The Ghostkeeper will be released on July 23, 2024.

Ever since Dorian Leith very nearly died—and gained the unexpected ability to see ghosts as a result—he’s dedicated himself to helping ghosts find peace and enter the afterlife. Sure, his job doesn’t make him very popular, particularly since most people would rather pay ghastly exorcists to destroy household ghosts than a ghost therapist to help their hauntings work through their problems, but every time Dorian teaches a ghost new coping skills or helps another client move on into the afterlife, it brings him such satisfaction that he can’t imagine doing anything else.

That is, until the key to Death’s Door vanishes—and the town is suddenly plagued by an influx of angry ghosts who can’t find their way into the afterlife, no matter how many times Dorian helps them reframe their struggles. Dorian knows he’s the only one who’s able to help the ghosts, not to mention the only one who cares. But finding the key means risking the first true relationship with a living human he’s had in years—and any sense of self he has beyond the ghosts he cares for.

​I did not expect to love a graphic novel about a queer ghost therapist to be this awesome and endearing, but The Ghostkeeper seemed determined to exceed my expectations from the first page. To begin with, I loved the art style, and in particular how the ghosts were portrayed; the blue-tinged characters and in particular the clearly different speech bubbles helped keep the story clear and moving at a fast pace, and made the dialogue easier to follow than most other graphic novels I've read. The use of color schemes and panel shapes created a fabulous sense of atmosphere, and worked together with the quirky characters and fast-paced plot to create a story I couldn't put down.

But I'd be remiss if I didn't mention one of my favorite aspects of the story - Dorian himself. I connected with him so deeply - his internal struggles, his determination to help ghosts, his self-sacrificing propensity, his insecurity, and the depth of his friendships. The ghost therapist concept is brilliant to begin with, but The Ghostkeeper brings it alive, and the incredibly realistic (but also hilarious) strategies that Dorian uses to counsel the ghosts grounded the premise and made it utterly believable. I was particularly drawn to the way Dorian struggles to separate what he needs from what the ghosts need, a thread of realism that helped wholeheartedly sell me on the entire story.

I highly recommend The Ghostkeeper to readers ages eleven and up, particularly those who enjoy gorgeously illustrated graphic novels, brilliant characters, and a touch of ghostly horror.

An e-ARC of this book was provided through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

By Nico

When Princess Brie meets Count Camembert, full of quirky dress sense and appreciation for Brie’s often unorthodox activism, it’s love at first sight.

There’s just one problem—Count Camembert is really Lady Camembert, disguised as a man so she can still inherit her father’s money after refusing to marry a man. She’s supposed to be keeping a low profile so no one can discover her secret…but after meeting Brie, she’s not so sure that’ll be possible.

Camembert knows her love can’t go anywhere. After all, Brie is a princess destined for a diplomatic marriage, and she has no idea Camembert isn’t a man. But could there still be room for a happily ever?

​With queer romance, bright illustrations, and lots of cheese puns, I read The Princess and the Grilled Cheese Sandwich in one sitting. Muniz’s artwork is expressive and quirky, and I liked the fast-paced plot and characters, particularly Zola, who was both humorous and deeper than I initially expected. Definitely check this one out if you love graphic novels and grilled cheese sandwiches! I recommend The Princess and the Grilled Cheese Sandwich to readers ages twelve and up. 

By Nico

Wren has always dreamed of joining the Coven, where every witch and magical source train together to protect the land. But despite her magical gifts, that’s never been an option; her brother died years ago from a witch’s spell gone wrong, and her ailing father can’t handle the truth about what she is. So she cares for him as he gets sicker and hides her magic instead. Surely, it’s a small price to pay for keeping him alive.

But Wren’s life is shattered when her father falls victim to a deadly magical plague. Desperate, she seeks out the only person who might be able to help her: Tamsin, the village witch.

​Tamsin used to be the Coven’s most powerful witch. Now, though, what remains of her life after breaking the Coven’s most sacred rule has been consumed by their punishing curse: she can no longer experience love or joy unless she steals it from those around her. She has no good reason to work with dreamy, inexperienced Wren, or meddle again in the kind of magic that left her cursed in the first place. But she agrees to help Wren hunt down the witch responsible for the plague anyway, and as they search for the culprit—a search that brings them dangerously close to Tamsin’s own past—she begins to feel something for Wren that she was certain was impossible: love.

I went into this story all but certain that it wouldn’t surprise me. The heartless witch, the idealistic newbie, a shared quest that becomes a burgeoning romance—although I was looking forward to digging into Sweet and Bitter Magic, since it came highly recommended, I didn’t truly expect it to be anything I hadn’t read before. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Yes, all these tropes are present in the story, but they take an almost unrecognizable form beneath Tooley’s deft pen, weaving two characters I couldn’t help but fall in love with even as they fell in love with each other. Wren’s conflict is infinitely relatable; the conflict she feels between what she wants and what she feels is right, and the guilt she feels when pursuing her own dreams, made her instantly leap off the page. Tamsin, too, felt completely real. Where many characters like her are just canonically impartial and heartless, the fact that she quite literally cannot feel love—and her longing to—made her far more complex than others like her, and that combined with her spectacular backstory gave her character incredible depth. Tooley’s writing was absorbing from the very first page, and I didn’t want to leave behind the fascinating world and spectacular cast when the book came to a close. I highly recommend Sweet and Bitter Magic to fans of queer romance, superb characters, and engrossing storylines ages twelve and up. 

By Nico

Oliver Bennet’s life does not seem too promising. With the impending threat of marriage only the latest reminder that the world still thinks he’s the girl he’s never been, his current solace—slipping out at night dressed in boy’s clothes, getting to be himself after pretending all day—looks on the verge of slipping out of reach. How can he hope to survive in a world, let alone in a marriage, that denies his very existence?

But Oliver meets Darcy, who not just treats him cordially, but seeks out his friendship. At first, Oliver is just glad that Darcy sees him as the boy he truly is. He never would’ve imagined that their friendship could become something more—or that someone could love the real Oliver.

Stuck between a false life, where he’s forced to wear petticoats and respond to a name that’s never been his, and a real one where he slips out at night to meet Darcy and discover the path he’s always dreamed of, Oliver knows that this precarious balancing act can’t last forever. With his family on the verge of learning the truth about him, Oliver must decide on his own terms how he wants to live his life, even if that means risking the only family he’s ever known.

I loved both The Wicked Bargain and Pride and Prejudice, so I knew going into Most Ardently book that it probably wouldn’t meet my extraordinarily high expectations. I was absolutely wrong. Gabe Cole Novoa delivers one of the best books I’ve read in a long time, which brought me several times to tears of joy (not something that often happens!) and, to be honest, gave me hope for the future.

To begin with, Oliver is absolutely fantastic. I immediately fell in love with his palpable longing, his strong friendships, and his worldview, all combined in a character who spoke to me so deeply that I struggled to put Most Ardently down. Due to the book’s short length, there were certainly characters I would’ve loved to see played with more (Mr. Collins and Wickam are the most obvious ones that jump out at me), but the flipside of this meant getting to spend the majority of the book with a smaller cast of characters, allowing me to get to know each of them incredibly well. I particularly loved how Gabe Cole Novoa created Darcy’s character, which felt incredibly true to the original while also gaining its own spark.

Novoa sticks to the original story but is never afraid to branch out to create a book that truly feels like it could’ve existed behind Pride and Prejudice all these years. The plotlines with Mr. Bennet and Wickam particularly leaps to mind, but honestly there wasn’t a single point in this book where my absorption in the story and suspension of belief were broken—something I very rarely see in a retelling, and yet was executed so flawlessly I didn’t even register it until the end.

The only place that might’ve felt a little too perfect was the ending, but honestly, I was so happy for all the characters that I couldn’t bring myself to mind! I highly recommend Most Ardently to readers ages twelve and up, particularly those who love historical fiction or feel-good trans romance. 

By Lina
​
Ari Mendoza - Aristotle, if you want to annoy him - is fifteen. A fifteen-year-old boy, in summer, with a father who holds the Vietnam war silent inside him and an irritatingly perceptive mother who adores him. One with a brother in prison, leaving him with questions his parents will never answer, and two grown-up sisters, making him a sort of fake only child, which is pretty depressing, when you think about it. 

Ari’s not particularly interested in making friends - most people know to leave him alone, and that’s just fine with him. But then he meets Dante Quintana, an irrepressible, erudite boy who appears at the local pool and offers to teach him to swim. Ari doesn’t like accepting help. But for whatever reason, he says yes to Dante. 

Ari is moody rain and fierce loyalty, a self-professed expert loner. Dante is sunlight and poetry and smart-aleck comebacks. They’re utterly different. They’re remarkably alike. 

Together, they might discover the secrets of the universe. 

By the time I read Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, not only did I have high expectations, I felt I had a pretty good sense of the overall trajectory of the story. Historical queer romance? Coming-of-age tale? When you read a lot, you often go into books with a decent sense of what they’ll be like based on the loose sketch you’ve gotten from the flap and - when they’re as acclaimed and successful as this one - the reviews and recommendations. While each is unique, they often fit semiconscious, overall molds. 

Not this one. Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe was entirely different than I was expecting, carrying on in its own way, politely brushing my expectations aside each time I thought I knew what was going to happen next. Instead of the standard three-act love story I was expecting, I was launched into a stunning meditation on growing up, on figuring out who you are, and on the complexity of families and secrets and being a teenager, all while remaining unwaveringly fresh and authentic. Some books - just a few - capture that ineffable essence of growing up, of hovering on that border between childhood and adulthood; The Perks of Being a Wallflower comes to mind. This is one of them. 

It’s rare for me to fall in love with an entire cast of characters, but it happened here. All the characters, including both sets of parents, are complex and flawed and effortlessly human, and all felt real; their dialogue is particularly strong and believable. Ari is a captivating protagonist, messy, witty, wickedly smart and surprisingly introspective, while Dante’s brilliance, quirkiness, and indescribable individuality shine. I was especially struck by Sáenz’s remarkable ability to tell readers a great deal without outright saying anything of the sort, particularly concerning Ari himself: one is so deeply enmeshed in his mind, his life, and his feelings that one often viscerally understands his emotions and thoughts without his actually admitting to them. 

A tale of family, friendship, secrets, love, growing up, and, at its very heart, being human, I would highly recommend this raw, thoughtful, beautiful story to readers ages 14 and up. It’s also excellent on audio.

By Nico

Potosí, 1600s. Spain has established a viceroyalty in one of its newest colonies, Peru. The streets of the city are full of beauty and chaos and danger, hardly the place for two young ladies from the upper class.

But at night, Kiki de Sonza and Ana Lezama de Urinza, daughter and ward of one of Peru’s wealthiest men, trade their voluminous skirts and amenable smiles for daggers wielded with the upmost precision, and venture into the streets—to explore, to protect those who can’t protect themselves, and to experience the brilliant, forbidden love that’s long burgeoned between them.

These two parts of their lives have long been separate: streets by night, skirts by day. But when Kiki’s brother is murdered the night of her engagement announcement, their only hope of finding answers lies on the winding streets of Potosí—where they will either find the truth, or become the murderer’s next victims.

I read and loved the Girl at Midnight series by Melissa Grey years ago, so when I discovered she had a new series, featuring historical adventure, sword-wielding lesbians, and a murder mystery, I immediately knew I had to check it out. Valiant Ladies certainly didn’t disappoint! I loved Kiki and Ana—although I don’t always love books with a prominent romance plotline, both characters were so brilliant that I couldn’t resist rooting for them. With witty dialogue, righteous determination, and an absolutely fabulous dynamic, I didn’t want to put this book down. The historical aspect of Valiant Ladies was also excellent, and I love how the characters never felt like they were solely reflecting modern sensibilities about queer characters or feminism; instead, they all felt wholly alive in the historical setting. I didn’t go into this story expecting its twisting, complex plot, but it more than delivered. Melissa Grey weaves a multilayered, clever mystery full of surprises and quirks that propelled the story forward at a swift and ever-engaging pace. Full of vibrance, fire, and action, I highly recommend Valiant Ladies to lovers of queer romance and historical fiction ages thirteen and up. 

By Nico

There are stories about the lake, about a world that exists beneath it, about ghosts and odd happenings and mysteries that can’t be solved. No one believes them anymore, of course—the old sign detailing the lakelore is barely legible, and the old tales have become things to laugh at, not to believe. Only Bastián Silvano can find the world under the lake anymore, find the place where water lifts from the surface like butterfly’s wings and reveals a path to the depths below. And Lore Garcia is the only one they’ve ever managed to show it to, though they met so briefly they never even learned each other’s names.

It's been years since they met for the first time—time enough for Bastián to begin sending their worst moments beneath the lake’s surface in paper-mâché alebrijes, and for Lore to do something so terrible they have to leave their old town—even if that doesn’t keep away the memories intent on reminding Lore of all their worst mistakes. But when Lore moves into Bastián’s town and lakelore slips out from beneath the surface of the lake, they must each trust each other with the parts of themselves they’ve worked the hardest to hide.

Having written hundreds of reviews, I have a running shortlist of ones that were nearly impossible to describe—books like Raybearer and Daughter of Smoke and Bone, which I absolutely love but struggle to find words to summarize the plots of. Lakelore surpasses all of them. Encapsulating Anna-Marie McLemore’s gorgeous magical realism at its finest, Lakelore is the story of two nonbinary teens navigating the dangerous, complicated, multifaceted world of their own minds and histories, all while coming to terms with what it means to love yourself. At once ethereal and impossibly grounded in reality, there is so much of this story nearly impossible to put into words—and yet it’s so utterly amazing that I feel like I do it a disservice by not attempting to.

Lakelore is, in one word, stunning. McLemore (who is also the author of some of my other absolute favorite books, such as Blanca and Roja, Wild Beauty, and When the Moon Was Ours) weaves realism and magic together so smoothly with their beautiful writing that the two flow into one another so naturally they feel inseparable; the world they draw with relatively straightforward language is so evocative and gorgeous that I couldn’t help but be absorbed by it. Always thoughtful, reflective, and intentional, the many threads of Lakelore became something incredibly deep beneath McLemore’s deft pen. This book made me feel utterly heard to a degree few others ever have through the power and authenticity of its protagonists’ struggles, and the beauty of their evolving awarenesses of themselves.

​Far too many books become ‘single-issue’; Lore and Bastián, instead, lie at the intersection of many identities—neurodivergence, race, gender—and yet this story never becomes ‘about’ any one of these. Instead, it focuses on the two people behind them, whose nuanced and complex narratives are built far more around who they are, their experiences, and how the world has treated them because of their identities—and, particularly, how they intersect—than simply using those identities as checked-off diversity boxes, creating a pair of protagonists who are refreshingly, beautifully, and sometimes devastatingly real. I can’t think of another book starring two characters who are as complex and human as these two, or who I love quite this much. Deft, magical, and truly incredible, I highly recommend Lakelore to readers ages twelve and up, particularly those who love magical realism and queer, diverse fantasy. 

By Ella

Imani is a Shield, tasked with protecting the desert-swathed kingdom of Qalia from the monsters that patrol the dangerous, surrounding sands. With an affinity for metal granted by the magical tea that gives Imani’s people their magic, her ferocity and talent has earned her the nickname of Djinni Slayer.

But Imani is only following in the footsteps of her older brother, Atheer, who was once a great Shield too. Now, though, his reputation is ruined after he was accused of stealing Qalia’s tea, sure proof to the rest of the world that he wasn’t who they thought he was. More than anything, Imani wants to know why he did it—but Atheer vanished a year ago, believed to have died in the desert, and the answers he might have provided gone with him.

When Imani stumbles across Qayn, a djinni who claims to have known her brother, she’s torn between her duty as a Shield and her desire to uncover what really happened to Atheer—a decision made all the more difficult when Qayn tells her that Atheer was smuggling tea magic to the people beyond the desert, people who, according to all Imani’s been taught, aren’t even supposed to exist.

​Alongside Qayn and Taha, an arrogant Shield who has been Imani’s longtime rival, she sets out across the desert to uncover what really happened to Atheer before he endangers her home. But when what she’s been raised to believe and her beloved brother’s ideas are in conflict, who can Imani believe? 
​
Spice Road is an atmospheric, evocative, and fast-paced fantasy adventure perfect for fans of intense, worldbuilding YA books like An Ember in the Ashes. The world of Qalia immediately pulled me in; the uniqueness of magic-infused tea and the difficulties which came with it—like needing to drink the tea frequently for power to be maintained—felt utterly natural and fully realized, a far cry from many fantasy magic systems that are unique in concept but contrived in execution. But even more than the magic, I loved the blend of a seemingly utopian society and its entrenched prejudices, two sides to this country which played out beautifully through its varied characters and the conflicts which rose organically between them through their wildly different views on the same society and its institutions. This natural, authentic interplay honestly sums up the characters of Spice Road; from the first page, Imani’s conflict and determination helped carry her struggles and journey throughout the story. But the characters are always at their best when interacting with others, because these conversations and conflicts serve to develop each of them and reveal the unique prejudices, views, backgrounds, and relationships which make them come alive so vividly. I’m already looking forward to the sequel! Detailed and absorbing, I highly recommend Spice Road to readers ages thirteen and up. 

By Ella

The snowstorm of a century has hit Atlanta. Every radio station and TV channel is advising everyone to stay home. But for Stevie, staying home is not ​an option--not when tonight is her last chance to apologize to her girlfriend, Sola, and show her how much she means to her. And she's not going to be able to pull off something this big on her own. 

Told through a set of overlapping, intertwining stories, Whiteout is the story of Stevie and her friends' attempt to reunite her and Sola in a way so big, so meaningful, that she won't be able to help but forgive her--and each of them falling in love along the way. 

​I don't usually read romance novels, but I love short stories, particularly intercon-nected ones, and so I couldn't resist Whiteout​! It didn't disappoint. With each chapter a mini-story centering around a different character's role in Stevie's grand plan (and each character written by a different one of the book's authors), every character's tale felt different and unique, offering a different angle and layer of storytelling which led to a book which felt well-rounded, unique, and satisfying. Although I liked all of the characters, Stevie was definitely a favorite, whose love of science, sometimes painful flaws, and determination helped make her a protagonist I was committed to seeing succeed. I recommend Whiteout to readers ages twelve and up who enjoy romance or interconnected short stories.