Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from But I Hate Him by Page Powars, which releases on August 25th 2026.

Rory is academic royalty.

As the heir to the most successful tutoring company in the world, he can be nothing less than perfect if he wants to gain his parents’ approval. So it’s simple. Rory studies harder than anyone else. He does not make mistakes. And he never loses.

Except to Luca Melendez. The infuriatingly good-looking hockey player who wins every academic competition without even trying.

When Rory has a very public meltdown, throwing a smoothie at Luca and shattering his own public image in the process – it feels like one more thing Luca ruined.

To salvage his reputation, Rory has his sights set on winning the most cutthroat academic camp in the country, BRAIN. There is nothing standing between Rory and the final medal.

Until, Luca Melendez shows up.

This means war and Rory has the perfect plan: Make Luca fall in love with him.

And then break Luca’s heart right before the final competition.

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The post Read An Excerpt From ‘But I Hate Him’ by Page Powars appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Rootbound: A Tangled Novel By Margaret Owen, which is out now.

A cunning king. A devious princess. Best. Week. Ever.

Rapunzel knows nothing about her neighboring kingdom, Astera – and not just because she only left her tower a month ago. The famously reclusive island has limited its contact with outsiders for decades. So when a suspicious invitation arrives welcoming Rapunzel to the Asteran princess’s coming of age ceremony, and offering her a chance to be useful for the first time since she lost her healing powers, Rapunzel accepts – and unwittingly plunges herself and her companion, Eugene, into a tangled knot of political intrigue and magical secrets.

Eugene is just happy to get one last adventure with Rapunzel before his criminal background catches up with him and prevents their happy ending. Yet as they’re drawn further into the country’s problems, they uncover truths about Eugene’s parentage that point to deeper unrest in Astera, and suddenly the fate of their own kingdom, not just their personal dreams, is at stake.

Thrust into a power struggle between Astera’s beloved princess, Verette, its domineering king, Enver, and a mysterious secret society, Rapunzel and Eugene race to protect their home from an unsettlingly familiar threat and discover that the past can either hold them back, or help them blossom.

EXCERPT

When Eugene joins her at the bow, she’s outlined the caravel and is searching for the proper slate gray for the base layer of the hull. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she says as he leans against the railing next to her.

“Funny thing is, I’d probably sleep right through it if you were stomping,” he admits, rubbing his face. “Sneaking by might as well be an alarm bell. Everything okay?”

“I had a bad dream.” She finds her gray, but can’t make herself set it to paper just yet. “Can . . . can I ask you something?”

“Fire away.”

“Does it bother you that . . .” She swallows. “That if you hadn’t been rescued in time . . . that you almost . . .”

His hand brushes his throat, and she knows he understands.

“Yes,” Eugene allows. A layer of veneer strips off; Rapunzel enjoys his attempts at charm and bravado, but this is the Eugene she likes best. “But also—no. You don’t do things like rob the royal palace without knowing the risks. There’s no rush without them. And a month ago, my life was the only thing I really had to gamble.” His voice catches. “So now the gallows just remind me how much more I have to lose.”

Rapunzel stows her pastel stick as the ship crests a strong wave. Finding the words feels harder than picking the right blue. “It doesn’t feel right,” she says slowly. “You didn’t even get a trial. You were almost killed just for stealing a—an expensive hat that belonged to the wrong family. I know everyone loves my parents. It just scares me that I’m going to have that kind of power to hurt people. That I might make a mistake. Especially since I can’t . . . fix it anymore.”

Eugene’s hand catches hers, and she realizes she was picking at the ends of her hair again.

“I would like to remind you we’re on a ship to fix something right now,” he says, droll. “And the king and queen aren’t liked because they’re perfect. They’re liked because they try to take care of their people, not just rule over them. They’ve opened and funded schools, libraries, clinics . . . even my orphanage would have shut down without the royal grants. You’ve only known you’re a princess for a month. Maybe now is when you figure out what kind of princess you want to be.”

Rapunzel moves his hand to her cheek. “Is this still your dream, Eugene?”

For a moment, he looks—almost like he’s holding something back.

But maybe it’s the kick of the breeze, the shift of the dark, the echo of Gothel sneering Really, Rapunzel?

“All of it and more,” he says. Then he brings his lips to hers, and everything, even the doubt, fades away.

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘Rootbound: A Tangled Novel’ by Margaret Owen appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from My Own Kind of Person by Tim Manley, which releases on September 8th 2026.

Sean O’Brien copes with anxiety by being the funny guy—at school, in his relationships, and onstage at local open mics. But when his stand-up act starts feeling like a performance of someone he’s not, everything changes. As Sean struggles with awkward girlfriend encounters and rising panic, he meets Elijah, a new guy with quiet confidence and an honesty Sean has never allowed himself. Suddenly, Sean’s life, his comedy, and his self-awareness come into sharper focus.

With wit and emotional depth, My Own Kind of Person explores the courage it takes to speak your truth—even when your voice shakes.

EXCERPT

“When I was a kid, a girl would tell a guy she liked him by being mean to him and beating him up.” I hold the microphone tight and plant my feet center stage. “And let’s just say all the girls loved me.”

A couple of people laugh but there’s only a couple of people here, so maybe it counts as the crowd going wild. Maybe I am bringing down the house at the open mic night at McGuinn’s, the comedy club behind the McDonald’s across the street from the airport.

“There was one girl I had a secret affair with. Secret because it was only when the teacher wasn’t looking that she’d kick me in the shins.” I look wistfully at the lights. “That girl struck fear into my heart and urine into my pants.”

A little more laughter.

“She would knock me down and kick at my special area until I was numb. Then she’d roar and go, ‘You had enough?!’ And I’d respond—” I mime removing a cigarette from my pocket, lighting it, and taking a long drag. “‘Give me five minutes. I can go again.’ ”

Louder laughter.

“Thanks very much! My name is Sean O’Brien.”

I fumble to get the mic into the stand and I step down and walk to the back of the dark room.

An old lady turns in her chair. “Great job.”

“Thank you!”

The host, a retired firefighter named Bobby Bingo, takes the stage. He has thinning hair and wears a T-shirt with a bald eagle clutching a fire helmet. All his jokes are about the length of his hose.

“Give it up for Sean. For someone with such skinny arms, that kid has big balls.” This gets a lot of laughs. “Monthly showcase is next week. Top up-and-coming comics. Catch them here before they get big and have to be careful what they say.”

The house lights come up. The performers greet friends with handshake-claps and half-hugs. At the center table, my best friend Tony carefully removes his phone from the little tripod he used to film me. Beside him my other best friend Andi takes out a stick of gum and folds it into their mouth. You need to bring two paying guests to get onstage, and Tony and Andi dropped everything the second I asked.

I wasn’t planning on coming tonight at all, but when the rest of the night with Christy didn’t go as I dreamed it would, or reasonably hoped it would, or feared it possibly could, I felt so ashamed that I couldn’t stay in my bedroom. I couldn’t stay within a ten-mile radius. There was still time to make it to the open mic, so I begged Tony and Andi to attend as a not-yet-belated birthday present.

I’d rather not think about it, but suffice to say that instead of losing my virginity I had a minor, casual, extremely severe panic attack.

For some comics, getting onstage is a way to speak the truth and process what’s happening in their lives. They turn their tragedy into comedy in real time. I’m the opposite. I don’t want to process how spectacularly I just failed to have sex. I don’t want to ever tell anyone about it. And there is no feeling like making a room of strangers laugh. An hour ago I was a complete failure. Now I can do anything.

I take out my phone to send Christy a quick message, but my breath catches and my thumbs stop. Maybe I can’t do anything.

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘My Own Kind of Person’ by Tim Manley appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from A (Dead) Thing Like Me by E.G. Young, which releases on August 18th 2026.

One hot dog with banana peppers. That’s all Hot Dog wants. An invisible teenage ghost, she haunts a food cart outside the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Until one night, she’s accidentally summoned via Ouija board to a house party in Florida . . . where finally finally finally, people can see her.

All the party guests scatter, except for Logan: the cool artist girl who doesn’t just see Hot Dog, she actually wants to talk to her. Logan, who isn’t scared of Hot Dog’s stitched mouth or chattering dress. Logan, who’s grieving her own dead BFF—and called Hot Dog by mistake.

Hot Dog wants to prove it’s not a mistake.

She can be Logan’s new best friend. She can go to Logan’s Halloween party. She can eat snacks, have sleepovers, and hang out. She can definitely smile without scaring people. Exactly like a real, human girl.

There’s one problem: Hog Dog’s not a real, living human girl, and something in Logan’s sprawling house knows it. It scratches like rats in the walls. It opens a secret door in Logan’s attic. It wants to drag Hot Dog into the nothingness where dead things go. And unless Hot Dog can confront the dark truth of how she died, it will unmake Logan too.

Gorgeously strange and stunningly written, this YA paranormal masterfully melds camp and creep into a beyond-the-grave coming-of-age.

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Excerpt from A (Dead) Thing Like Me by E.G. Young. Text copyright © 2026 by Emily Grace Young. Reproduced with permission from Holiday House Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. 

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘A (Dead) Thing Like Me’ by E.G. Young appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Nest of Tongues by Randy Ribay, which releases on August 18th 2026.

As Filipino vampires known as manananggal, Lily and her brother Caleb understand the value of a secret. After all, to hide is to survive. To lie is to live. They’d never harm another person-but people only believe their worst fears around creatures of myth. So, the siblings stay quiet. They follow their community’s rules.

Until a monster hunter turns up and kills a fellow manananggal anyway.

Until Caleb is marked as the hunter’s next prey.

Suddenly, he and Lily realize there’s always been more at stake than the lives of their people. Because when doing everything “right” is still a death sentence, what can they take as truth? As the hunter nears, the siblings must decide if they’ll be driven from the only home they’ve ever known . . . or fight to protect a community that may already be lost.

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Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from The Killing Rules by Bree Despain, which is out now.

For the past three years, she’s been one of the Blood Bound—girls and women cursed with a bloodlust only satisfied by killing terrible men. Once every three months, she trades in her pom-poms for a lethal throwing axe. Her life is led by a strict set of rules to keep her dark secret as hidden as the bodies she buries.

And her number one rule? Stay away from Grayson Jones.

The boy she was totally falling for until the night her curse manifested, everything went horribly wrong, and she killed his father. It was self-defense. Or at least that’s what she keeps telling herself.

Grayson is an investigative reporter for their school paper, and he’ll stop at nothing to find the truth behind his father’s gruesome death.

As he follows new clues down darker and darker paths—to an unbelievable world of mythical beasts and the men who hunt them—Grayson doesn’t realize he’s on a collision course with Harper’s biggest secrets. Now, she must stop him before he exposes her family to the Hunters, even if it means risking her life and heart.

Because who could ever love a monster like her?

EXCERPT

Chapter One
Harper

My cheer uniform is the icing on the damsel-in-distress cake. Despite the chill in the sea-salty air, I hitch my skirt a little higher on my hips so the hem barely covers my spankies.

Then I wait.

On a secluded, forest-lined road, I watch as an older man rounds the corner, walking his dog in my direction. Right on time.

I lean under the open hood of the beat-up Toyota sedan I’ve “borrowed” for the evening, peer cluelessly at the engine, and let out a frustrated sigh as soon as the man is within earshot. His file says he passes this way, headed to a deserted dog park, at half past ten every night with his cockapoo, Skipper.

“You need help, little lady?” the man asks as he approaches with shuffling steps.

I look up and pretend to be surprised, as if I only just noticed him, then switch to a relieved smile, making sure my curls bounce just so. “Yes, I do. Wow, I’m so lucky you’re here.” Laying the helplessness on thick. “Thank you so much.”

Shocker, he actually maintains eye contact. Most of them don’t bother controlling their lurid glances at my clearly teenaged ass.

“Let me see if I can get you moving again.” The man, whose name is Emmit—but he doesn’t know I know that—hunches his shoulders and gives me a reassuring, grandpa-like smile, keeping his eyes fixed on mine.

Someone else might buy into his act. But I’ve studied this man closer than most of my textbooks. Emmit is one of those guys who wears the mask so well, people truly believe he’s one of the good ones. I know better.

“Sweet girl like you shouldn’t be out on this road alone at night,” he says, his voice dripping with concern.

“Oh, I wasn’t alone. Not at first.”

Emmit moves closer to look at the engine. “You come from the football game?” he asks, nodding toward my Cliffside Sirens cheerleading jacket.

“Yep.” I sniff, feigning a shiver in the cold night air. “I was following the away team’s bus, and this happened.” Two truths and a lie.

I wave my hand at the car that appears stalled on the empty, eucalyptus-lined road. The woods smell pungent and medicinal, like the balm Nana used to rub on my chest when I had a cold. Back when I was still a normal kid . . .

The man gives a concerned whistle. “That’s a long walk back to Cliffside.”

We’re in Sandy Creek, California, an hour’s drive from the sleepy Central Coast town I call home. Even so, it’s closer than I’d usually go for this sort of thing. Still far enough out that I’m not breaking any rules, though.

Any of my rules, that is.

“It’s good you came along, then.” I give him my best you’re my hero smile.

“Call anyone?” he asks, even closer now. He leans past me as he checks a valve, exposing his jugular.

Little Skipper pulls on his lead, whining, clearly wanting to continue on with his walk.

“Quiet!” Emmit snaps, yanking the leash, and I wince as the points of a pronged collar dig into the pup’s tender flesh. The “nice guy” mask is slipping.

“Phone’s dead.” I sigh. As if it’s not exactly what he wants to hear.

“Too bad.” He laughs under his breath. And just like that, the Good Samaritan act vanishes altogether. He drops the cockapoo’s leash and grabs my upper arms, pinning them to my sides in a vise-like grip.

I feign surprise just long enough for him to pull me up against him, close enough to hear the blood coursing through his veins. His rhythmic pulse calls to a familiar strength, tightening my muscles.

He’s stronger than I expected. Probably younger, too. His shuffling steps and hunched shoulders had been part of the mask, a way to make girls feel more comfortable around him. Like those girls from the summer camp he manages—the ones who came home older, angrier than when they arrived.

And now it’s time to show him what a girl can really do.

I break free from his grasp and shove him hard against the front of the car. His backside slams onto the hood.

He sputters and swears. Slowly, I reach back into my letterman’s jacket and pull a fourteen-inch-long throwing axe from the magnetic harness on my back. Emmit’s eyes go wide, his body frozen in place, making it too easy to press the blade against his pale, white throat, deliciously close to an artery.

“I said I wasn’t alone. Meet my friend Lizzie.”

“Little bitch,” he spits. He moves his arm like he might make another grab at me, this time in anger, but I’m quicker.

I slide Lizzie’s sharpened edge against his throat, drawing blood. Just a nick. A warning. It’s nothing compared to what comes next. Panic flashes in the man’s eyes. He calls me all sorts of horrible names as he presses his hand over the weeping wound. It must sting like hell.

Skipper barks, but he doesn’t intervene to help his cruel owner. Good boy.

The smell of Emmit’s blood sends a bubbly, euphoric sensation rushing through my veins. My vision blurs for just a moment as once-dull colors brighten in the dark. The smell of the forest engulfs me, and my head feels light as a feather. It’s intoxicating, but I’m careful not to go for the artery just yet. A gusher would be messy, and I can’t meet up with the cheer squad looking like I’ve just committed a murder.

Still, the red of his blood sets me off. Fibers and sinew swell until my muscles are taut with strength, quick and agile. Superhuman.

I can tell by the way Emmit looks at me that my face scares him more than the axe now—the glassy look that takes over my eyes when my bloodlust is about to be quenched. His mouth quivers, and he cowers against the front of the car.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he whimpers.

I flinch, a part of me answering to his plea.

The human part, the girl.

Harper.

But even if I wanted to show him mercy . . . once the curse awakens, there’s no turning back. I have no choice but to kill.

I grip my axe tighter, anticipating what comes next. It would be easier to snap his neck and be done with it—but the curse wants blood. Always blood.

“Run,” I growl. I step aside, gesturing toward a path that cuts into the woods.

Emmit scrambles to get away, nearly tripping over his own feet. He sprints onto the narrow path, probably hoping to make it far enough ahead to hide from me. We dodge between tree trunks; he stumbles over roots and sloughed bark.

I’ve always liked the way bark peels from eucalyptus trunks in curling tendrils, like flesh stripped from bone.

But now isn’t the time for taking in the scenery.

I follow at a steady pace, intentionally slower than his, knowing exactly where he’ll end up. And in another moment . . . there it is. The crunch of footsteps on a plastic tarp ahead lets me know he’s reached the right spot. Predators are surprisingly predictable.

With both hands, I pull the axe back over my head, then fling it forward, releasing. My arms swing down and back behind me like I’m the Little Mermaid springing from the sea-­foam—­it’s all about the follow-through—as Lizzie soars through the air, sinking into the middle of his back with a satisfying thunk.

He falls forward, landing face first in the middle of the tarp. He’s still alive, his moaning sobs muffled. Hot rage for the girls he’s hurt—the ones listed in his file—urges me to draw this out. To make it as painful and gory as possible.

But I can’t linger. I can’t let my control slip, or anyone, regardless of their guilt or innocence, could be in danger. I know exactly how much violence is needed to keep my curse at bay without giving into it completely.

Besides, there are good friends and cheesy fries waiting for me at the Shake Ship.

Emmit begs for mercy, his pleas mingled with questions about why I’m doing this. We’re deep enough into the woods that his blubbering won’t draw any attention. I wonder if he thought the same thing about me.

I don’t like seeing my targets’ faces when they know they’re going to die. It gives the bloodlust too much fuel. It claws at me now, anticipating the kill.

My bundle of supplies waits next to the tarp. A green plastic poncho, nitrile gloves, and silicone shoe covers. I pull them on to protect my uniform, sneakers, and hands.

I’m not ruining my matching mani-pedi on this pedo.

Emmit whimpers as I approach him in my cheap plastic getup—not exactly a fashion statement, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

I press one foot into his hip to keep him in place, then pull the axe from his back. The blade wiggles up and down until it dislodges from his spine. He screams, digging his fingers into the tarp as he attempts to crawl away, but Lizzie has made a paralyzing blow. His legs lie limp.

My muscles ache to plunge the weapon into his flesh again and again, but something holds them back. It’s that overriding voice in me—the Harper voice—keeping me in control.

I grab a clump of Emmit’s gray hair and yank his head back a few inches. Then I picture his young victims.

Mira Walley-Purohit, aged twelve. I slot Lizzie into the small wound at his neck.

Taylor Dunn, fourteen. I force my trembling hands to steady.

Simone Kay Jackson. Eleven years old. That was the last summer she wore beads in her hair.

I slit his throat from ear to ear.

Finally, silence.

When I let go, his face flops into the tarp. Blood pools around his head like a halo, and the scent consumes me. I breathe it in, like taking a hit, and let the smell quench the ache that’s been building in me for weeks—to keep the beast locked inside its cage of flesh and bone for another season, until it tries to claw its way out again.

Once the worst of the bloodlust has been satisfied, I need to act fast. The heightened strength and speed that come for the kill will dissipate, and if I don’t dispose of the body before my superhuman abilities fade, I won’t be able to carry it. Leaving evidence behind is strictly against the rules.

Don’t go overboard.

Never leave a mess.

Always check in when you’re done.

The rules keep me safe from the Hunters.

And safe from myself.

I roll Emmit’s body into the tarp with a medical-grade absorbent pad to soak up excess fluids and carry it back to the car. I’ve stuffed it into the trunk, along with a trash bag holding my disposable poncho, gloves, and shoe covers, before noticing the man’s dog.

Skipper is curled up beneath the passenger side, gnawing on his purple leash as if trying to soothe himself. I wonder how much he understands. Enough for guilt to twist my stomach.

“Come on.” I open the passenger door for the dog, and he hops inside. He can probably find his way back the two miles to his home, but there’s a biting chill in the air and the smell of impending rain, and I decide he’s been through enough.

When I slip into the driver’s seat, the dog sidles up to me, as close as he can get, and licks the side of my face.

“Well, hello there, Skipper,” I say and ruffle his fur, careful not to touch the tender spots beneath his choke collar.

“You really are a good boy, aren’t you?” I say.

He lays over the center console and rests his head on my knee as I drive. He’s warm and soft and close—sensations so foreign to me these days. For a moment, I allow myself to remember the old Harper. The one from three years ago, who had sleepovers with her best friend every weekend. Who had a future beyond planning her next kill, and a boy she dreamed about at night . . .

I stop the car a few houses away from Skipper’s home and open my door. He looks up at me with those inquisitive, puppy-­dog eyes.

“It’s okay,” I say. “He’s gone now. And he isn’t coming back.”

Skipper sits up, gives my face another lick, and climbs over my lap and out the car. I watch until he crawls through the doggy door into his house. How will Emmit’s wife feel when she realizes their dog has returned home without him? Free, I hope. Those girls weren’t his only victims.

Fat droplets ping against the plastic tarp and my raincoat as I carry Emmit’s body down the wood-planked path of a nearby wetland marsh. I drove fast enough to make up for lost time, but I didn’t beat the rain. But all the better to conceal my tracks.

I roll the body into a dank, dark crevice deep off the path and cover the opening with loose foliage I’d already stowed there. The stench of sulfur is nearly overpowering here. It will easily mask the smell of a rotting corpse.

I start back toward the stolen Toyota, stretching my arms that had just begun to ache from the weight of the body, when a bolt of lightning cuts across the sky, illuminating the hillside in front of me. For the briefest moment, I see someone on the horizon, crouched under a large bay laurel.

Watching me.

My arm hairs stand on end, and I stiffen defensively, my pulse pounding up into my throat.

A slight, tinny, ringing noise jabs at my eardrums, and I flinch. Who would be out here this late? Some camper who’s accidentally witnessed me disposing of a body? Or worse, a Hunter who’s on my tail? Either way, if I’ve been discovered, it’s all over.

But then a second bolt strikes—and no one is there.

Was it a trick of the light? Or someone who can move as quick as lightning? Someone like me . . .

I use the last of my superhuman speed to dash up the hill to where the watcher had been. If there had been a watcher at all. The area is empty. Just rainwater puddling in the spot where a person might have crouched. A wet squirrel skitters up the laurel, looking for refuge in the storm, and I jump aside.

That’s when I notice it—deep gashes in the tree trunk. As if a mountain lion had used the bark to sharpen its claws.

Nothing to worry about. Just an animal.

Hiking back to the car, I listen closely for any sign that I’m not alone. Nothing went wrong, though. Nobody saw me. I didn’t go too far.

Not like the first time . . .

I shake that invading memory away and focus on the only thing that matters—this kill has earned me three more months of being as human as possible.

I pull my fully functional phone from my pocket and send a text: It’s done.

Now all I need to do to survive the night is make a public appearance with the cheerleading squad, as if this murderous side quest after the football game never happened. And pretend everything is as normal as normal can be.

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘The Killing Rules’ by Bree Despain appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Kitty and Mary by Julia Gray and Imogen Russell Williams, which releases on 10 September 2026.

Six months after Pride and Prejudice, Mary is stuck at home with her parents. So, when an opportunity arises that will take her to far away India, Mary jumps at the chance for independence and adventure.

Meanwhile, Kitty has been flitting between the estates of her sisters, searching for a suitable husband at every ball and dinner. When Mary sets off to India, Kitty’s disappointment at returning home is tempered by the revelation that a new tenant has come to Netherfield Park – handsome poet Mr Whittaker. He seems like the perfect husband for Kitty, but will he end up being everything she hoped?

Through letters and journals we learn to understand and love the forgotten Bennet sisters.

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Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from The Introvert’s Guide to Kissing in Europe by Brenda Janowitz, which releases on August 18th 2026.

Everything in Emily Tannenbaum’s life is going according to plan. Graduate high school as valedictorian? Check. Gain admission to Dartmouth? Check. Decide to pause everything to embark on a gap year adventure abroad? Wait, what?

Ever since her sister died, Emily has done everything in her power to be the good girl, the safe girl, the one her parents don’t have to worry about. She’s worked hard, she’s studied, she’s attended school-approved functions.

But when her grandmother, a former member of the famous Flower Sisters music duo, proposes that Emily take time off to follow the European tour the Flower Sisters took in 1966, Emily impulsively jumps at the chance as a way to embrace the messy and unexpected parts of life.

As she travels from Spain to Sweden with stops in Paris and Rome along the way, Emily begins to experience all that life has to offer. She deals with pickpockets, dances the night away, has her heart broken, and learns more about herself and where she came from than she ever could have imagined.

PREFACE

MADRID, TWO WEEKS LATER

I FELT HIM before I saw him. As I ran down the Metro steps, something in the air shifted. I looked up and I saw him from across the train platform. He and his friends were on the other side, waiting for a train in the opposite direction, but our eyes locked.

He looked familiar, like I’d seen him before. I had an overwhelming feeling of familiarity come over me, like we’d met before. But of course we hadn’t. Because I was not where I was supposed to be at that very moment. I was not even on the same continent where I belonged. I was not at home, and I was not starting my freshman year of college, like all my friends were. Instead, I was in Spain, having impulsively taken a gap year before starting school, and I didn’t know anyone. I barely knew the crew of friends I’d recently met and was traveling with.

He looked like that guy from Emily in Paris, the cute Brit from season two. Even with a straight face, he looked like he was smiling. His face was open and welcoming. Sweet, almost. He had a deep dimple on one of his cheeks, and not on the other. I knew I shouldn’t stare, but he seemed to be staring at me, too.

Behind me, I could hear Mina checking the Metro app on her phone, making sure we were going in the right direction.

“Are you sure this is the right line?” Lina asked.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Mina replied, the slightest bit of annoyance creeping

into her voice.

The guy across the platform raised his eyebrows at me, as if to say hello. Or at least to ask why I was staring. I gave a shy almost smile in return. Not quite a full-on smile, but an acknowledgment. It was my way of saying that I saw him, too. I felt it, too.

Just then, our train rushed into the station with a whoosh. I stood, frozen in place, while my friends all jumped onto it.

“Emily!” Penny called out. “Let’s go!”

I stood frozen, as if in a trance. Was I really going to leave now? Miss my chance to meet this guy? I mean, how often in life do you actually lock eyes with a handsome stranger across a crowded room? Surely the odds of locking eyes from across a crowded Metro station were even lower?

“Emily!” Penny cried out again, her arm against the Metro door to keep it from closing.

I snapped back to reality and ran toward the train. As I tried to jump in, I stumbled, my foot nearly catching on the space between the platform and the train. I struggled to right myself, and Johnny grabbed me and pulled me into the car.

“Mind the gap, sweetheart.”

“What?” I asked. My heart was still racing from my near miss.

“It’s what they say on the London Underground,” he replied in his charming English accent. “Mind the gap. Watch out for the space between the train car and the platform.”

“Oh, in New York, they say ‘Stand clear of the closing doors.’”

“I would never let the doors close on you,” Penny said just as the doors shut.

I looked out the other side of the subway car. Through the window, I saw the cute guy, still waiting on the opposite platform for his train. As he caught my eye again, he raised his hand and gave me a subtle wave. I smiled, but before I could wave back, our train rushed out of the station.

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘The Introvert’s Guide to Kissing in Europe’ by Brenda Janowitz appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Fire to the Stars by Morgan J. Watchorn, which releases on August 4th 2026.

Every month, the kingdom of Florent braces for the Ignition: a solar event that turns ordinary humans into vicious dragon shifters. And anyone can be a dragon’s next victim.

Claire knows this all too well because the Ignition consumed her and her father, her town, and the life she thought she’d have. Now, she’s scraping by on her wits as part of a sisterhood of thieves—lying, stealing, her heart locked tight—until she tracks down a disgraced dragon slayer who may be the one person who can give her back the life she once had.

Abel has been shunned by the prestigious Slayers Guild for conducting research that’s too…unorthodox to condone. But there’s no one Claire trusts more than a rulebreaker, and that research might be the one thing that could help her. So when Abel reveals he is hunting again, Claire tries to hire him under false pretenses. Abel, however, is reluctant to accept a job from a criminal, no matter how charming she is. And yet…he really needs the money.

Together, Claire and Abel will race through Florent and uncover dangerous secrets in their quests for forgiveness—and survival. But that knowledge may cost them the very thing they’ve grown desperate to protect: each other.

EXCERPT

I hear the fire crackling before I see it.

An orange glow rises behind the canopy of brown-gold leaves, a color too high in the sky to mark the impending sunsdown. When Lucy alerts us to the smoke in the air, one word springs to mind:

“Fire!” I shout. “It could be a dragon.”

“Today?” Claire asks, bewildered. “But the Ignition was yesterday—”

“I’ll explain later. Go!” I order, bringing Lucy tight to my chest.

Claire kicks our horses into a gallop, hair streaming behind her. My knees grip the saddle hard.

My experiments on Micah proved that it’s possible for a dragon to retain its form well after Ignition Day. A few moondaggers lodged in the spinal cord will maintain the transformation. But who else aside from me would know how to do that? I never shared the results of my research with another soul.

At the same time, very few fires in Florent get this bad without a dragon involved.

In moments, we break through the trees. The view opens wide.

Ravinfort—home to the Metekus, my second family—is unrecognizable.

To the right, the Tordou River rushes with whitecapped rapids. To the left, the stone buildings carved into the cliffside are black and crumbling. The trim shrubbery burns orange and bright, scorching the dusk chill. The du Fay castle towers on the clifftop, as usual, obvious from the moonmetal spear launchers mounted on the turrets. But flames climb up the ivy on the walls like greedy fingers. Half of the eastern turret falls in a landslide of rubble. The exposed interior walls burn, scorched black.

Our horses tense, heads high, ears forward. Anticipating a spook, I snatch the reins, halting my mare short. Momentum unseats me. I twist my body enough to alter my trajectory and land on my feet instead of my head. It keeps Lucy safe in my arms.

“Ho!” Claire commands, sitting back. Her horse skids to a halt. The lead rope to my horse snaps taut. “Don’t do that! You could injure the horse and yourself.”

I lower Lucy to the ground and slip the pack from my shoulders, drawing a slew of moondaggers, a crossbow, and a quiver of moonmetal-tipped bolts to throw over my back.

“Wait here,” I order. “If you see a dragon, run.”

“A dragon can’t have caused this,” she insists. “Not today. Not even at this hour. The suns are setting.”

“It’s possible. I proved it firsthand.”

Worry gleams like the fire in her eyes. “Proved what, exactly?”

I clench my eyes shut. Breathe deep. Then set the dragon-skull helmet over my head. My eyes open to the view from behind Micah’s open maw.

Claire’s hands are full, so I force my pack into her lap. “Keep this safe.”

She stares at it, as if she can’t believe I’d entrust it to a thief, but secures the pack before it can slip. “You’re not going into that flaming mess alone. Especially not if you think there’s a dragon involved.”

“I won’t be alone. The du Fay family protects this city.”

She squints at the castle. Her concern bleeds into me. On second glance, the tower looks blown out from the inside. Did a du Fay turn? Did they take a dragon captive for experimentation? But the du Fays are one of the oldest slayer families, and sticklers for the rules. They’d never disobey the Slayers Guild, let alone repeat my mistake.

I shake my head. The how can come later. I’m not leaving this to chance. Lyle and his mother aren’t fighters; they’re craftsmen, which means they’re in danger. And if Ravinfort is this far damaged, the du Fays need backup.

Claire tugs my mare’s lead, regaining her attention. “Give me the crossbow. I can support you.”

“No. Take the horses and stay out of the way. I can’t save the Metekus if I’m protecting you.” I stuff the daggers into my belt and load the crossbow. “Lucy, come!”

I sprint down the road and into town, crossbow raised and ready. Lucy bounds at my side. Flames roar and buildings crack. Sweat builds beneath my uniform. Untethered taxi boats clatter together at the river docks, pinned against the cobblestone shoreline. My ears strain for a dragon’s roar, wingbeats, claws on stone, something.

There’s nothing to track.

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Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Alchemy of Souls by Adriana Mather, which releases on August 4th 2026.

Grayson Stone is no stranger to deception. Under the watchful eye of his uncle, the High Chancellor, he has been well-trained in all four types of magic, all while secretly working against his uncle’s corrupt rule. Years of plans depend on him being marked Gifted during his University entrance exam, proving that he is the perfect heir and gaining his uncle’s trust. Unfortunately, things don’t go as planned, and he has only one person to blame: Eloise Belrose.

Raised by a family of Laborers, Eloise is the most unlikely student to become a Mage, but through her hard work and long hours spent practicing she is finally admitted to the prestigious University of Magical Arts, guaranteeing safety and security for her whole family. Until things go very wrong, and she somehow becomes magically linked to Grayson Stone, the school’s arrogant, annoyingly attractive, golden boy, putting not only her University acceptance, but also her and her family’s lives at risk.

Eloise and Grayson are given less than two weeks to solve an impossible mystery—one that will give the High Chancellor even more power and control—or face the consequences. Forced to room together, with all the same classes, while pretending to date to hide their secret quest, sparks definitely fly. As their feelings grow more real it becomes harder to live the lies they’ve had to tell to survive. With time running out, will they be able to trust the bond between them or will their lies tear them apart forever?

Chapter 27
Grayson

11 DAYS TO GO

Eloise’s mixed emotions waft toward me every ten seconds as we rotate through practice stations in Akari’s training class. It’s distracting as hell and I have absolutely no idea what any of it is about. Because Naomi, Ivy, and Bas have been glued to my side and I haven’t been able to shake them.

Until now.

Akari bellows: “Change stations!”

Eloise breaks from Maggie and Adrien and heads for the blades station, a slight limp in her step even with the Ace bandage.

Naomi turns to me and Bas. “Ivy and I are headed to the rock wall. Join us?”

“I actually want to take another go at throwing daggers.” I flash my disarming smile and add, “You’re welcome to join me, though.”

Naomi scrunches her nose. “You know I hate blades.”

Yes, I do know that.

“Same,” Ivy says, as Akari yells at all of us to get a move on.

As the girls walk off, Bas claps me on the shoulder. “See, now that’s the smooth Grayson Stone we all know and love, keeping tabs on Belrose and making time for your friends. Win-win.”

Except there’s nothing winning about it. Naomi still hasn’t told me anything about her intel and Eloise has barely made eye contact with me since I turned down her offer to read last night.

I roll my shoulders out as I cross the room toward the long table littered with weapons. It’s about fifteen feet from the wall lined with bull’s-eyes.

“Tonight, Eloise,” Maggie says like a warning as she walks toward the poisons station. “I don’t care if ye fall over from exhaustion or suddenly contract the plague. No more excuses!”

Eloise winces as her friend walks away. She takes a deep breath and pulls back, launching a dagger right into the bull’s-eye. A damn good shot. She does a quick reset spell with her hands and the dagger floats harmlessly back to the table.

Eloise’s forehead pinches as I slide in next to her, and I can scent her hesitancy.

So, I don’t push. Instead, I lift my own dagger, flipping it in my hand.

Which is why I’m thrown when she leads with: “We need to talk about this fake dating thing.”

My eyebrow arches. “Really? Yesterday I got the impression that you didn’t want to talk about that. Ever.”

She palms a double-sided axe. “Maggie asked me to hang out tonight. Actually, she demanded. Like ten times.”

“And?” I say slowly, knowing I could tell her about the party and that she’s about to get her wish. But I’m curious what she’s going to say.

“And I didn’t know how to respond,” she says. “I can’t lie to her.” She throws the axe with startling speed. It lodges a good inch and a half deep in the center of the target.

“You can’t lie to her?” I repeat, because now I’m lost. “As in physically incapable?”

She turns to face me, batting her hair away from her face like it offends her. “Not incapable . . . just really don’t want to.”

Now I’m even more confused. “You could lose everything if we don’t pull this off.”

“I know that,” she says quickly, and I scent her conflict. “But if I lie to her—who even am I?”

I blink. Twice. Her life is on the line and she’s worried she’ll be a bad person if she lies to her friend? People rarely surprise me, but I think I might currently need assistance picking my chin off the floor.

“What?” she says, and now her conflict is laced with embarrassment.

“No, nothing. I just—how does fake dating solve this exactly?” I ask.

She picks at her nails. “I just thought that, I don’t know, maybe you could . . .” Her embarrassment doubles.

“You thought maybe I could sell it?” I guess, and she flushes.

“Yeah,” she says on an exhale. “Maybe you could do just enough that people assume things? And then when I tell Maggie I’m spending time with you and can’t hang out she’ll understand? But I won’t actually have to lie?”

“What is this thing you have about not lying, anyway?” I ask, intrigued.

She exhales. “Gran always said that if you love someone you don’t lie to them. And I love Maggie.”

And now she’s got me. “Fair enough. I’ll lie for you.”

She winces, like she feels bad, even indirectly.

I smile. “Question, though, should I tell you I was right now or later?”

“Seriously?” she says, completely indignant. “You’re going to gloat?”

“Should I not?”

“Why are you the worst?” she asks, but I don’t scent annoyance from her. In fact, she smells like relief.

“Should we discuss the rules? I mean, you probably want to have rules, right? Unless I should just make them up as I go?” I say, and the pink on her cheeks creeps across her nose.

Her grip tightens on her dagger. “Absolutely no kissing.”

And because I can’t help myself, I ask, “On the mouth or anywhere?”

“Mouth,” she huffs, and throws her dagger. “Cheek and forehead are fine.”

Am I a bad person that I’m enjoying this? “Holding hands?” I ask, and throw a dagger at the target as well, hitting the exact same spot her dagger sticks out of.

She narrows her eyes. “Also fine,” she says. But instead of calling her dagger back to her, she throws another and sticks it into the handle of mine.

I laugh.

“Casual touches?” I ask, and she turns to me.

“Also fine. But under no circumstances are we sitting together at meals. I can’t deal with your friends.”

Same, I think. But what I say is, “I don’t know, I think your friends would really enjoy having me around. Maybe a lot.”

“Grayson,” she warns.

“Claws,” I say back with a grin, and then I wink at her before she sends her dagger flying. And for the first time, she misses the bull’s-eye

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