When not recounting tales of past near-glory, Dorchak reflects on the current ways his body is in revolt. When his wife tells him not to move the “Large, Heavy Thing,” middle age consciousness kicks in, forcing him to wonder if “you’re only trying to move it because you’re afraid to choose the option of getting someone else to do it… that would mean admitting how old and out of shape you are.” He ties earlier youthful adventures to his somewhat wiser escapades as an adult, contemplating the pitfalls of looking back on past decisions. “Poor Life Choices can be made at any age or stage of life” he writes, “but making them when you are younger is advised, so that you learn from them by the time you are older.”
Readers who appreciate tongue-in-cheek humor and healthy doses of self-deprecation will be entertained, though Dorchak does wade into deeper waters at times. In “Taxes and Death,” he reflects on his fraught relationship with his father, distinguished by sharp arguments and years of silence, painting his father’s death in bleak tones—“he all but died alone in the rain like some sort of character out of a Hemmingway novel”—before dredging up his father’s last words to him: “Yeah yeah yeah... love you.” This is a lighthearted reminder of our collective nostalgia for the abandon of youth.
Takeaway: Playful collection of youth’s lighter moments.
Comparable Titles: Dave Barry’s Live Right and Find Happiness, Bruce Sheets’s A Boomer Memoir.
Production grades
Cover: B+
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A
Complicating Charlotte’s sense of new possibilities: the fact that someone seems to be stalking her. DaSilva writes the sweet and sexy tension of new love well, juxtaposing it masterfully with the terrifying tension of being stalked. As the story digs into the mysteries of Jared’s past and Charlotte and Sy’s present, the leads’ attraction to each other proves undeniable, and soon Sy is the person Charlotte calls when she becomes convinced someone is stalking her, following her to her husband's grave, staking out her home, and sneaking into her bedroom at night. Sy, though, fears he might not return from his latest mission in his job, so Charlotte must take matters into her hands.
DaSilva’s slim, fast-moving novel packs a lot of wonderment and hard choices into relatively few pages, with Charlotte facing the question of whether to try to go back to what she once had or take a chance on something new. The speculative premise takes a backseat to the chemistry between the leads, making the novel ideal for romance readers interested in science fiction, military life, and romantic leads who are alpha-male types ready to sweep a lady off her feet and away from her problems.
Takeaway: Paranormal romantic thriller of a woman bereft but manifesting strange powers.
Comparable Titles: Elizabeth Hunter’s Suddenly Psychic, Sue Fortin’s The Dead Husband’s Secret.
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
Middle grade readers will get a kick out of Kuhn’s promising series starter, a riveting blend of sci-fi, technology, and fast-paced thrills. The Monster-bot is just that—a robot Tommy normally keeps caged due to its inclination to destroy all other machinery in its sights—but there’s more to it than meets the eye: it’s harboring Tommy’s specially designed Prometheus Chip, an invention allowing machines independent thought. That alone makes the mission worthwhile, and, as Nate and Tommy set out on a quest to track down the temperamental robot, they quickly learn they aren’t the only ones after such a treasure.
Between the story’s AI robots, a whiz kid, and one brave unlikely hero, readers will be transfixed—and the fun doesn’t stop there. Kuhn ties in a no-holds-barred Great Swamp War—waged by opposing groups of kid gangs—that sees dangerous tech fall into the wrong hands, putting Nate and Tommy’s friendship, and their lives, at risk. Kuhn’s black and white illustrations, reminiscent of comic strips, highlight the story’s more suspenseful moments, helping younger readers soak up the tension radiating from the pages of this high-octane treat. The hijinks are certainly entertaining, and Kuhn’s exploration of what it means to be human—and a good friend—hits home.
Takeaway: Two unlikely friends must save AI-robots from falling into the wrong hands.
Comparable Titles: Peter Brown's The Wild Robot, Eve L. Ewing's Maya and the Robot.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A
Woeppel’s worldbuilding embraces both the silly superhero and summer romance aesthetics in a contemporary setting, with bold characters like Birdie’s sassy gay superhero bestie Jace and new local drama buddy Evie, as well as a collection of hilariously sketched minor characters, many of whom materialize during Birdie’s unsuccessful dates. The banter between Aiden and Birdie shines, both in its initial rudeness and its slow transformation into flirtation, though their actual sexual scenes melt into a more generic desire and lose some of that fizzle. Birdie’s backstory carries weight, but it never dominates, playing out in her memories of her mother’s fear at her daughter’s changes and a sweet 16 romance that foundered amid the discovery of her growing powers.
This is a gentle critique of societal constraints on women’s behavior, and Woeppel’s upbeat message—that accepting yourself, vulnerabilities and all, should be the only goal—broadcasts clearly through Birdie’s ultimate success at finding love while refusing to compromise her own superhuman strength. The transformation she undergoes in her own eyes—and in Chicago’s view—is intense, rendering Aiden’s whispered exhortation to “never let them tame you” a potent reminder of the power that comes with self-discovery.
Takeaway: Playful superhero romance with an undercurrent of feminist empowerment.
Comparable Titles: Alice Winters’s A Villain for Christmas, Laura Thalassa’s Reaping Angels.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
Roberts (author of Last Days of Colbosh) creates a world rich with intergalactic danger and adventure, as the Belt’s crew soon find themselves distracted by a larger threat: the Locorrans, an enigmatic race that look human but somehow aren’t, ruled by a mysterious up-and-coming empress, are quietly taking over the universe, privy to incredibly advanced—and threatening—technology. The action takes off immediately, and Jax is quickly swept into a chaotic conspiracy that finds him separated from his crew and forced to rely on his instincts to survive, joined in his fight by Jules, a young woman with insider knowledge that suggests the Locorrans can control brainwave patterns of the people living in Earth’s colonized systems.
Power Play’s world is both entertaining and absorbing, boosted by a host of high-tech weapons and the downfall of Earth as we know it, thanks to a Great War that left the planet reeling from radiation poisoning and terrorized by animals evolving into monsters. The thrills are sometimes restrained by plot developments that snowball with minimal buildup and empty references to an older Earth that most of the book’s characters no longer remember, but this still reverberates as an electrifying journey of self-discovery—and a reminder of the dangers behind creating sentient beings with superior intelligence.
Takeaway: Absorbing sci-fi riddled with intergalactic intrigue and dangerous, power-hungry AI.
Comparable Titles: Penelope Wright’s The Queen Trials series, T. Ellery Hodges’s The Never Hero.
Production grades
Cover: B+
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: B
Marketing copy: A
Despite the novel’s economic impetus, Win Condition is brisk, exciting, and suspenseful, thick with detestable villains (especially Char’s First Citizen Violet, who will kill anyone to maintain her power), uneasy allies (like Arrow’s BreakPoint mentor, Sage), and imaginative BreakPoint opponents (especially BRAID, an AI whose “simmed hostility towards humans faded by 5%” after learning it has a human fan.) Among vivid depictions of a radically unequal society and the hedonistic festival the First Citizen throws to distract the unwashed masses, Arrow faces a host of factions, including coup-plotters led by Sage, the underground group who keep the foundational spirit of cryptocurrencies alive, and Arrow’s lovable online friend group, without whom “she wasn’t sure she’d fully exist.”
BreakPoint itself, unfortunately, is somewhat vague, with matches described more than suspensefully dramatized, and a plot point involving a ginned-up prophecy is too quickly glossed over. But, for all Win Condition’s hefty length, Schultz keeps the story moving with purpose and excitement, all powered by a palpable love for freedom.
Takeaway: Epic dystopian adventure of online games, inequality, and crypto freedom.
Comparable Titles: Philip Charter and Niko Laamanen’s 21 Futures: Tales from the Timechain, Ramez Naam’s Nexus.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A
Ridley keeps readers guessing throughout this twisty satire, starting with Damien’s best friend, “B,” who chronicles their whirlwind friendship-to-roommates journey—one that ended when their codependency started to interfere with B’s love life. B’s girlfriend, Lily, is also gifted a voice, presenting Damien as overprotective and his relationship with B as “weird… like, an obsessive need or compulsion toward each other.” Ridley crafts an intense picture of Damien’s friend group from there, each with their own axe to grind, and many who caustically observe the unhealthy nature of Damien and B’s relationship. That red herring merits further investigation, though, as the story revolves around several suspects, each more believable than the last.
Every character’s thoughts on Damien, who might have killed him, and on each other are alternately funny and sad, painting a portrait of a troubled young man desperately searching for belonging. Even B, in her own flippant style, recounts the woes of Damien skipping from boyfriend to boyfriend with a touch of melancholy, reflecting on his loneliness and vulnerability, while Damien himself comments “I [knew] better than to let myself end up this way.” This will appeal to readers who aren’t afraid of the hard work that comes with solving a good mystery.
Takeaway: Satiric murder mystery with a wealth of likely suspects.
Comparable Titles: Elle Cosimano’s Finlay Donovan Is Killing It, Rupert Holmes’s Murder Your Employer.
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
Kaczka’s vicious blend of suspense, bloodshed, and parody is inspired and original, as he lampoons influencer culture, racism, boomers, buzzword-afflicted corpo-culturists, and more. Abigor, in a frenzy of self-adulation, makes a toast, with human blood, to “one hundred years of excellence” and ruling “the corporate world from the shadows” in one scene, while in others he muses on how strange he finds it that workplaces have become increasingly diverse. Some jolts of horror are both funny and inventive, like the revelation of the contents of the rules book given to conference goers. The satire is heavy-handed but likely to amuse readers wary of management happy-talk, especially as the presentations spin increasingly out of control in flashy, funny ways.
The cast is large enough that not everyone makes an impression, trapped in scenes of lurking evil and lessons about the pillars of leadership, and as the events get ever-crazier the over-the-top ethos diminishes suspense or investment in the characters, who trend toward morbid caricatures, including Abigor’s minion Camilla, who acknowledges she’s “mired in groupthink” but, still, has her sights set no higher than Abigor’s position, in hopes of being “the first woman chair of the Summit Conference.” Kaczka’s social-satire-by-way-of-haunted-house is ambitious, making pulpy entertainment out of a gore-soaked, blunt skewering of late-stage capitalism. There’s a lot to digest here, but readers who appreciate unbridled mockery of self-proclaimed “management mastermind”s will be entertained.
Takeaway: Influencers and corporate-wannabes discover business is hell in thishorror-satire.
Comparable Titles: Lee Mountford’s Haunted: Hotel, Mona Awad’s Bunny.
Production grades
Cover: B-
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: B+
Marketing copy: A-
Gage fashions a kingdom on the verge of collapse, driven by power-hungry figures and rampant selfishness, where magic and superstition, advanced weaponry and medieval defenses, and futuristic technology exist side by side. Aidan, still coming into his own, spends much of his time suspicious of nearly everyone around him—understandable given his father’s murder—and second guessing their actions. He is truly a disoriented teenager, unsure of where he belongs in an increasingly chaotic world, with a terrible weight pressing down on his shoulders.
Gage masterfully captures the tension between Aidan's self-doubt and the inner willpower that drives him forward, illuminating his struggles to grasp the complexities demanded of him amid his very real attempts to mature in a world that seems out to get him. That world gets progressively more dangerous as the book advances, with a war that arrives swiftly and passes just as quickly—but leaves a deeply unsettling impact. In a nod to the story’s sci-fi motifs, Gage pits Aidan against a team of scientists—previously banished by his father for refusing to follow the kingdom’s laws—who meddle in disturbing experiments in an effort to take down Aidan’s kind, setting up the ending for a masterful showdown that accelerates his journey into adulthood. Readers who appreciate rapid-fire adventure and high stakes battles will be wowed.
Takeaway: Fleet debut fantasy of growing up, manmade beasts, and facing evil.
Comparable Titles: Jackary Salem’s Where the Lightning Goes, K.E. Miller’s Rebirth.
Production grades
Cover: B+
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: B+
Marketing copy: A-
Tammy’s life quickly becomes chaotic after her Uncle Ellis’s suspicious drowning, especially once she inherits his estate—and reconnects with Jace Eubanks, a high school love who abandoned her decades ago to marry someone else. The scars from that betrayal still run deep, and the rekindling of their relationship adds layers of complexity to Tammy’s already fraught emotional landscape. Brewer plays off those dynamics in the push and pull Tammy feels between her old life and her new troubles; her mother, Ruby, who embodies old-school Southern charm, fervently hopes that her daughter will resist the temptation to investigate her uncle’s death, but, of course, Tammy can’t turn down the chance to get back in the game.
Brewer—author of Frankie’s Journey, among other romance titles—is clearly committed to clean, values-driven storytelling, which plays out here in moments like Tammy’s mother insisting she attend gospel meetings and then demanding that Tammy pause her investigation to prepare casseroles for a grieving family. Sporadic, first-person chapters provide a chilling glimpse into the killer’s mind, and Brewer deftly weaves together multiple murders, crafting a compelling and suspenseful plot with a satisfying mix of mystery, romance, and small-town intrigue.
Takeaway:Home and heart win out in this small town American murder mystery.
Comparable Titles: Elly Griffiths’s The Postscript Murders, Anne-Marie Meyer’s The Magnolia Inn.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
Richardson’s description of Pem’s harsh childhood, the poverty, and lack of opportunities is both sensitive and authentic; by placing those experiences in the broader cultural, economic, and social conditions of Nepal, she gives them context and breadth. Pem and Moni’s personalities dazzle, etched through small incidents like their rocky start together, when Moni, irritated that Pem kept her awake at night chattering with his friends, did her best to ignore him—but eventually succumbed to his bold courtship. Richardson’s account of their Everest summit bid—which culminated in their marriage at the top and Moni’s record of the first Newari woman to make the climb—is rich in detail, capturing the challenges of Moni’s snow blindness, a constant lack of oxygen, and lurking evils of frostbite and hypothermia.
The book’s highlight is the deep respect and empathy that Richardson has for her subject, as she narrates Pem’s boyhood in Chyangba in nuanced and evocative tones, devoid of sensationalized portrayals, and recounts the courage and determination of both Pem and Moni as they achieve U.S. citizenship—an even “greater challenge than climbing Everest,” according to Pem. This is a crisp, inspiring account not just of scaling a deadly summit, but of life itself.
Takeaway: Exhilarating account of a Nepali Sherpa’s dauntless spirit amid a challenging life.
Comparable Titles: Ed Douglas’s Tenzing, Eric Shipton and H.W. Tilman’s Nanda Devi.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
Wammack again examines moments where civilization flowers. This time, the leap involves class, as the Olympians remove themselves from the rabble, building towers, demanding tribute, and elevating lords to run things, distracting themselves with schemes and orgies. Without losing sight of the dawn-of-humanity stakes, Wammack emphasizes the meetings that keep things running as a cast of Olympians, Titans, and Oceanids makes hilariously un-godly declarations like “We just need some organizational changes.”
The narration, though, remains at an Olympian remove, emulating the declarative nature of ancient texts. The novel is heftily long, purposefully lacking much interiority but packed with incident, discussion, and philosophical inquiry, especially on the part of Dionysus, a figure of real pathos. Much of this is funny, presented in brisk scenes often powered by moral outrage, especially once people begin to think of the Olympians as gods—a development the gods prove happy to exploit and that Wammack, in his provocative, wholly original way, demonstrates as tragic.
Takeaway: Boldly satiric epic novel of the evolution of Olympian godhood.
Comparable Titles: Marie Phillips’s Gods Behaving Badly, Steven Mithen’s After the Ice.
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
As Charly fights those feelings, Dom and Jax wholeheartedly pursue her, nearly from the start of this racy novel. Members of the Iconic Sons Motorcycle Club, a group Charly suspects is not on the up-and-up, the men exude an animal sensuality, using and discarding women for their own empty gratification—until Charly comes along. Steele renders their devil-may-care attitude toward the one-night stands in their lives remarkably well, while still sketching a deeper, caring side to both men that resonates with Charly. Something about Charly strikes Dom and Jax differently, immediately sparking an explosive yearning between the three that sets them on a path to betrayal, abandon, and delicious, steamy sex.
The central relationship in Steele’s novel is unconventional, but she still hits all the right spots for romance fans. Charly needs rescuing, multiple times, and both Dom and Jax are more than up to the task, demonstrating impressive depth for two unattached playboys. Steele transforms their pursuit of Charly into a reflection on belonging, particularly once Charly learns that Dom’s history isn’t much different from her own. Their time between the sheets takes center stage, but Steele uses that as a springboard for a tender—if unorthodox—celebration of love’s enduring bonds.
Takeaway: Steamy love triangle with surprising depth.
Comparable Titles: Beth D. Carter’s Sin, Leah Brooke’s Every Breath.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: B+
Marketing copy: A
Shank (author of The Mystical Land of Myrrh) acknowledges an absence of factual information on Juana’s life, noting the liberties she takes to fill in those blanks—the end result of which is a stunning tapestry of one woman’s unusually brilliant spark. Juana’s larger than life personality consumes the pages of Shank’s novel, materializing in Juana’s delicately intense writing, perseverance in the face of tragedy, determination to be herself no matter the cost, and passionate love for Maria Luisa, the viceroy’s wife who, in real life, ensured some of Juana’s works were published in Spain. Just as she gives herself fully to Maria Luisa, so, too, does Juana devote herself to the Catholic Church, even when it sanctions her creativity and summons its considerable power to muzzle her talents.
Historical fiction fans will devour Shank’s story, enriched with historically accurate details throughout, including Juana’s nemesis, the Archbishop Francisco de Aguiar, who manipulated church doctrine to silence her outspoken writing, and 1695’s devastating plague, confined primarily to Juana’s San Jeronimo’s Convent, that eventually took her life. This penetrating novel portrays the many sides of an extraordinary woman, who dared to love, create, and pursue the question, “should I dare to fly?”
Takeaway: Stunning reimagining of the inspiring life of Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz.
Comparable Titles: Alicia Gaspar de Alba’s Sor Juana’s Second Dream, Paul Anderson’s Hunger’s Brides.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
Rob’s journey finds him grappling with the morality of his actions to protect his daughter, as he navigates through a landscape devoid of transportation and communication, scavenging for resources and avoiding confrontation with those who have turned to violence in the absence of law and order. In the same vein, Ann, increasingly frustrated by campus restrictions, fights the manipulative Sergeant Williams and her violent accomplice, John, in her efforts to return home, fearful that the lockdowns, surveillance, and uncertainty have become her “new world.”
Adkins’s first-person narrative, alternating between Rob and Ann, builds tension effectively, immersing readers in their emotions and experiences, while the novel’s focus on the psychological and emotional effects of the apocalyptic event provides a profound exploration of humanity on the brink of chaos. As Rob reflects that “personal morals will change when you experience enough need, greed, or danger,” he also wonders just how far he’ll go to save Ann, a fear that’s justified as his quest progresses. Homebound is not just a story of survival but a study on the lengths people will go to protect those they love.
Takeaway: A father and daughter fight to reunite after a devastating EMP strike.
Comparable Titles: William R. Forstchen’s One Second After, Harley Tate’s The Darkness Trilogy.
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
Patton Mountain eschews traditional spy heroics, instead charting the careers of Horst and others over a decade of scheming and eventually war with striking and persuasive detail, attentive to inner-Reich politics and culture, military tech, and affairs of the heart. As Hitler and Himmler pressure subordinates to develop the war-changing bomb, Horst falls for a young “Valkyrie” of German espionage, Heidi, on assignment in a Nazi-run nightclub in Tennessee, near a plant connected to the Manhattan project. Horst’s journey will, eventually, find him taking bold action to save many lives, but he does so for his own reasons, including love, betrayal, and “to assure a future for my homeland and that of Aryan Europe.”
Feldman complicates his lead Nazis—Heidi comes to love swing music and befriends Count Basie—without whitewashing beliefs or deeds. Vicious acts by less prominent villains, like several graphic rapes including one of a Jewish teen in a camp, are harrowing and outraged but also queasily detailed. Feldman’s prose rarely cues readers to sympathize with Horst, but Patton Mountain still spends its many hundreds of pages in the minds and hearts of Nazis, limiting its appeal to general audiences.
Takeaway: WWII espionage epic of a Nazi who betrays the Reich.
Comparable Titles: Hans Fallada; V.S. Alexander’s The Traitor.
Production grades
Cover: B-
Design and typography: B
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-