Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Knight of the God King by Lauren Blackwood, which releases on October 20th 2026.

Calliope’s wish has always been to become a knight, an elite healer and protector who uses music to summon magic. Yet despite her exceptional skill, she’s stuck lifting up her talentless cousin, whose family begrudgingly took Cali in as a child. But when an opportunity to become the royal knight of the immortal God King arrives, Cali finally gets a chance at a fairytale life – until her cousin blackmails her.

Forced to bring her cousin to court so she won’t share Cali’s shameful past, Cali immediately snubs Beric, the alluring, handsome squire tending to her. Now she must contend with his ire, even while feeling helplessly drawn to him. If that wasn’t enough, her duty means accompanying the king into The Dark, a demonic entity that only the king’s magic is powerful enough to battle – a fight he has been waging for centuries. She must also keep the king’s secret under pain of death: He’s not a god at all, and the only thing keeping him alive is the magic held by the royal knight. It seems serving the God King isn’t a fairytale at all, and when people start dying around her, she and Beric realize that they have no choice but to take their fate – and that of an entire kingdom – into their own hands.

In Lauren Blackwood’s thrilling fantasy, Knight of the God King, a knight’s power and her squire’s love are the only things that can help her defeat a man playing at being a god.

EXCERPT

CHAPTER 1

CALLIOPE

The holding room was brimming with bodies.

Nearly every knight from most every province was in attendance. Most were forced to stand, the full skirts of their elaborate dresses turning the room into an overheated, sweat-stench nightmare not even the mild English springtime rain outside the window could combat.

It wouldn’t have been unreasonable to expect a more comfortable waiting room, something more befitting the station of a knight, or at the very least more time to prepare. Instead, the audition was sudden, and we waited in song and sweat, finding out by word of mouth only a few hours before. And we all knew what that meant.

The Royal Knight of Deus Rex was dead.

Lady Violet had been well known to us all, through songs and the rare bit of gossip from the palace. But only those allowed at court had ever seen her, despite maintaining the role as the Royal Knight for the better part of three decades. It was a stable position, with a multitude of benefits, and one that rarely opened. And if I won the role, today would be the last time I’d have to lie to my aunt, making her believe I was running her errands instead of working on my craft.

I may not have been a working knight or blessed with noble parentage—I certainly had no business auditioning for a royal appointment—but if I succeeded, a permanent position would guarantee I could eventually find a noble husband without interference from my father’s ruined name or my aunt’s manipulations. He didn’t even have to be noble—a brave soldier would do, so long as he was a good person. There was something about a man with a sword that was unbearably romantic.

Either way, I’d finally have a life of my own, away from my aunt’s suffocating, restrictive household.

So I would remain through the stench of sweating bodies, the dirty looks from women just as travel worn as I, the cramped room with barely a place to sit . . . and the odds stacked against me.

Because what was on the other side of this audition was too tempting to ignore.

Freedom.

I tucked closer to the corner, gripping my audition number in my fist, so the close bustling bodies wouldn’t knock it from my grasp. The taller woman standing in front of me had a number a few slots after mine, so between her and the expensive vase resting precariously on a stone pillar nearby, I was certain I could keep out of sight until my cousin had her turn. Many of the knights were performing vocal exercises, their pretty voices paired with the multitude of conversations creating the atmosphere of a lively party. But I couldn’t risk opening my mouth, of having Anise recognize my voice.

Anise, who stood on the other side of the room, conversing cheerfully with her best friend. Anise, the actual knight. Whether she deserved the title was debatable. Her voice, however pretty, was not the most accurate, which made her magic even less so. But she had studied at the Knight Academy. She had proper status as a practicing knight. I only had the skill. Anise certainly wasn’t going to win on her own merits, and also happened to be petty, so if she spotted me she would do everything within her power to make sure I wouldn’t succeed either.

The pair of doors leading to the audition room slammed open, and a woman stormed out, muttering something about being insulted. A churn went through my belly at her exit. What exactly did this audition consist of?

“Eight,” the auditioner’s voice called, his no-nonsense tone making it clear that this was not going to be a simple audition. One of the knights walked as gracefully as she could manage through the throng to enter the room, the door shutting behind her.

I took a deep breath, settling further into the corner, if only to take a bit of weight from my feet. It would be a while yet. I was number forty-two—I’d made sure to enter the queue as far from Anise as possible, so she would be long gone by the time I was called.

I jolted and looked up at the sound of the door—barely thirty seconds from when the knight first entered, and she was leaving, tear-streaked cheeks shimmering. What on earth was he saying to these poor knights?

From where I sat, I could see his black hair in the doorway, but I didn’t dare try to see his face. “My ladies,” he said, his voice colder now, if even possible. “If you can’t perform the basics of sound vibration and intonation, please save us all some time and vacate the waiting room.” He paused but didn’t wait for anyone to leave as he continued with, “Number nine,” and entered the room again.

One poor knight slipped out of the room shortly after, looking dejected. The wise ones, whether they lacked the skill or not, didn’t move. One had to be truly foolish to not at least try for the opportunity to join the royal court. Better to try and fail than to give up.

But the auditioner did have a point. Creating vibrations in the air was the very first skill a knight perfected—it was literally the means to summon magic. Snapping or flicking one’s fingers, creating puffs of air with one’s mouth, those were all practiced before hitting different tones came into the picture. And certainly before instruments and tools were brought into play. In fact, unless one practiced their pitches or, ideally, were born with perfect pitch, there was no point in bothering with singing. The sound frequency combination for closing a wound, say, was completely different than the one used to create a shield. The art of knight magic was subtle and specific—many were born with it, few perfected it. It was the difference between blowing out a simple candle and, well . . . serving Deus Rex.

Thankfully, with the number of hours I’d spent helping my cousin learn the skills required to become an expert knight, I’d managed to perfect them right under my aunt and uncle’s noses. Anise knew I could perform magic, but because we’d never shared the same ambition—she, an advantageous marriage, and I, a way to support myself so I could finally leave my aunt’s home—she didn’t really care. But she was three years older and, at twenty-one years of age, hadn’t even gotten close to marriage yet. This position may be her only chance.

I had to avoid her at all costs.

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘Knight of the God King’ by Lauren Blackwood appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Beautiful to See You (Again) by Lygia Day Peñaflor, which releases on October 20th 2026.

Two years ago, she fell in love with her high school’s valedictorian Natty, the awkward boy who’d always adored her. But their summer together ended in tragedy. Now, instead of attending Columbia, Tia works as a dog walker, drifting through New York City and avoiding the future.

Then she discovers a hidden tunnel in Central Park…a tunnel that can take her back: back to Natty and their glorious summer, the summer she thought was gone forever.

But every visit comes at a cost. The more time Tia spends trying to change the past, the harder it becomes to return to the present—where the ambitious film student, Razor Ford, is determined to cast her in his short film…and maybe even pull her out of her grief and remind her that life is still waiting for her.

Caught between then and now, Tia must decide between holding on to what she’s lost—or moving forward to what might be the bravest love story of all.

Loading…

Taking too long?

Reload document

| Open in new tab

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘Beautiful to See You (Again)’ by Lygia Day Peñaflor appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from False Face by Josh Galarza, which releases on October 20th 2026.

Rusty is positive Todd with two D’s is a figment of his troubled mind. That’s the only explanation for why he breaks into musical numbers and lurks in the school bleachers to stare unabashedly at Burt, the cutest guy in school. But when Todd’s antics go a little too far, Rusty quickly finds himself in a dangerous situation. Little does Rusty know, the boy he’s head over heels for just might be the one to save his life.

By day, Burt Espinoza is the only out kid in school who’s ever maintained his social status. But by night, he is a real hero: a secret agent rescuing vulnerable queer kids in danger. His handlers (also his adoptive moms) are concerned he’s pushing himself too hard to be the man he thinks he needs to be. Now Burt has to prove that he’s ready for his biggest mission yet: saving the only boy he’s ever hurt.

Raw, surreal, and timely, this novel is perfect for fans of Rex Ogle and Randy Ribay.

EXCERPT

Penny’s voice deepens with determination. “I’m serious, Tina. There’s not a moment to lose. I mean, back when you were growing up, all these poor men who thought they could get away with that revolting behavior ended up with AIDS.” She drops her voice to a whisper, as if uttering the acronym might conjure the virus. “And the ones who didn’t get exterminated were left alone. No friends—they were all dead. And certainly no children.” She gives her head a tight shake. Not a single hair moves from the Aqua Net sculpture framing her face, a deeply creviced facade of indignation, cheeks pinched as if her salivary glands pump lemon juice. “And sure, we could chalk it up to the price of sin and wash our hands of the whole mess, but I’ve been praying faithfully about the issue, listening to my WellWord cassettes each and every week, and I can say with absolute certainty that the next generation doesn’t have to face the same fate.”

Tina raises an eyebrow.

“It’s true! But to save them we have to be vigilant, even and especially with the little ones you teach. I mean, with all these queers traipsing about like they own the place—”

“Homosexuals.”

Todd’s chains rattle as he roars with laughter. His shock is overshadowed only by his delight that I just opened my mouth to correct Penny. I don’t know which of us—Penny, Todd, or me—is most stunned. I’m about to berate Todd for composing the retort, but I’ve got him locked up tighter than the queen’s jewels, several boards nailed over his dungeon door. Did I just correct Aunt Penny of my own free will?

Penny raises her brow and fixes her gaze on my chest. I can almost feel the blood bubbling from a stab wound. “Did you say something, Rusty?” Her words sound like, I know exactly what you said and you will live to regret it. They sound like, I’ve had my eye on you ever since you insisted on performing the Nutcracker ballet for the family as a one-man show when you were seven. They sound like, I produced my youth documentary because I love you.

“No,” I mumble. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Speak clearly, Rusty. Pro-ject.” This is one of Aunt Penny’s favorite words. When she was a high school geography teacher, she was famous for screaming it from the back of the classroom whenever a student was giving a presentation, always drawing out the first syllable so the second hit like a gunshot. Prrroooeee-ject!

“I . . .”

“Look at me. You’re a strong young man. If you’re going to speak, do so with authority.”

I clear my throat, force myself to meet Penny’s eyes. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Good, because you should be listening. You . . .” Penny narrows her gaze, seems to reconsider her words. “Your soul is in deep peril. I would hate to see you become another casualty to the devil.”

My gorge rises. There’s something in Penny’s tone, in the knowing look in her eyes, that has me certain she’s leaving something unsaid—something she is saying, actually, just not out loud, something she’s saying only to me. Penny knows. She sees the giant rainbow banner above my head. The flashing neon signage, the pulsing arrows pointing out the truth: homo, homo, homo.

Todd sticks his head through the window in his cell door and gives me a pitiful look, the type you’d give a toddler refusing to accept his bedtime. They all know, Russell. They’ve known since we tried to get away with stealing Liesl’s My Little Pony collection by writing “Rusty” on each of them in permanent marker. It was not the heist of the century, I’m afraid.

I glance around the table at the assembled. All these people who pretend to know me but definitely don’t know me. They don’t know me, do they? Please, God, tell me they don’t know me. They can’t.

Says the boy who used to wear his sister’s bathing suits to play dress-up as the anthropomorphic, tightrope-walking kitty from our favorite Muppet-filled show.

That was you.

Whatever you say, you big, strapping hetero.

Penny returns to her conversation. Besides Tina, none assembled heard our exchange. Dad sits at Penny’s shoulder, but he hasn’t even glanced my way. So why do I feel so naked? I’m standing center stage in Todd’s sinful production, the spotlights so blinding that I can’t see the audience, bulbs so hot that my skin shines with sweat. I’m cowering, trying to cover myself. Whoever is out there—hundreds and hundreds of seats, all filled—they’re jeering, lobbing rotten produce. I want to scream, but I don’t have the breath. I have to get out. I have to . . .

Somehow, I find the strength to move my limbs. I shove my chair back without asking to be excused. I bolt for the staircase. The safety of my bedroom is so close. Just have to make it up the stairs.

My dad calls after me. “Hey, Rusty, you gonna eat your stuffing there, kid?”

“It’s all yours,” I choke. I remember what Penny said about the way young men are supposed to talk. I have to get this one thing right, if only to show Penny that she’s wrong about me. I manage to modulate the quaver in my voice. As I reach the landing, I project, “It’s all yours, Dad.”

I burst into my room and close the door. I sink to the floor, back propped against the wall. Is this really happening? Penny’s secret message? Has she told the others? Are they all talking behind my back? Private phone calls? Hushed conversations while I sleep? Has she told Pastor Davis? Does Pastor Davis know? Is that why he wanted to have a heart-to-heart yesterday? Does my dad know? Has he always known?

My hands tremble. I feel . . . Is this what shock feels like?

But the greatest shock of all is yet to come.

I touch my cheek . . . and my fingers come back wet.

When was the last time I cried? Not since my dad found two dozen of Liesl’s My Little Ponies under my bed. How old was I? Eight? Liesl stood at his thigh, a hand on her tiny hip, fury in her eyes. Even Mom rushed into the room, roused from her day-sleeping by the commotion. Dad threw up his hands in frustration, yelled four simple words that haunt me to this day, even though it’s been nearly a decade since they had me hiding behind the shed in the backyard to cry. “Rusty, you’re a boy!”

Todd steps from his cell. All the padlocks and chains and restraints are gone. I’m not sure if I’m too weak to keep Todd chained or if I just don’t want to fight tonight. For once, he doesn’t say anything sassy or outrageous. He doesn’t make me feel like a jerk and he doesn’t torture me with a song. He just sits beside me and takes my hand. In the mirrored doors of the closet, he’s almost real. I can see his bright eyes and long lashes, his spattering of freckles and rusty red hair, his face so quick to break into a grin.

“I . . . I feel . . .” I sniff and wipe at my eyes. “Um, I feel weird.” A sob bursts out.

Todd gives my hand a squeeze. I know. I’ve got you, lady.

You do?

Of course I do. I’ve always been here for you, haven’t I?

I nod, for once willing to admit that it’s true. Tomorrow is soon enough to acknowledge a more complicated reality. Tomorrow, I’ll remind myself that Todd, whether he means to be or not, is the cause of all my problems. He’s the reason I’m sitting here crying right now. But maybe, just for tonight, I can let myself remember how it feels to be comforted by him.

Just like that day behind the shed, I rest my head on Todd’s shoulder, grit my teeth, and weep.

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘False Face’ by Josh Galarza appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Everything’s Not Lost by Frederick Joseph, which releases on October 20th 2026. 

As a sixteen-year-old Black girl with bipolar disorder, Ella Washington has plenty stacked against her. But following her beloved sister’s unexpected death and its turbulent aftermath, Ella is desperate to find any sense of normalcy. Worse still, someone at her school is determined to drive her deeper into despair.

It feels nearly impossible to find her way out of the fog of grief and loneliness, but through her love of art, some unlikely new friends, and the memory of her sister, Ella slowly learns that the pursuit of happiness and forgiveness is an endeavor that is more than worthwhile.

Told in Frederick Joseph’s perceptive and lyrical voice, Everything’s Not Lost is an achingly relatable story about finding points of light even in the darkest of times.

Loading…

Taking too long?

Reload document

| Open in new tab

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘Everything’s Not Lost’ by Frederick Joseph appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Fans of Veronica Roth’s YA dystopian phenomenon, the Divergent series, are sure to be thrilled with her return to post-apocalyptic Chicago this fall. The first in a new duology, The Sixth Faction reworks this bestselling story from a different angle: How would Tris’s life—and the entire world around her—unfold if she chose a different path?

Just like in Divergent, 16-year-old Beatrice Prior faces the most important decision of her life. In a society where the population is separated into five distinct groups, each young adult must decide for themself which faction to spend the rest of their life with. Beatrice was raised in Abnegation, with principles of sharing, helping, and selflessness—principles she knows are good, yet she doesn’t truly feel at home there.

After taking the simulation that should reveal which faction is her match, Beatrice learns why she’s never felt like she fit in: She doesn’t fall into just one faction like she’s supposed to. She’s Divergent, different from those around her because she exhibits the traits of multiple factions. And Divergent is a dangerous thing to be in this world.

This news makes Beatrice’s decision all the more difficult. She doesn’t feel particularly drawn to Amity, known for their kindness, or Candor, known for their honesty; and the results of the simulation support this. But she does wonder how she may fit with the Erudite, who value knowledge and intelligence, or the thrilling prospect of Dauntless, protectors of the city. And, of course, there is always the option to remain with her family in Abnegation. So, Beatrice heads into the Choosing Ceremony uncertain of which faction to pick.

This all sounds pretty familiar, right? Then Roth turns everything we know about this world upside down.

The excitement of reading a retelling like The Sixth Faction lies in all the ways it parallels and diverges, if you will, from the original series. The story starts just like Divergent does, down to the details: Beatrice Prior in front of the reflection she’s only allowed to see four times each year, as her mother prepares to cut her hair. The premise holds the same basic thread, however within two pages the details already begin to spin off in a different direction.

Although she doesn’t choose to join Dauntless, Beatrice still evolves into Tris—but a different version of Tris. While she struggles with the same overarching question of who she is, and therefore what choices she should make for her life, there is a different air about her from the start. The storyline still feels authentic to her character, though. And it’s not just the fact that she makes different choices in this novel. The plot also unfolds in a different way, allowing her options that would never have existed in Divergent.

Roth also makes this story about more than just Tris. Whereas Divergent was told entirely from her point of view, not branching out until later in the series, The Sixth Faction begins alternating perspectives early on. Divided into six parts, the narration incorporates the perspectives of two other characters, which keeps the momentum driving forward. (Sorry, you’ll have to read to find out which two characters!)

It’s difficult to say too much more about the plot without completely spoiling the fun. However, here’s a hint: The title gives a big clue to the story ahead. And if you’re worried about whether or not Four will still be part of that story, don’t. Take a closer look at the cover. Roth does a great job of echoing pieces of Divergent across this alternate universe, calling up many of the memorable characters and scenes to play a role in this story, just in new ways.

Many readers were upset by the way Roth chose to end the original Divergent series, so they see this new duology as a chance to find a better ending. I’m not, however, one of those readers. Unhappy endings sometimes come with the territory in this genre, as they should. I’ve had a soft spot for dystopian fiction since reading Lois Lowry’s The Giver as a child and the world of the Divergent series—both past and in this new imagining—nails all the hallmarks you’d expect: a broken down society, opposing groups, power grabs, control of knowledge and communication, and more.

The Sixth Faction is intriguing from the start because the reader can’t wait to find out how Tris’s story will change in this alternate universe. It’s a fantastic premise. There’s also a clear evolution of Roth’s writing from the original; it has definitely grown, along with her readers. So, be prepared to suspend time when you pick this one up—you won’t be putting it back down until you turn the last pages, and those last pages will leave you in pure shock.

Stay tuned for the conclusion of this duology, The Last Testimony, set to release February 2, 2027!

The Sixth Faction is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop.org, and other good book retailers, like your local bookstore.

Will you be picking up The Sixth Faction? Tell us in the comments below!

Synopsis

The worldwide sensation as you’ve never seen it before. Step into a bold new Divergent series from #1 New York Times bestselling author Veronica Roth.

Beatrice Prior stands on the brink of a decision every person in her world must make: five factions, five futures, five lives.

She has a plan: she’s going to make the bravest choice and leave Abnegation to join Dauntless, even though it means abandoning her family.

But when tragedy strikes at her choosing ceremony, everything changes—her world, her plans, even Beatrice herself.

Her decision will thrust her into the crosshairs of an underground rebellion, where a boy with secrets as dangerous as her own—a boy with only a number for a name—may be the only person she can trust.

One choice will change everything.

The post Review: The Sixth Faction by Veronica Roth appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Sunderworld, Vol. 2: The Unfortunate Responsibilities of Leopold Berry by Ransom Riggs, which releases on October 13th 2026.

The magic was failing. The monsters were coming. Sunder was desperate for a hero, and Leopold Berry was certain he’d been chosen to save it.

He was wrong.

After flunking his channeler test in spectacular fashion and getting kicked out of Sunder in record time, Leopold swore he was done with magic for good—until a trail of clues from his late mother dragged him back in, then led him to a mysterious ring that might just be the most powerful object in magical history. If only he can figure out how the damn thing works.

Now the walls are closing in.

Famous in Sunder for all the wrong reasons, Leopold is being stalked by paparazzi, threatened by government agents determined to get their hands on the ring, and hunted by terrifying creatures hungry for its power. His only hope is to learn to wield the ring before someone kills him for it and then use it to uncover his family’s buried connection to Sunder before the trail goes cold—and the magical world collapses around him.

Because the magic is still failing. The monsters are everywhere. And Sunder still needs a hero.

With loyal friends Emmet and Isabel at his side, Leopold must decide who he can trust in a city built on illusion—and whether the kid who was never chosen is willing to risk everything for the world that didn’t want him.

Welcome back to Sunderworld.

Loading…

Taking too long?

Reload document

| Open in new tab

The post Read The First Two Chapter From ‘Sunderworld, Vol. 2: The Unfortunate Responsibilities of Leopold Berry’ by Ransom Riggs appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from A Darker Act by Amy Goldsmith, which releases on October 13th 2026.

There’s something on those moors that likes to hunt young maidens for sport….

When high school senior Hazel joins her school’s elite theatre group, the Edgemoor Players, all she’s looking for is one more extracurricular to add to her packed college resume. This year, the Players are putting on their most ambitious production yet: a tragic romance inspired by local legends of a ghostly huntsman who is said to have once stalked the nearby moors.

That was then. Now, no one talks about the play, its disastrous final performance, or the strange, eerie happenings which preceded it. But when Hazel signs up for an extra credit camping trip months later, she finds herself suddenly reunited with her former castmates for a weekend.

Trapped together in the woods, Hazel will have to confront her old friends – including Roman, the Players’ enigmatic leading man. And they will all have to reckon with a far deadlier truth: that what they started last year isn’t over.

Months ago, the Edgemoor Players woke something up – and now it won’t rest until it catches its prey.

Loading…

Taking too long?

Reload document

| Open in new tab

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘A Darker Act’ by Amy Goldsmith appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Heirs of Infamy by Kyla Zhao, which releases on October 13th 2026.

Beneath the neon glare of postwar San Francisco, Chinatown is ruled by two rival crime families. East Phoenix deals in secrets and stealth, West Dragon in fists and fear. But both empires are bleeding money, and the fragile truce between them frays by the day.

As the daughter of Chinatown’s most powerful crime boss, Alexis Sung can do almost anything, except join the family business. When her first job for East Phoenix goes wrong, her father shuts her out for good. Across town, Zachary Ren—a brilliant orphan raised by West Dragon—is desperate to escape a life he never chose. Their paths were never meant to cross again, not after he destroyed Alexis’s one shot to prove herself.

That changes when a daring heist surfaces—one with a bounty big enough to save both families from ruin. Defying her father’s orders, Alexis seizes the chance to redeem herself by striking an uneasy alliance with Zachary. As old wounds reopen and new sparks catch, survival means trusting the last person she thought she would.

EXCERPT

FOUR YEARS LATER—DECEMBER 1948

Can’t you see there’s a line?” someone hollers.

I don’t bother responding. Just flip my hair over one shoulder as I stride past them—straight to the entrance

of Club Shanghai, emerald velvet skirt swishing over my ankle-strap heels.

The dance club has always drawn a crowd, especially students from the nearby University of San Francisco. But this is an exceptionally warm winter night, so Grant Avenue is teeming with an eclectic mix: college boys in sports coats, young women braving the cold in swing dresses, even a few sailors in their liberty blues on shore leave.

The thick-necked bouncer looks at me lazily as I approach. “ID,” he grunts.

“I’m Alexis Sung,” I say.

A glimmer of recognition enters his eyes instantly, like I knew it would. In Chinatown and its vicinity, my name’s all the identification I need. And more than enough reason for the bouncer to lift the velvet rope, even though my baby face wouldn’t fool anyone.

As I step past the beaded curtain, the night air is swallowed by a wave of heat and sound. Lanterns cast an amber glow over the

wooden floor, sticky with spilled beer, and the air is smoky with a heady mix of Lucky Strikes, Brylcreem, and syrupy perfume. Onstage, a singer in sequins croons over a jazz trio.

I wasn’t planning on going out tonight—I almost never do. But Dad’s out late again on East Phoenix business, and I couldn’t take another night listening to the echo of my own thoughts in our sprawling house. So here I am, chasing noise, bodies, sweat—anything that helps me feel like part of something bigger than myself.

“I swear we’re twenty-one!” A familiar voice slices through the din.

Half a dozen of my classmates from Galileo High crowd near the entrance, angling for one last night out before winter break starts tomorrow. The same bouncer from earlier flips a driver’s license back to Susan Sutherland, whose scowl clashes with her peppy yellow polka-dot dress.

“You think just ’cause I work at a club, I can’t read a birth date?” he grunts.

Susan’s offended look gives me a greater high than any drink from Club Shanghai’s bar. Maybe it’s petty, since we’re friends at school, all smiles and sweetness to each other’s faces. But any illusion that she likes me shattered when I overheard her gossiping about the dirty source of my father’s import business. Yet the very reason she sneers behind my back is also why she clings to the charade. Dirty or not, Harris Sung’s good side is where you want to be. And I play along because she’s one of the most popular girls at Galileo High. It’s one of Dad’s teachings: Standing close counts almost as much as standing tall.

The blond boy beside Susan—some junior on the football team and her cousin—charges to the front of the group. “I’m Patrick Wood,” he announces. “My father’s Peter Wood, chairman of the San Francisco Chamber of Commerce. He’s running for mayor, and he’s real close with Governor Andrews.”

The bouncer barks out a laugh. “Kid, I don’t give a damn who your old man is.”

But I do.

I cinch the sash of my skirt to accentuate my waist and stride up. “They’re with me,” I say, looking the burly bouncer in the eye. Surprise flickers across Susan’s face, but she recovers quickly.

Lifting her chin to match my stance, she loops her arm through mine, just like the best pals we are at school. “You heard my girl,” she sniffs, already sweeping past the velvet rope. “We’re going in with her.”

I lead them to a reserved table on the outskirts of the dance floor just big enough to fit Susan, Patrick, and their hangers-on. Most of them are juniors I barely recognize, boys with pomaded hair and eager smiles. I’ve flirted with a few in the past to get help on homework. But tonight I have bigger fish to fry.

“How about some drinks?” I offer. “Something strong to kick off winter break right.”

Getting Patrick past the rope is only half the job. I need him relaxed, loose-lipped enough to let slip something that might be worth taking to Dad.

“Man, I’d kill for a Schlitz,” Patrick says. “But what if the guy at the bar checks our IDs? I’m not up for strike two tonight.”

“I can convince them to look the other way.” I flash a smile. “And the drinks are on the house. Let’s go with the Midnight Lotus, the signature kicker here.”

Also one of the strongest pours on the menu. Perfect for loosening Patrick’s tongue.

“Oh, Susan,” I add sweetly, catching her just as she’s about to take the vinyl chair beside Patrick, “why don’t you give me a hand? No way can I carry a tray that full in heels.”

The moment she stands, reluctance written all over her face, I toss my coat onto the chair, staking my claim. To pump Patrick for information, proximity is key.

As we weave through the crowd toward the bar, I let Susan ramble on about her winter break plans—something about her aunt’s place in Belvedere and a lad from Lowell High who’s absolutely besotted with her. I nod along, just enough to keep her talking—until she stops short.

“Is that Zachary Ren?” she blurts.

Heat spikes in my chest before the words even fully register.

My gaze snaps to the tall, lean figure behind the bar.

For a moment, the room blurs. The rise of the club singer’s voice, the laughter threading through sultry jazz, the lanterns casting drowsy shadows over ink-brushed murals—it all fades beneath the thunder of my heartbeat.

It’s him, all right. Zachary hefts a crate of bottled beer over one shoulder like it weighs nothing. His black shirt clings to his back, damp with sweat, sleeves rolled to the elbows. The golden glow of the lantern overhead glances off his tanned skin, catching in the hollow of his throat. His hair’s soaked through, plastered to his forehead, but the curve of his jaw is still unmistakable even after four years.

“Do you know him well?” Susan bumps my shoulder. “Can you introduce us?”

“Why would I know him well?” I snap, the words hitting the air before I can soften them. There’s no reason for Susan to think so. While I’ve glimpsed Zachary on occasion in school, we’ve stuck to our unspoken agreement: I pretend he doesn’t exist, and he returns the favor. Hard to believe we once sat beneath a Ping-Pong table in the Y and I made him pinkie swear we’d go to the same high school.

“Because, you know”—she shrugs—“you’re both Chinese.”

I bite back a scoff. Be nice, I tell myself. She and her cousin might know something I can bring back to Dad.

“Can you talk to him for me?” Susan asks hopefully. “He’s real cute, and I heard he topped our class again this term.”

A sour twist coils in my gut. I know exactly how smart Zachary Ren is—probably better than anyone. After that botched job four years ago, East Phoenix scouts pieced it together: The Dragons hit Old World Antiques as a trial for a new soldier, who proved himself by cracking the security clean. As soon as I heard, the sting of recognition pierced me. All those afternoons Zachary helped me with my science homework, all the radios and toasters he fixed up for resale. I’d seen his talent firsthand. I just never imagined I’d be on the wrong end of it.

“Of course,” I say, smile taut. “Wait here.”

He’s still lugging a case of beer when I approach, too focused to notice me at first. I cross my arms, tapping one heel against the floor to get his attention.

His gaze lifts slowly. It skims from my ankle up my leg, finally landing on my face. My skin prickles with a strange heat. The years have carved away Zachary’s baby fat, leaving behind leaner, sharper features: his cheekbones more chiseled, his eyes darker under hooded lids.

A pang hits me—sharp, sweet, and entirely unwelcome. This is the closest I’ve been to him in four years. We once vowed to sneak into a nightclub together before we turned eighteen—back when the idea of dancing in the smoky darkness felt like the height of rebellion. I remember fretting over what I’d say if the bouncer let me in too easily, how I’d explain away the special treatment. Back then, Zachary didn’t know the weight my last name carried, and I didn’t want him to.

Zachary straightens, a bead of sweat cutting down his cheek. “What’s the Phoenix Princess doing here? Does the club know there’s an underage girl sneaking in?”

A jolt runs through me. I’d almost forgotten the sound of his voice—low and steady, but deeper now, edged with a bite meant just for me.

“And does the club know there’s an underage boy working behind the bar?” I fire back. I know the underworld calls me the Phoenix Princess; it comes with being the only child of the East Phoenix boss. Most use it in reverence. My former friend spits it like a curse.

His grin tilts, lazy and a little sharp. “A guy’s gotta earn his keep. You gonna rat me out, Princess?”

I stiffen. In our world, there’s nothing worse than being labeled a rat.

“Are you going to rat on me?” I retort.

He leans in just enough for me to catch a familiar trace of pine beneath the heat and sweat—so he’s still using the same talcum powder, then. “Pretty sure the club already knows you’re here. You don’t exactly blend in.” His eyes flick to the emerald sash at my waist. “Which means someone dropped their name to get through the door.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I demand.

He shrugs, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. “What do you want from me, Princess? I’m guessing you aren’t here to say hi and catch up on the last four years.”

Before tonight, the last words we shared were in the antiques store—his hand over my mouth as gunfire split the air. I never spoke to Zachary Ren again after that. If it weren’t for his interference, my first—and only—job might’ve enjoyed a different ending.

Still, in the months that followed, there were nights I burned to confront him. To demand answers. To make sense of how someone I thought I knew down to the bone turned out to be just as steeped in secrets as I was. But I didn’t. Couldn’t. He was a Dragon, I was the Phoenix boss’s daughter, and lines carved by blood and blade aren’t meant to blur. The one stroke of luck is that none of the Phoenixes ever uncovered our history—or it would’ve gutted their respect for my father, barely a year into his reign then and still clawing to prove he belonged at the top.

“Never mind,” I snap, already turning around. Forget sucking up to Susan; nothing will make me lower my pride enough to ask a Dragon for a favor—especially him. “I’ll let you get back to work, tough guy.”

“And I’ll let you get back to having fun with your friends,” he calls after me, voice light but laced with something colder. “Have a good time, Princess.”

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘Heirs of Infamy’ by Kyla Zhao appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Just the Good Parts by Robbie Couch, which releases on October 13th 2026.

Caspen Coolsby’s dad is missing. But even though it’s only been a few months, everyone has given up on finding him. Except for Caspen.

He finally gets a break in the case when he meets his new upstairs neighbors and discovers he can somehow transport himself into each of the college students’ memories using candle scents that remind them of important moments. No one loved candles more than his dad, so Caspen is sure there must be clues pointing toward where to find him hidden in the memories.

His thinking hits a snag, though, when a handsome boy named Lars keeps popping up in memories where he also doesn’t belong. As the lines between memory and reality begin to blur, Caspen can’t help but fall for the mysterious boy who keeps chipping away at the rose-colored lens he’s always seen life through. But will Caspen be able to find his dad and his crush outside of these stolen moments if it means reliving the hard truths of his past and not just the good parts?

Loading…

Taking too long?

Reload document

| Open in new tab

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘Just the Good Parts’ by Robbie Couch appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from The Blood Queen by Sara Raasch and Beth Revis, which releases on October 6th 2026.

Alyth and Samson finally know the identity of the High Blade, leader of the bloodthirsty Red Cap army, and it’s someone they never suspected. They’ll use every bit of courage, smarts, and luck they have to escape her grasp and flee to the fae court, where they hope to find aid in the fight against the Red Caps.

But the fae princes have been apathetic since the Faerie Queen disappeared years ago at the hands of the High Blade. They seem unwilling to help. And if they find out Samson’s true identity, he’ll be killed and Alyth banished.

Alyth and Samson can only depend on each other and their love as they navigate fae politics, try to win allies, search for the missing queen, and face down the greatest threat the two worlds have ever known.

EXCERPT

1

SAMSON

December 1566

Scotland

All my life’s been spent manipulating or lying. Playing on sympathies to beg food off the gullible in Southwark while I picked their pockets, running cons on marks my father sent me after to steal fae magic items, even lying to myself. I’m not scared. I’m not lonely. I’m not hungry. I’m not tired. I’m not any of a dozen different weaknesses that’d see me dead in a place like London’s slum.

Eighteen years, I’ve been lying as easy as breathing.

And it’s all been training for right now.

The horse I was given sways in line with the rest, and I rock with it, huddling tight into my cloak against the bitter Scottish wind. Morning’s barely crested, but the rising of the sun did nothing to chase off winter’s determination; icy air pelts us from one angle, then the next, lashing our group of riders like beats from a whip. The people around me curse it and burrow in their own cloaks, but the fabric gets tugged away, snatched out of grasping fingers and twisted around their bodies like the wind itself is raging against them.

Furtively, I twist in my saddle, faking like I’m looking up and down the line of riders.

Two behind me on a horse connected to Cecil’s by a lead, Alyth lies across the saddle like chattel, her body still bound in some awful spell that makes her immobile. Her head’s down, the hood of her cloak hanging over her, hiding her face.

Seeing her like that, restrained and silent, digs into my belly like a thorn. Every memory I’ve got of her, she’s a force stronger than nature.

So seeing her as a prisoner?

It’s taking everything in me not to blow our cover.

I watch her now, waiting for a detail I saw a few hours back. Or rather didn’t see: The wind isn’t whipping at her.

I turn forward again.

That’s a small comfort. One tiny glowing spark in my otherwise dead, cold, and banked soul: We aren’t alone. The fae, they must know what’s happened to Alyth. They’re helping her. This winter gale has got to be Beira, the Winter Queen we met in the goblin market. She’s protecting Alyth but tearing up a good storm around the rest of us.

Around the Red Cap army.

Hail stings my cheeks, and I flinch at the bite, but when the Red Caps riding around me curse louder in complaint, I settle in my saddle, calm washing over me.

Alyth’s a captive of the Red Caps, the vicious, bloodthirsty berserkers exiled from the fae realm.

I’m lying for both of us by pretending to be the proper and obedient Red Cap son my father expects of me.

But we aren’t alone.

I stare down at the balled pieces of hail that gather on my gloves, tiny, crystalline promises. I hope they’re promises at least. Promises that Beira’ll help us. Promises that we’ll have allies to run to.

To run at all, I gotta get Alyth out of Cecil’s clutches.

My hand clenches into a tight fist. I breathe deep of the frigid, cutting air.

And look ahead at the gray horizon bringing us closer and closer to meeting the High Blade.

It takes the rest of the day, riding through increasingly angry winds, stopping twice and listening to Cecil’s brigands moan and grumble about the weather, before we make it to a castle far south. Not back in England but close enough to the border it’s nearly in that disputed no-man’s-land. So when we see a massive group around the castle, I think they might be bands of the roving mercenaries that pick through the area.

The closer we get, the more details congeal. Not mercenaries.

An English army.

Sunset’s wrapping up the whole of the land in ribbons of navy blue and snow-swollen gray by the time Cecil leads us past the army and through the castle’s gate.

Alyth’s upright on her saddle now. Has been since the first break, sitting tall and regal, every bit the barrier guardian she was born to be, though she’s gotta be exhausted. We’ve both been up for two days now, what with the husband of Mary, Queen of Scots, going stark ravin’ and getting his estate blown sky-high. Alyth’s gaze is as frigid as the wind; she’s glowering at any of Cecil’s soldiers who get too close to her, and most keep their distance. She’s still in a binding spell, her arms stiff at her sides, her face pulsing every so often in a repressed grimace.

As we dismount and one of the soldiers hauls Alyth down none too gently, she stumbles, hitting the ground on her knees with a hiss of pain.

Laughter rings out.

Every one of these people riding with Cecil is a Red Cap, and I know because I’ve seen copies of that necklace, the one that stifles magic, on them. I wore one to get through the magic barrier that previously kept all Red Caps out of Scotland. But Cecil’s people have it pinned to their belts like trophies, proudly bearing the symbol that shows they outsmarted Alyth’s fae court.

Every one of them could flip into a raging monster at the slightest provocation.

Every one of them could go feral and bloodthirsty in a snap.

Including me.

I lean against my horse, eyes on Alyth, seeing her, but seeing spots of black too. Speckles like the snow that’s falling, only it’s rage dusting across my vision.

My muscles are cramped from holding myself back this whole ride. Every flare of anger and worry and grief has been packed in a neat little box and set deep, deep in my gut, and seeing her on the ground, on her knees in front of these bloody fools, has that box swelling, breaking, straining.

They’re hurting her.

Not days ago, I found out I’m a monster. One of these damned Red Caps bent on invading the fae realm, the type of fae that feasts on havoc. I’m a monster.

But I’m her monster now. The rage, the blackouts, the bloodlust—it’s all hers.

Alyth looks up. Her eyes meet mine across the stable yard, and she’s wearing a mask, like mine. Hiding behind her facade, like I am.

She holds my gaze a beat longer than either of us should, her gaze on me tactile.

It’s command enough.

The rage settles. A simmer, not a boil.

Not yet. Not yet.

Cecil slaps my shoulder, making me bite back a snarl. “Come, Samson.” To the soldiers, “Bring the girl.”

Someone hefts Alyth to her feet. “C’mon, barrier bitch,” he taunts.

I’m walking toward him before I can think it through. Alyth’s eyes briefly widen when I slam both fists into the soldier’s chest and send him toppling onto the cobbled ground.

“Mine,” I bark.

It echoes through the stable yard. The Red Cap soldiers pause around me; even the winter wind calms a bit, listening.

And behind me, Cecil’s watching. Has been watching. Will keep watching.

Not yet.

I grab Alyth’s arm and face my father. “She’s mine to present to the High Blade,” I say through my teeth.

Cecil doesn’t react for a drawn-out beat. Neither do any of his soldiers. The one I knocked to the ground stays there, scowling up at me.

One word, and I’d be in a binding spell just like Alyth. That won’t do a lick of good in helping her escape.

So I hold my father’s eyes and hope he interprets my rage as righteous.

Cecil nods, thoughtful. “Bring her,” he says again, and he walks off into the stone castle.

The Red Cap I shoved scrambles up and catches my shoulder with his as he passes, but I’m braced, expecting the attack.

I don’t even look at him as I pull Alyth after Cecil. None of them matter.

We duck inside a hall, the dark stones swallowing the last of the feeble light outside, the air so cold our breath mists. A wall sconce flickers a ways down, highlighting Cecil as he marches ahead. A few soldiers follow us, but they’re paces back.

Alyth and I are as alone as we’re likely to be.

The stone echoes though. Footsteps ring off the walls, and our harsh breaths rebound like a roar.

I run my thumb in circles on Alyth’s arm, soaking up that contact, trying to reassure her through touch.

“Alyth,” I risk the whisper. I just want—just need something.

She walks alongside me, chin level, silent, not even glancing at me. My chest sinks; she knows this is the game I have to play, doesn’t she? She has to know I’m hers now, even now, especially now—

After a few more steps, she lists toward me like she stumbled, pressing her body against mine in the narrow hall. Her eyes fly to mine, her expression opening like a door flooding a room with sunlight, yearning and comfort flaring deep inside her.

“Partridge,” she whispers.

My brain flounders. What’s she—

I damn near forgot. The bird signals, the ones I used back in Southwark that I taught her.

Partridge means all clear. Everything’s fine.

She’s fine.

That’s a lie, but it’s the most she can do right now.

I pulse my fingers on her arm, telling her I understand. Hoping she understands too—I’ll get her out of this. I’ll keep her safe. I’ll—

Cecil pushes open a heavy wooden door, and the castle’s great hall unfolds around us.

Excerpted from The Blood Queen by Sara Raasch & Beth Revis, Copyright © 2026 by Sara Raasch and Beth Revis. Published by Sourcebooks

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘The Blood Queen’ by Sara Raasch and Beth Revis appeared first on The Nerd Daily.