Some books don't just take place in summer, they feel like it. These five underrated picks will send you right back to the boat, the beach, the popsicle dripping in the heat.

My summer TBR looks a little different this year. No Emily Henry, no Ali Hazelwood… which means I finally have no excuse not to tackle the books that have been sitting on my shelves. Here's what I'm reading, listening to, and rereading this summer.

After years of unexplained infertility, I found out I was pregnant with a surprise baby. Weeks later, we received a Trisomy 21 diagnosis and duodenal atresia. This is our story from pregnancy through NICU life with Caroline and what the past months have really looked like.

At Lady Elowen’s autumn lantern gathering, Lady Bergamot is drawn into a pairing with Yates Everett — and into a confrontation she has long avoided. Beneath flickering lights and half-truths, two hearts wrestle with the weight of what cannot be said.

In this tender epistle set in early September 1912, Lady Bergamot reflects on her lifeless marriage and the quiet, haunting presence of Yates Everett. Through a visit from Lady Ameline and memories that won't fade, she confronts what remains unnamed — and undeniable.

I was in fourth grade when I found A Series of Unfortunate Events. I talked about them on AIM with my best friend, devoured each new hardcover, and felt like someone finally trusted me with something strange and brilliant.

"Not all music is meant to be danced to," I told him.
"Some is meant only to be endured."

We did not touch. But the heat between us said everything. And I wonder — how long can one pretend not to burn?

We chased lightnin’ bugs barefoot with jars in our hands. Not to keep them, just to hold the magic long enough to remember. That hour between dusk and dark still feels magical.

"I wake each day knowing he will never be mine, and yet every breath I take is shaped by the thought of him."

The note was passed hand to hand like fiction. No one guessed the truth. Except him. And he looked at me, like it was not a secret, but a vow.

When no one needs me, I remember there is still a woman here. One who hums, notices, creates. And in the silence, she has something to say.

A mossy little birdhouse hung on the porch for years, mostly for show. Then, one spring morning, a pair of bluebirds arrived. This Curio Cabinet post is a soft reflection on what happens when something unexpected decides to belong.

We picked over 32 quarts of black raspberries in one week, racing the rain from a hurricane on the way. It was hot, it was tedious, and my little brother mostly just snacked, but we got it done.

In the heat of a summer evening, Lady Bergamot asks her husband to dance. When he refuses, another man watches. What follows is not a love story, but the ache of almost.

No cake. No big party. Just French fries, rain, and joy in the shape of him. Five years ago, he changed everything.

Honeybees do not ask your permission. They arrive when the thyme is blooming, map the morning by sunlight, and carry sweetness not for themselves but for the hive. This Curio Cabinet essay is a quiet observation of their rhythm and the things we learn when we stand still beside them.

“Because the truth was, I had never been sure if he was ever mine to long for. Only that I had once stood close enough to the fire to feel its heat.”

I’ve always lived under a metal roof. Rainy days don’t rush me anymore. They bring me home to myself.

Bartholomew Badger likes knowing where things are, and how to get back to them. But one spring morning, the path doesn’t lead home, and he begins to learn the quiet joy of not knowing. A Widdershins Wood tale about direction, discovery, and adaptability.

I ran miles to make the team. Played through injury after injury. Barely came off the court. And I loved it — every serve, every win, every ache. Volleyball was mine.