pologe, which releases on October 20th 2026.

Norah Gold is a bolter. She avoids emotional situations at all costs, doesn’t do meaningful relationships, and when things get a little too real, she runs. She hasn’t let herself fall in love in nearly a decade, not since her whole world fell apart when her dad suddenly passed away. Desperate to escape a friends-with-benefits situation gone clingy, she returns home to Chicago for the holidays. Her one goal? Avoid Henry Cole, the boy who blew up her life and broke her heart back in high school. Easier said than done when she discovers that their mothers are dating and insist on celebrating the holidays together.

A decade later, Henry Cole is all custom suits and condescension. He is order to her chaos and absolutely insufferable about it. When Norah and Henry get snowed in together and learn just how serious their moms’ relationship is, they call a truce to make it through all eight nights of Hanukkah without setting each other on fire. As they begin to rediscover the foundation that made them so close growing up, Norah is desperate to keep her distance—the last thing she can handle is reopening decade-old emotional wounds. But even though they’ve tried to escape the past, Norah and Henry have unfinished business too pressing to ignore. Can Norah shake off her deep-seated impulse to bolt, or are they destined to flame out just like they did as teenagers?

EXCERPT

I sigh deeply and go back to my string of unanswered texts. I slowly type, I had to extend my trip. Sorry! Going off the grid!!!

Hannah peers over my shoulder and then squeals. “Mom, she’s staying!” my sister exclaims as she runs down the hall.

I follow Hannah back into the kitchen, where Mom is putting on another pot of coffee. “Oh, honey, this is my gift for the first night. You don’t even need to give me anything else.”

I look at Hannah and mouth, Gifts for every night? when Mom turns back to counting out scoops of coffee grounds. “She didn’t even do that when we were kids. What’s going on?” Hannah shrugs.

“I’m over the moon you’ll be here the whole holiday. I have big news, and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you.” Mom barely waits a beat. “Do you remember Ms. Cole? Kristine?”

“Henry’s mom?” I ask.

“Yes, honey, Henry’s mom. Well . . .”

“Mom’s dating Kristine!” Hannah interrupts. “What? You were taking too long to spit it out.”

Mom shoots her a look but clearly can’t stay mad for more than a moment. I don’t know how I didn’t see it last night. My mother is fully swooning.

“She was the girl next door,” Mom says wistfully.

I’m happy for my mom. All my own hangups about Dad aside, I want her to be happy and in love. He would want that too.

“They’re coming over for dinner tonight,” Mom says as she turns the coffeemaker on. “For the first night of Hanukkah. To celebrate.”

“They?” I ask, knowing exactly who they entails.

“Kristine and Henry, of course.”

Of course.

***

“How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me?” I bombard Hannah with questions, flopping dramatically onto her princess bed.

“I figured it out when I came home for Thanksgiving. They’re not subtle. It’d be too much if they weren’t so stinking cute all the time.”

“Thanksgiving?” It’s been a whole month of this ginormous secret.

“You were stuck working,” Hannah reminds me, repeating the excuse I made in November. “They’ve actually been dating for like, a year. Mom swore me to secrecy. She wanted to tell you herself. She thought you’d make a big thing about it.” My sister gives me a very pointed look, warning me to not start.

“I knew she was dating again, but . . .” Mom had always been open with us about her bisexuality, ever since she first gave us talks about our own bodies. She never wanted Hannah or me to think it was something she was hiding, or feel we ever had to do the same with anything of our own.

“But?” Hannah challenges.

“But Kristine? Henry’s mom? Really?”

“Yeah, that’s the part Mom was talking about. I always thought Kristine was really nice. She had the best Halloween candy.”

“Yeah, she’s great. But she’s Henry’s mom. My Henry.” It slips out before I can even realize what I’ve said.

Hannah’s eyes grow wide with amusement. “Oh, he’s your Henry now, is he?”

She knows that’s not what I meant. She knows what went down back then.

She knows he was never mine.

I roll my eyes at her. “Of all the people in the greater Chicagoland area, she has to pick the one who birthed the boy who ruined my life.”

“Love is wild.”

I look at my sister, more serious than I’ve been with her in years. “Hannah Arielle Gold. I am begging you. If you ever loved me, ever had any sisterly goodwill toward me, you will let me borrow something tonight since Henry ruined the one piece of clothing I have left in this time zone that’s not, at minimum, eight years old.”

Hannah leans forward, eyes brimming with pity. “The way you treat your clothes? Not a chance.”

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Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Murder by Ally Carter, which is out now.

Ella Chambers didn’t kill Liam Montgomery.

If she had, she certainly wouldn’t have done it outside his family’s mansion during the Christmas party of the year. She definitely wouldn’t have loaded his body into the trunk of her car. And she absolutely would not have announced to the town that the boy who ruined her life ten years ago was “so dead to her.”

But now Liam is missing—nothing but a bloody spot on the drive and a host of unanswered questions—and Ella is the only person who knows he’s still alive.

So it’s up to her to prove it.

Liam Montgomery didn’t want to die.

But, it turns out, when you’re the sole heir to a billionaire, someone might want you dead. Luckily for Liam, being dead works for him.

Now he’s on the hunt for a killer. Unfortunately, Ella is on the hunt for him.

She’ll have to prove he’s still alive to clear her name, but that’s easier said than done in a quaint mountain town where everyone knows your story but no one knows the truth. Can the billionaire’s grandson and the housekeeper’s daughter join forces to catch a killer? Or is their past too steeped in secrets and lies?

As the storm of the century blows in, every step will bring these two childhood rivals closer to a killer—and each other.

Because, this Christmas, only one thing is certain: it’s beginning to look a lot like murder.

EXCERPT

LIAM

The light was flickering on before Liam even realized what was happening. There were voices in the break room. Movement on the other side of the frosted glass that stood between Grady’s private office and the rest of the station. Ella opened her mouth to scream, but Liam was already pressing a hand against her lips and lifting her off her feet—carrying her to the closet before pressing in behind her and closing the door.

It was dark and tight inside there, with Ella and Liam and a handful of winter coats and clean uniforms hanging from a rod. There were slats in the closet door, though, and Liam could see out—slightly. The interior office lights were still off and voices were coming from the main room, but in the closet, all was dark and silent.

Well . . . almost.

“Letmego.” Ella’s words were hot and wet against his palm.

“Shhh. Come on, Chambers. Seven minutes in heaven. Let’s go.”

“Let me—”

There was something in his face, tickling his lips, and Liam blew out a frustrated breath as he realized—“Has your hair gotten bigger?”

She pried off his fingers and snapped, “I will yell,” but her voice was too soft and low to be heard beyond the inner office, and Liam couldn’t help but laugh because he knew he was holding all the aces.

“You could.” He didn’t even try to bite back his grin. “But it might make for awkward questions. What was Ella the Saint doing in the sheriff’s office with a flashlight? Wasn’t Ella recently arrested?”

“Brought in for questioning,” she corrected, but he went on as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

“Was Ella supposed to be working tonight? Maybe we should take away her key? Her job?”

Ella went suddenly still.

“Are you overcome with feminine emotions?” Liam whispered.

“I’ve been told my natural pheromones have that effect.”

“Your natural pheromones smell like someone who’s been sleeping in a van,” she whispered back and Liam shuddered.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You take that back.”

“No.” Then Ella was turning and squeezing, maneuvering between Liam and the wall as the voices grew closer, coming from the other room.

“Come now, Sheriff, is that any way to talk to a concerned citizen?” For a moment, Ella froze. It was almost ridiculous how easily Liam read her mind as she looked up at him through the shadows and mouthed, Violet.

“Not the words I’d use to describe you, Ms. Ridgeway,” Grady was saying as their footsteps got louder—closer to the office. And the closet. And the place where Ella and Liam were crammed together, too close in the dark.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re cute when you want to kill me?” Violet asked, and Liam could practically feel the pounding of Ella’s pulse.

“Ms. Ridgeway—”

“I like it when you call me that,” Violet teased, but Grady gave a sigh that sounded frustrated and flustered and fatigued. “When did you get so tall?”

“As I told your parents and the Montgomerys, our search for Liam is ongoing.”

“Well, maybe it should go a little harder,” Violet said.

“We’ve searched the house and the woods. We have alerts set for his passport, credit cards, and bank accounts. Every hospital in the state is on alert, and, weather permitting, we will soon drag the lake. It’s not that we’re not trying to find Liam, Ms. Ridgeway. It’s that . . .”

“What?” Violet said it like a dare.

“The thing is, Violet, I think you need to brace yourself for two possibilities.”

“And they are . . .”

“Either Liam is already dead and we are never going to find the body.”

“Or?” For once, Violet Ridgeway sounded afraid.

“Or Liam doesn’t want to be found.”

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Murder’ by Ally Carter appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Love You to Death by Jenna Levine, which releases on October 13th 2026.

Lucy McKenzie’s life has always been a disaster. So it should come as no surprise when one day she’s hit by an inconveniently-timed bus—and dies. Unfortunately for the handsome grim reaper who shows up to take her to the afterlife, Lucy is not about to go quietly.

Daniel is tired of his job collecting souls. While working for the Agency beats the heck out of going to Hell, he’s been doing this for literal ages. The drudgery has him yearning for more. Touched by Lucy’s plea for more time on earth, he convinces the Agency to make a deal: Lucy can have six more weeks of life if Daniel can observe her and report back on humanity.

But as Lucy and Daniel navigate the chaos of life and afterlife together, they discover that a second chance at living might be their real chance at love.

EXCERPT

~ Lucy~

Of all the embarrassing things I’ve done in my life, ducking behind a stranger at a workplace retirement party so my boss doesn’t see me has to be in the top ten.

“Don’t move,” I instruct, crouching down low enough in my seat that the man’s conveniently broad shoulders block me from view.

He freezes. “What are you doing?” His voice is very deep and rough around the edges, like he hasn’t used it in a while. It’s a sexy voice, a fact I’d maybe dwell on if we weren’t at a work event and the night hadn’t already gone to shit.

“Let’s just say that if I believed in Hell,” I explain, from behind this thankfully accommodating stranger, “I would currently be in its seventh circle.”

The guy makes an oddly strangled sound but says nothing.

My boss, Professor Elizabeth Skellar, stands less than five feet away as she scans the hotel ballroom. From the determined set of her jaw I know she’s looking for whoever forgot to bring the plaque honoring Professor Shiran’s fifty years of service to Tennessee College. The same plaque she was supposed to present to him five minutes ago in front of this stodgy crowd of professors, Prof. Shiran’s family, and a handful of university staff like me who couldn’t get out of being here.

But Skellar couldn’t present anything when Prof. Shiran took the stage because there wasn’t anything to present. Because I forgot the plaque at the office.

I’d known I was supposed to bring it. I’d even written it down in my Notes app. Sometimes, though, even writing things down isn’t enough keep me from screwing something up. I’m probably the worst admin Skellar has ever had—but forgetting the plaque for tonight’s guest of honor is a new low, even for me.

As I continue hiding in plain sight, Professor Skellar walks past us without looking in our direction. Only when she gets a drink from the bar and returns to her seat on the other side of the room do I let out a sigh of relief and get my first good look at the person I’ve been using as a shield.

I nearly choke on my tongue.

I don’t know why this guy appeared beside me at this table reserved for university staff when everyone else abandoned it an hour ago. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. No — handsome doesn’t do him justice. This guy is hot. So hot it almost hurts to look at him. Dark, artfully messy hair that all but demands to have fingers running through it. Ice blue eyes. I’d already noticed the life-saving broad shoulders of course, but I hadn’t noticed the way his torso tapers down to a narrow waist. Or this man’s very long legs.

Or the way his cheekbones are so sharp they could cut glass.

His charcoal grey suit looks like it cost more money than I make in a month as an administrative assistant and way more than an econ professor at Tennessee College would spend on clothes. He can’t be staff, or I’d recognize him. He’s also not family of the retiring professor, sitting way back here; Shiran’s family is all sitting together at the front table.

At least I look good tonight, thanks to my sister Jess, who took me under her wing the way she always does. My shoulder-length light-brown hair and makeup are on point. And the dress she lent me—a gorgeous black sheath dress with cap sleeves that fits me like it’s mine—gives me a confidence I rarely feel.

“Hey,” I say, tapping into that false confidence. Trying for sultry, but probably failing. It’s me we’re talking about. He’s glowering down at a note card, his jaw doing that hot guy clenching thing that hot guy’s jaws always seem to do in romance novels. “What’s your name?”

A pair of ice blue eyes snap to mine. They widen a little, as though the question startles him. “My name?”

I nod at our otherwise vacant table. “A few minutes ago I was the only one here. Now you’re here too. An introduction seems appropriate.” And I’d like to know who I’m about to hit on. “I’m Lucy McKenzie. And you are?”

“I know who you are.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised. “Are you in the econ department too?” He looks like he’s in his early thirties. Maybe he’s a new faculty hire after all.

“No.” His eyes go distant, as if he’s trying to answer a difficult question. “As for my name, it’s… Daniel?” His sentence turns up at the end, like he’s not sure about it.

“Are you asking me if your name is Daniel or telling me?”

A beat passes. “Telling you?” He doesn’t seem too certain of that, either. Being hot like burning clearly hasn’t make him immune to being strange.

“Daniel’s a nice name,” I tell him. His shoulders relax a little, as though my liking his name is a relief. “What brings you to my table at the very back of this lovely ballroom?”

He stares at me like a deer caught in headlights.

“This table is for the unlucky hourly employees who have to be here,” I clarify. I don’t tell him that my coworkers—including Eleanor, my work bestie—found more interesting places to be once the open bar started. It’s probably obvious; we’re the only two people here now. “Do you work here?”

“No.”

For a second I wonder if he’s a party crasher. But that’s ridiculous. Who would be lame enough to crash this party? Then again, I don’t remember Daniel from the formal retirement ceremony that afternoon. If I’d so much as caught a glimpse of this man out of my peripheral vision I’d remember him.

I try again. “What’s your connection to Professor Shiran?”

He shifts awkwardly in his seat. He clearly doesn’t want to be having this conversation. “No connection.” His gaze sharpens on me with an intensity that could cut stone. “There is someone here I have business with.”

“Business?”

He nods slowly, ice blue eyes still locked on mine.

Excerpted from Love You to Death by Jenna Levine Copyright © 2026 by Jenna Levine. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Crash Course by Piper Lawson, which releases on October 20th 2026.

Shay MacDonald was raised to avoid two things: race cars and the Ashford family. But when an injury puts her mechanic father on bedrest, she vows to save his career by covertly covering his shifts at the Ashford garage and enrolling at Ashford Academy–an elite school that trains aspiring drivers and engineers, like herself, for the lucrative F1 circuit.

Keeping a low profile is out of the question when she has a run-in with the Ashford brothers on day one. Theo and Jameson are racing royalty who know they can get away with anything. Theo, the charming and reckless playboy, tempts her to break every rule, while Jameson, the brilliant prodigy, unsettles her with a cold intensity that cuts deeper than she expects.

Shay will always be the adopted daughter of a mechanic, trying to survive unnoticed in a world that was never meant for her. But Theo and Jameson’s only reprieve from their father’s sky-high expectations is Shay. She’s a shiny new pawn in their old rivalry—or a prize worth risking everything for.

When a competition to work on the F1 circuit brings her further into their orbit, Shay is forced to work harder to protect her secrets. But the deeper she’s pulled into the world of the rich and famous Ashfords, the more she realizes everyone is keeping secrets.

Secrets that could shatter her past, her future…and her heart.

EXCERPT

SETUP: At her first Ashford Academy party, Shay gets pulled into an illicit motorcycle race by the Ashford brothers.

Shay

Cars give you the illusion of safety. Motorbikes don’t pretend.

We’re down at the road and I’m regretting my heeled footwear, but at least they’re boots and not stilettos, like most of the others are wearing.

Theo gets on a BMW, passing me a helmet before fastening on his own. “Trial by fire, New Girl.”

“Thought I’d already survived that.” The comment earns me a grin as I strap mine on.

Looking at the superbike, the moon shining off the titanium, makes my stomach lurch.

Jameson gets on a Ducati Panigale. The girl wrapped behind him is wearing a short skirt, and her long bare legs have me thinking this is an even worse idea than I originally thought. She catches me watching and rests a possessive hand on Jameson’s leg.

Yeah, I’m not fighting you for that one.

I go to Theo’s bike, reaching for his shoulders. His body is hard and warm through his shirt. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

Until I feel Jameson’s moody eyes on us. He rocks back, pulling off his helmet and tossing his dark hair off his face. “Change of plan. Switch girls.”

“What?” My heart thuds against my ribs.

Theo considers, frowning. “Do it.”

No fucking way.

“I chose the route and made him drive my bike,” Theo explains. “He gets to pick an advantage.”

My lip curls as I eye up Jameson on the Ducati. I want to get on behind him as much as I want to cuddle with a bucket of live spiders. But everyone’s watching and waiting, and drawing attention to myself isn’t the best idea.

His copilot looks even more unhappy than me but she peels herself off Jameson, evidently deciding Theo’s not a bad second option.

I wish I felt the same about mine as I cross to the Ducati. Each step feels heavy. The music and cheering in the back­ground might as well be happening in another universe.

While Theo’s wearing the same shirt from inside, Jameson grabbed a leather jacket along the way. It should look like shit with the dress pants. Somehow, it doesn’t.

“If vomiting on your head is an advantage, you’re more twisted than I thought,” I offer.

“Save the sweet talk.” Cold eyes flash from under the hel­met as someone holds up a phone with a countdown.

Three.

I scramble to swing a leg over the bike, shifting on the seat.

Two.

I scoot forward an inch. How much space can I leave between us without going flying off?

One.

“I suggest you hold the fuck on.” His voice is the last thing I hear before the sound of an airhorn rips through the night.

Arrogant pr—

The bike leaps forward. I cling to Jameson, my hand still rough from the accident the other day.

My thighs are spread to accommodate his hips, and it feels startlingly intimate. His body is hard, his chest and abs a wall I suddenly wish I wasn’t forced to hold quite so close.

He always looks cold and composed, but this is the first time I clock that he’s a living breathing person.

We’re accelerating. The wind whips over us, our tires bumping across the road. I expect the front of the bike to lift, but he keeps it level. We fly along the pavement, and my shock recedes, replaced by adrenaline. When I crack my eyes open, I see the other four bikes are eating our dust.

Alcohol makes my stomach lurch. We’re neck and neck with the BMW I should have been on.

Come on, Theo. I want him to beat the asshole who treats everyone, including me, like crap.

We head into a turn. I work my body closer, acting in self-preservation. Theo falters and we pull ahead an inch.

That’s when everything changes.

My body was already on alert from the game and the thrill, but some new part of me is waking up.

It’s not fear, or nerves.

It’s want. This part lives deep in my chest, nestled between my ribs, and it’s competitive.

I’m longing to pull away from the other bikes and watch the other drivers’ faces fill with dismay.

The nausea is gone. So’s the pain in my hand, crowded out by adrenaline. My face is pressed into his jacket, and I can smell leather, cold night air, and something sharp and masculine underneath.

Cool. Dark. Mysterious.

My hands fist in Jameson’s shirt. His abs flex underneath my grip.

He might be an epic asshole. He’s also a mind-blowingly good driver.

Right now, he’s mine.

Faster. My arms tighten around him, my thighs pressing against the backs of his.

His heart thuds under my hand, quickening as if I willed it to. Like in this moment, we could be one person.

Our lead’s growing. We’re going to win.

Then the superbike hits a groove in the pavement, and my weaker arm loses grip.

I slide.

A millimeter at first, then another.

Shit.

If I eat asphalt for the second time this week, it’s not going to end with a scraped hand and a few bruises. Panic surges through me.

Until Jameson reaches back and grabs my hip, his bare hand hot through the thin fabric.

END

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Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from The Bluff by Wade Rouse, which releases on October 13th 2026.

The Chapmans do Christmas the way they do everything: impeccably, expensively, and with the unshakable belief that good lighting can conceal bad blood. Their annual Christmas card may look picture-perfect, but behind the polite smiles there’s a storm brewing. This year, at their grand lakefront cottage on Mackinac Island, a snowstorm traps generations of Chapmans—and their schemes—under one roof.
 
Chris Chapman is on the verge of losing everything: his father’s trust, his role at the helm of the family business, and his wife’s respect. Kat Chapman is already fed up with hosting her critical, stuck-up in-laws and their impossibly inflexible holiday traditions. Her solution? Invite her working-class parents – born and bred Islanders – for Christmas, much to the horror of the Chapmans, whose rule that “We do not share Christmas with other people” is about to be broken.
 
As the snow piles up, so do the grievances: their children—fiercely liberal Leah and conservative golden-boy Chip—are locked in a battle of wits, Chris’s vaguely corrupt brother Cormac and his calculating trophy wife are stirring the pot, and Kat’s mother is holding onto a secret that could upend the entire game. 
 
Deliciously messy and surprisingly tender, The Bluff is a feisty festive family drama about money, marriage, power, and all the things we bring to the holiday table besides the turkey.

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Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Unapologetic Love Story by Elle McNicoll, which releases on October 13th 2026.

He’s looking for a headline. She’s about to become his whole story . . .

Raina Lewis is at the top of her game. As the creator of a smash-hit podcast celebrating neurodivergent women, she’s taking the world by storm, and doesn’t need anything – or anyone – slowing her down.

Tom Branimir has a reputation for cynicism. As an investigative journalist, his career has been built on exposing anything that seems too good to be true – and now, he’s set his sights on Raina.

When Tom pitches Raina as the subject of his next project, she’s determined to keep him at arm’s length. But as their professional arrangement blurs into a sizzling romance, Raina faces a tough decision. Retreat to the safety of the hard-won life she’s built herself, or risk her heart for the unapologetic love she never planned for?

EXCERPT

From Unapologetic Love Story by Elle McNicoll. Copyright © 2026 by the author, and reprinted with permission of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.

Chapter Four

“You’ve been holding out on me!”

Raina laughed at the outraged tone in her friend’s voice. They both turned in their seats to look back at the museum, which was far behind them now.

“What the hell was all that?”

“I actually don’t even know,” Raina said, sliding down in the leather seat of the car. “That guy! I think he’s casing me for a story. Arrogant, cold-blooded shark. He’s not getting shit from me.”

“Nuh-uh,” Pepper scolded in disbelief. “Every time I’ve seen that man, he’s been working on some story, and he always looks as serious as a heart attack. I’ve never seen him look like that.”

“What, a guy can’t be horny on top of a grift? Never mind about him,” Raina said wearily. “I won’t see him again. You might, but I won’t.”

“Why won’t you?”

“Didn’t give him my number.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Raina said, turning her head to smile at her best friend as she echoed her previous words. She didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt a pang of regret.

“Rai,” Pepper said gently. “What’s wrong with him? I mean, I’ve heard he’s a bit of a dick . . .”

“He’s not, actually,” Raina said thoughtfully, more to herself than to Pepper. “He says what he thinks, and sometimes doesn’t tidy it up first.”

She laughed at the memory of his fumbling attempts to apologize. It was weirdly refreshing. She knew better than anyone what it felt like to say the socially unacceptable thing. She might have learned to mask very well, but she was no stranger to fucking up in a social situation.

She suddenly felt the ghost of his gentle fingers on the base of her spine, and it caused her to jerk in her seat. Nice hands didn’t erase sneaky agendas.

“Let’s get burgers,” she suddenly said to Pepper. “The food they served wouldn’t have fed a rabbit.

“All right,” Pepper said loftily. “But I want it noted that I’m allowing you to drop the subject.”

Raina let her head fall against the window of the car. She closed her eyes, the lights of the bright city still flickering behind her lids. London could be so brash, so loud, so overpowering. Her heightened senses welcomed every breath of it whether she wanted to or not.

Yet now, all she could smell was the lingering scent of him.

. . .

“Welcome back to another episode of The Disability Track. I’m your host, Raina Lewis, and if you’ve met one of us, you’ve only met one of us. I hope you’re all having a good morning.”

Raina sipped a quick mouthful of warm water with lemon and then returned her attention to the expensive microphone.  She’d turned the small office room of her house in Barnes into a recording room. The late April sunshine gently spilled into the room, and with the warm carpet beneath her bare feet, Raina felt content.

“So, today,” she said brightly, “we’re hearing from June, all about her wedding. June, girl. Tell us everything.”

“Hi, Raina,” said a cheerful disembodied voice.

“June! Married lady.” Raina felt everything uneasy inside her settle as she spoke to one of her listeners. The space she’d created for other women like her had become her church. A community of people she felt at peace with, who knew her story as well as they did their own. “Welcome back.  We’re all listening.”

“Well, the toxic brother-in-law never came.”

“Oh, praise God!”

“I know! He made sure to leave lots of surly voice notes when he realized we were all having a brilliant day without him.”

“Ah, well,” Raina said. “Narcissists hate being denied a stage.”

“That’s what my wife said!”

The episode went smoothly. June recounted her day to Raina and thanked her profusely for connecting her with a dressmaker who specialized in plus-size couture. They discussed the unseen wedding tax for disabled brides and how best to plan an accessible reception. As Raina listened to the elation in June’s voice, she felt a soft pain. Hearing about happy families and a perfect day made Raina slightly envious.

She wasn’t the sort of woman who needed another person or material things to validate her. She was proud of her achievements.  She’d been proud as a cleaner; she was proud now.

And maybe her job wasn’t something her parents’ friends understood, but she was satisfied with it. No office politics, no boss with wandering hands. She loved what she got to do each day. She loved talking to listeners on a split screen, or reading out their comments.

But sometimes it was lonely. Just sometimes.

She pressed her toes into the soft carpet and sighed. In her little recording room, she could fool herself. She could pretend that the world was the way it should be. She wasn’t in the minority. She didn’t have to expose her scars.  There was a shorthand.

She checked her phone. A voicemail. Something that, in her line of work, had the potential to ruin her day.

“Hello, Raina? This is Samantha from Autumn Hobbs Productions? We spoke at an event a few weeks ago. Look, I’m producing a new dating show for next season and it’s disability focused. We would love to have you as one of our on-screen subjects. The working title is ‘Unpretty’ and we’d love as many neurodivergent women as possible. Call me back. I’d love to tell you more about the project.”

Raina pressed “delete” with calm conviction.

Programs like that were voyeuristic. At worst, they treated people like circus performers. At best, they were patronizing in their quest to portray all neurodivergent love stories as only ever wholesome and pure. Almost childlike.

Raina’s trysts had never fit that description.

This thought brought a face into her mind, and she grimaced. The face of an arrogant, cold-blooded shark.

And then she did what she’d ordered herself not to do. She googled Tom Branimir and his work. She had to admit he was infuriatingly good. His pieces were long, in-depth and dry. One was for The New Yorker. He exposed his subjects with a detached coolness, but Raina was forced to admire the steely principles under lying each article.

His thinly veiled disgust for a woman who said essential oils could cure cancer took a back seat to his need to present all the facts first. His pieces were, she hated to say, unapologetically excellent.

“Bastard,” she muttered, smirking.

She’d thought about the Hathaway Dinner more than she cared to admit.  She’d thought about it as she dressed a small blister on the heel of her foot.  She’d thought about it as she organized her make up bag.  She’d thought about it while on a virtual call with her accountant.  She’d thought about it while buying olives.

She thought about it in bed at night.

Enough. He’s an arrogant muckraker with a hidden agenda.

She quickly logged off her computer and grabbed her keys. She needed to walk, get away from the intrusive thoughts.

One last memory crept into her mind, a memory of a porcelain-blue tie.

Liberty. She would go and wander around Liberty.

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘Unapologetic Love Story’ by Elle McNicoll appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Have Yourself a Merry Little Meltdown by Sheila Roberts, which releases on October 13th 2026.

Jordan Frost had to do it. Her family was simply too perfectly eccentric not to put in a novel. She was thrilled when she got an agent and then a publishing deal. For two books. Two! Then reality set in. The book about an oddball family’s holiday adventures is coming out in November. Just in time for her trip home to Holly Bay, Washington, from the big city. Jordan is desperately hoping she can keep her pseudonym a secret so she can stay in her family’s good graces. She wrote the book under a pen name and when it was time for an author picture, she wore a wig and glasses. No one will know it was her, right?

Wrong. Charles Pine, her high school friend who always hoped for more, recognizes the woman he’s never gotten over as soon as he unpacks her book to shelve at the bookstore where he works. He knows this is the perfect opportunity to get Jordan to see him in a new light and he makes sure to run into her when she arrives home. She never thought of him as anything more than a shoulder to cry on back then, but he’s determined to make her see him as boyfriend material. Can he be her hero and help her get through the season with her secret intact? Or at least save her from a holiday meltdown?

When a series of minor family emergencies threatens to add even more chaos to Jordan’s already hectic life, Charles tries to help her find the true meaning of the holiday. Maybe coming home wasn’t a bad idea after all…

EXCERPT

Excerpted from Have Yourself a Merry Little Meltdown, by Sheila Roberts. MIRA, 2026. Reprinted with permission.

It started out small, like little reindeer nibbles.

Jordan Frost was talking with her new editor at Gem Publications about Jordan’s Christmas novel, Family Holiday. “This story is so much fun,” her editor raved. “It reads like one of those Christmas movies we all love with a whole cast of goofy characters, and I can’t help asking, who inspired the White family?”

My family. But they’d done more than inspire. Maybe she should have stuck with inspiration and left those real-­life touches out of the equation.

“They’re a composite of people I know,” Jordan said. Like an entire family’s worth.

“So, not your family?”

“Well, every family has a few funny stories to tell,” Jordan hedged, determined to control the narrative.

“Let’s be glad this isn’t a memoir. You might not be welcome at Christmas dinner,” joked her editor.

Nibble, nibble. Jordan’s laugh had about as much ho, ho, ho to it as Santa on a diet.

Well, her Christmas story was fiction. Mostly. Pretty much. Sort of. Anyway, it would be in the fiction section. Nothing to worry about.

But, maybe, just to be on the safe side, she should adopt a pen name. In case someone in her family heard about the book. Yes, pen name. Good idea. Her editor was fine with it.

Except she couldn’t simply change her name and expect to not have her author photo recognized by those who knew her. She went wig shopping. Took a new photo and sent it to her editor. There. Problem solved. Anyway, it was a first novel. It probably wouldn’t have a large print run, wouldn’t make it into many stores. What were the odds of the book making it to her hometown?

Orders started coming in. The numbers were strong. Her editor gleefully informed Jordan that her book had legs. Every book needed legs, especially novels by first-­time authors.

But where would those legs take Jordan’s? To her home-town? Nibble, nibble. There went more of her peace of mind.

The nibbling turned into a great big bite the day she was recording a podcast with Krissy MacMillan of the popular Krissy Kills It podcast. Their interview would be part of her Krissy Kills It at Christmas series and Jordan was slated to be the first.

“You’ll be featured in one of her Boomas episodes where she covers Christmas novels releasing in October,” Jordan’s publicist had told her. “You’ll love Krissy. She’s great.”

Krissy was great, friendly, and enthusiastic as she recorded her interview with Jordan for later release. There they sat at their respective laptops, smiling at each other from opposite sides of the country, Jordan making sure she looked exactly like her author photo and Krissy looking Christmas cute in a red sweater, a Santa hat perched on her long, brown hair.

“Want to know what I think of this book?” she asked Jordan playfully.

Jordan already knew. Krissy had told her before they started recording. She played along. “Do I need to be scared?”

“Let me sum it up with my Krissy Kisses,” said Krissy, and started throwing kisses. “Mwah, mwah, mwah, mwah, mmm-mmwah! Five kisses, everyone. I love this book,” she told both her followers and Jordan, making Jordan feel like a little kid seeing the tree on Christmas morning.

How could an interview go wrong with a beginning like that?

“Is Christmas your favorite holiday?” Krissy asked.

“Yes, it is. I love it,” said Jordan.

“Do you have any special family traditions?”

Jordan could think of several. She zeroed in on one of her faves. “Oh, yes. All the women in my family get together before Christmas to bake cookies.”

“I imagine you have some good bakers in your family,” said Krissy.

“We do,” Jordan replied, skipping happily into the trap Krissy had set for her.

“Any who aren’t so good?” There was one, but Jordan hadn’t consented to this interview to throw anybody under the sleigh. So how to answer that?

Krissy didn’t give her a chance. “The family in your book has someone who’s very challenged in the kitchen. What made you decide to write a character who was the queen of kitchen disasters? I’m thinking maybe, with all that family baking you do every year, there’s someone who manages to burn the cookies?” Pushing on the teapot, hoping to tip it and spill some tea.

Jordan’s heart rate picked up. “I think we all can identify with kitchen fails,” she said, hoping the conversation would turn a different direction.

“There’s one fail in Family Holiday that is pretty over the top,” said Krissy. “In fact, the whole family in the book is over the top. What inspired them?”

“I guess you could say they’re a composite of all those funny families we love to watch in movies,” Jordan said. She forced herself to smile. Wasn’t it time for this interview to be over?

Krissy was smiling, too, but hers looked puckish. “So, was this book inspired by someone in your own family?”

That was when Jordan could no longer deny the fact that she’d done something superbly foolish, get-­on-­Santa’s-­naughty-list foolish, get-­chased-­by-­Krampus foolish.

“They’re purely fictional,” she insisted.

“You had that family down so well. I just wondered if anyone who knows you would see a resemblance between your fictional family and your real one,” Krissy pushed.

“Oh, I doubt it,” Jordan said. Only my whole family.

“So, your real family’s not like the White family?” Krissy persisted.

“Not really,” Jordan lied.

“Well, that’s good to know because if they were they probably wouldn’t be buying you anything for Christmas this year,” Krissy joked. Chomp, went the reindeer. Chomp, chomp, CHOMP!

Yep, that interview was the moment denial left the party and fear pulled up a chair and got comfortable. If Jordan’s family read her novel they would tie her to the biggest fir tree they could find in Holly Bay and pelt her with lumps of coal. No rope needed. The Frost family always had plenty of strings of Christmas lights on hand.

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Meltdown’ by Sheila Roberts appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Falling Into Us by Denise Hunter, which releases on October 13th 2026.

Gabby Donaldson’s late mother left her with one final task: deliver a letter to her estranged mother. Once Gabby fulfills her mom’s deathbed promise, she’ll leave behind the grandmother she never knew and return to her carefully constructed life in the city. With a fulfilling career as a jewelry designer, she’s convinced she doesn’t need roots to feel whole.

But locating Rosemary proves more complicated than expected. And when journalist–and single dad–Mason Morrison offers help in exchange for telling her story, Gabby agrees. The arrangement seems simple enough: he gets the human-interest piece that could be his big break, and she gets to fulfill her mother’s final wish.

What neither anticipates is how quickly professional boundaries blur. As Gabby is drawn into Mason’s world–and the life he’s built with his precocious twelve-year-old daughter–Gibson begins to feel less like a stopover and more like home.

Yet the past has a way of complicating the present. If Gabby uncovers the truth about her family, will it free her to move forward–or make leaving impossible? And when the story is finally written, will she return to the life she planned . . . or risk falling into one she never saw coming?

Curl up with Falling Into Us for a sweet, slow-burn romance filled with unexpected family, small-town warmth, and the kind of love that feels a lot like coming home.

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The post Read An Excerpt From ‘Falling Into Us’ by Denise Hunter appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from The Christmas Yes List by Melissa Ferguson, which releases on October 6th 2026.

All she wants for Christmas is a rejection.

Chloe Hollis is done being a people-pleaser. After one too many bad decisions–including a job that asked her to cross a line she couldn’t–she’s determined to change. Her plan? Collect ten nos before Christmas by asking strangers for the most ridiculous favors she can think of.

It should be easy.

But then? Then she meets James.

Instead of shutting her down, the charming out-of-towner keeps saying yes–to Christmas karaoke, to small-town holiday traditions, to every spontaneous, hilarious, totally chaotic idea she throws his way. And the more he says yes, the harder it becomes for Chloe to stick to her plan . . . or protect her heart.

Because James has a reason for saying yes to everything, too–and it might cost them both more than they bargained for.

As their opposite missions collide in a swirl of festive mishaps, unexpected courage, and undeniable chemistry, Chloe starts to wonder if the biggest risk isn’t rejection after all . . . but saying yes to something real.

EXCERPT

James watches the snow fall outside, his jacket discarded over the chair behind him. He sips his coffee seemingly without a care in the world.

I count the seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Fascinating.

He truly is someone comfortable enough in his own skin not to even think about small talk. He clearly isn’t worried about making sure the person he’s with is comfortable.

Have I ever done that in my life?

As I sit opposite him, my heart is already starting to pound, questions itching at my brain like a bad case of lice.

Is he happy? Is he bored? What should I ask him about? I need a list of questions and backup questions. What if there’s an awkward lull in the conversation? Who am I kidding—I’m living an awkward lull in the conversation.

Would I bother him by talking right now?

Do I need to save him from boredom by talking right now?

Is he looking out the window right now because he can’t stand talking to me? Is he ready to go?

Five seconds later, I wonder, What was that twitch of his hand? Was he reaching for his jacket? Is he ready to go?

Five more seconds pass. What about now?

It’s difficult to think an independent thought over all the internal racket. When it becomes too much to bear, I put down my cup.

“Can I ask you a question?” I say, cutting in on . . . well, really just myself.

His gaze drifts from the window. He blows some steam off the mug of coffee currently touching his lips. Completely undeterred. Two feet away from me, this man is living an entirely different experience. “Sure.”

“Have you always been so”—I hunt for the word—“undisturbable?”

His green eyes twinkle. He gives an amused little lift of his lips and puts the coffee down. “Is that a word?”

“I’m not sure. Should be if not.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment or a critique?”

“Compliment.”

“Well. In that case.” He sits back in his chair and really takes the time to think the question through. “I guess I have to ask you to clarify your definition of ‘undisturbable’ before I can answer.”

I shrug. “Just everything about you, I guess. You seem to be in the unique position of someone who truly, absolutely could not care less what anyone else is thinking about you at any given time.”

He laughs outright, as though I’ve just pegged him and he’s surprised. “Explain.”

“Well, look at you right now,” I say. “You’ve been staring out the window for the past five minutes without even looking at me.”

His eyes cloud. “And that’s . . . good?”

“It’s not normal,” I counter. “Normal people who’ve just met don’t feel comfortable sitting together in a coffee shop looking at the snow out the window without saying a word to each other.”

“Has anything about today with you been normal?” he shoots back. “I have no idea what’s going on, to be frank. I’m just going along for the ride.”

Fair. So it’s been a weird day for us both.

Back to the point, though. “The point is,” I say, “people don’t just do what you do. They don’t just comfortably sit back and go ‘along for the ride.’”

“I agree,” he says, which, quite frankly, is surprising.

“And they certainly don’t just hang out in silence like we’re doing.”

“Does it bother you?” he asks.

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“Because how can I possibly sit here with you without worrying that you’re bored out of your mind if you don’t talk? People talk. People make small talk about the weather—”

“We’ve already discussed the weather. It’s clearly snowing.”

“And they talk about . . . about shoes,” I sputter, reaching for the first object that comes to mind.

“You . . . want to talk about shoes?”

“And they spout boring little facts about their lives and ask boring little questions about each other simply because, well, because silence is scary.”

As I end this little rant, he gazes at me silently, taking everything in.

“Hmm.”

He’s doing it on purpose, isn’t he?

He’s just making the silence last an eternity for a science experiment, to see how long before I bust. To get back at me for the weird car caroling and the freezing cold vigil beneath the tree.

A peppy bit of Christmas music dances through the room, the loud rumble of laughter and chatter across various tables weaving in and out of the hubbub, and yet there he is. Stoic eyes the same deep, rich color as the living garland hanging all around us. Grounded amid the fray.

I didn’t mean to share this revelation about myself. I mean, we’ve just met, and frankly, I don’t think I can recall being quite so honest with anyone in a long, long time. Those three little words I confessed speak volumes beyond what I actually said: Silence is scary because what if you are doing something somebody else thinks is wrong? It bothers me. It affects me. It keeps me up at night.

But to my surprise, he doesn’t throw up an inquisitor’s magnifying glass and parse out my statement. He goes another way.

He lightens the mood.

Picks up his coffee again and says, “In that case, I’d have to say I’ve been ‘undisturbable’ my entire life. Two of my uncles are litigators. My mom is the scariest HOA president and rose garden club leader you’ve ever met. My aunt works for the IRS. One cousin is a parole officer. I come from a long line of people who make Thanksgiving interesting.”

I smile a little and he continues, “But if you find the fact that I can be so confident that I do what I want without considering other people’s opinions a strength, rest assured it’s also a deep and cutting weakness. Believe me, I’ve got plenty to work on myself there.”

And just like that, he’s smoothly and subtly put us on equal footing.

We’ve both unveiled a weakness.

And I feel like he’s done it on purpose.

A kindness.

“Well,” I say, feeling the invisible straps bound around my chest loosening, “if you ever want to drop off a little cockiness, I could use some.”

“You sure? It can be a curse.”

“I’m working through my own curse. Believe me, a little aplomb could do me good.”

He grins. Puts out his hand. “It’s a deal.”

I take his hand. Shake it. And for the third time today, it feels like a little magic has sprinkled down on me.

Taken from The Christmas Yes List by Melissa Ferguson. Copyright © 2026 by Melissa Ferguson. Used by permission of HarperCollins Christian Publishing. www.harpercollinschristian.com

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