{"id":218693,"date":"2025-09-11T17:18:15","date_gmt":"2025-09-11T17:18:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/218693\/"},"modified":"2025-09-11T17:18:15","modified_gmt":"2025-09-11T17:18:15","slug":"read-stephanie-garbers-alchemy-of-secrets-excerpt-listen-to-audiobook","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/218693\/","title":{"rendered":"Read Stephanie Garber’s \u2018Alchemy of Secrets\u2019 Excerpt, Listen to Audiobook"},"content":{"rendered":"

Stephanie Garber<\/a> spins pure magic in her books and her adult debut is absolutely no exception. Fans have been waiting to see what new tale that would come from the iconic author after the end of the Once Upon a Broken Heart series and thankfully, the wait is almost over. Except, this time Stephanie Garber is turning the Hollywood glamour up and taking us on a unique new ride that you won’t want to stop talking about. <\/p>\n

Cosmopolitan has an exclusive look at Alchemy of Secrets by Stephanie Garber<\/a>, which is set to be released on October 7, 2025. After taking a secret class, Holland St. James has become obsessed with the stories that she learned from the Professor. And when one of them seemingly proves to be true, Holland has to race agains the clock to live to see more of the magic she searches for. Here’s some more info from our friends at Flatiron Books<\/a>:<\/p>\n

DELUXE LIMITED EDITION first printing featuring unique case stamp and black sprayed edges<\/strong>The HOTLY ANTICIPATED adult debut novel by the beloved, #1 NEW YORK TIMES <\/p>\n

‘Alchemy of Secrets’ by Stephanie Garber<\/p>\n

\"'Alchemy<\/a>BESTSELLING author of the Caraval and Once Upon a Broken Heart series: a contemporary fantasy kicking off a brand new series! <\/strong>It starts with a class in an old movie theater.<\/p>\n

Folklore 517: Local Legends and Urban Myths, taught by a woman called the Professor. Most students believe the Professor\u2019s stories are just fiction, but Holland St. James has always been convinced that magic is real. When she tracks down a local legend named the Watch Man, who can supposedly tell you when you\u2019ll die, the world finally makes sense. Except that the Watch Man tells her she will die at midnight tomorrow unless she finds an ancient object called the Alchemical Heart.<\/p>\n

With the clock ticking, Holland is pulled deeper into this magical world in the heart of Los Angeles\u2014and into the path of a magnetic stranger. Everything about him feels like a bad idea, but he promises Holland that her sister sent him to protect her. As they chase clues and stories that take them closer to the Alchemical Heart, Holland realizes everyone in this intoxicating new world is lying to her, even this stranger. And if she can\u2019t figure out whom to trust, not even the Alchemical Heart will save her.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

And class is officially in session thanks to the exclusive excerpt that you can read below, including the audiobook read by Broadway and Younger star Sutton Foster! Just make sure to pre-order Alchemy of Secrets<\/a> and also check out some of Stephanie’s previous releases<\/a> as well!<\/p>\n

An Excerpt From Alchemy of Secrets
By Stephanie Garber
Read by Sutton Foster<\/strong>
<\/p>\n

\"label<\/p>\n

Flatiron books<\/p>\n

It started with a whisper you heard while in line at a coffee shop, a story you probably should have ignored. But the rumor stuck in your head like a song, it plagued you like an unsolved riddle. Until, at last, it led you here. A parking lot, which had clearly not paid attention to the weather report.<\/p>\n

They said it would be all stars, no clouds tonight, but you feel the rain on your toes. The wet hits in eager droplets as you dash across the pavement in sandals. Around you, streetlamps flicker, a staticky chorus to your damp footfalls.<\/p>\n

You\u2019re not out of breath, but you slow, stopping under a marquee. The words COMING SOON sizzle in red block letters, throwing neon shadows on a retro cashier\u2019s booth, covered in washed-out posters for attractions that have already come and gone. Veronica Lake\u2019s name splashes across the top of one poster in faded yellow letters, while a black-and-white Loretta Young smiles at you from another. Loretta\u2019s poster is for A Night to Remember, and you hope tonight will be one of those nights.<\/p>\n

You don\u2019t know for certain if the stories are true, but you half expect to fall through a rabbit hole as you step through the theater door into the lobby.<\/p>\n

Your excitement varnishes everything in an extra layer of shine. On your right, there\u2019s a bank of gleaming pay phones in neat wood and glass boxes. You\u2019ve never seen a line of so many. You\u2019re almost tempted to snap a photo, but you don\u2019t. And you couldn\u2019t have even if you\u2019d tried. By now your phone is no longer working, though you don\u2019t know that yet. You\u2019re suddenly too distracted by the ancient concession stand to your left, where the dust looks like nostalgia and you barely notice the chips in the gold paint that make up the art deco border of geometric suns and jumping dolphins.<\/p>\n

The sign above says:<\/p>\n

10 cents for popcorn
15 cents for popcorn with butter
25 cents for cigarettes<\/p>\n

You were unaware they used to sell cigarettes in theaters, but for a moment you can smell the smoke and the popcorn. You can almost taste the butter, too. But you don\u2019t linger in the lobby. There\u2019s only one theater\u2014one attraction\u2014that you wish to find, and you walk directly toward it.<\/p>\n

Your chest is tight. Your heart is already racing. And you\u2019re still hoping for the rabbit hole that will take you to another world. You\u2019re starry-eyed and optimistic, an overexposed picture made of too much light, as you step through the double doors.<\/p>\n

It still smells like smoke and popcorn, but there\u2019s something else, too. Maybe it\u2019s just the scent of old velvet mixed with lingering hints of petrichor, but it makes you think of Technicolor dreams as you stretch your neck to take in the impossibly tall ceiling. It\u2019s all ivory and gold, and it\u2019s covered in more art deco designs that look as if they could be cousins to the zodiac.<\/p>\n

Beneath the elaborate dome, a fraction of the seats are already occupied. Twenty-five? Maybe fifty? You\u2019re too nervous to properly count as you take a chair near the back. It rocks, and the worn velvet is soft, but it feels too far from the stage.<\/p>\n

You decide to move closer, sneaking more looks at the others as you do. You want to see who else made it inside, if there\u2019s anyone you recognize. But given the scant number of people you know at school, it\u2019s unsurprising these faces are all strangers. Some are whispering, some are giggling, a few like you say nothing, but there\u2019s a thread that ties you all together: expectation.<\/p>\n

This has to be it. The curtains on the stage are deep, lush pink, and when they part you hold your breath.<\/p>\n

Gentlemen, kindly remove your hats, flickers across the silver screen.<\/p>\n

Then another slide replaces it: Loud whistles and talking are not allowed.<\/p>\n

This, of course, elicits a number of whistles. But then it\u2019s all quiet and hush as the image leaves the screen and a tiny star appears in the upper-right-hand corner. It blinks once, twice. Then every light in the theater goes out.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s darker than the night outside. You hear people pulling out their phones, but none of them are working, including yours. No signal. No light. No digital clock to tell you how much time is passing.<\/p>\n

You don\u2019t know how long you sit there before you hear the first person leave. They\u2019ve decided this class is not for them, if it even is a class. A few others follow.<\/p>\n

You hate that you\u2019re tempted to do the same.<\/p>\n

Your toes are no longer wet, but your skin is prickly with cold. You feel as if someone\u2019s watching you, though it\u2019s too dark for anyone to see. <\/p>\n

More time ticks by, and you go over the stories you\u2019ve heard, the rumors and the whispers about a very particular class that can\u2019t be found in any online catalog, taught by a professor who\u2019s not on any website. And suddenly you think it\u2019s for a good reason. You think maybe you should go. You think\u2014<\/p>\n

A light flickers on the stage. Just a tiny thing, but the shine gets you. You close your eyes, then open them. And when you can see again, she\u2019s there.<\/p>\n

She\u2019s sitting on a wooden stool in the center of the stage.<\/p>\n

You don\u2019t know how long she\u2019s been there, but you have the impression she\u2019s been waiting for hours, just like the two dozen or so of you who remain. She\u2019s shorter than you\u2019d imagined. The way people talked about her always made her sound tall, statuesque, literally larger than life. But she looks like someone\u2019s grandmother. Bobbed silver hair frames a round, barely smiling face, as she says words that make you feel as if all the cold and the damp and the waiting have been worth it.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re here because of a story,\u201d she says. \u201cNow I\u2019m going to tell you another one.\u201d<\/p>\n

Chapter One
<\/p>\n

Holland St. James had been counting down the minutes until tonight. She had tried on seven different dresses and five different pairs of shoes, she had curled her hair, she had even put on new eye makeup. And now she was about to ruin it all.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought we were going for ice cream?\u201d Jake asked, perfectly nice. Because Jake might have been the nicest guy Holland had ever dated.<\/p>\n

When Jake had first come into the Santa Monica Coffee Lab a couple weeks ago, Holland had thought he was the perfect kind of cute. He looked more Clark Kent than Superman, with the type of dark-rimmed glasses that had always been her personal kryptonite. Then, he\u2019d bumped into her, spilling some of his cold brew, and Holland had seen the textbooks he was holding. Jake was in grad school, studying to teach ESL.<\/p>\n

On their first date, she learned he also volunteered at the Los Angeles Animal Rescue and the Echo Park Time Travel Mart, which was actually a nonprofit that helped children with their creative writing. On their second date, she learned Jake had recently become a vegetarian, and he rode a bike instead of driving a car because he wanted to do whatever he could for the environment.<\/p>\n

Jake was genuinely a good guy.<\/p>\n

Maybe there was a tiny part of Holland that thought he was a little too perfect, like an email without a typo or an airbrushed picture that needed one wrinkle. But that could have just been Holland looking for red flags that didn\u2019t exist.<\/p>\n

This was only their third date, but Holland hadn\u2019t made it to a fourth date in two years. She really didn\u2019t want to screw this up. And she was afraid she might have already done that minutes ago, when she hadn\u2019t been able to stop herself from dragging Jake down this grimy alley, after seeing a poster that made her think of one of the Professor\u2019s stories.<\/p>\n

The poster had been plastered to the side of a cement wall. It was one of those vintage numbers, the kind that looked as if it should have been on one of the wooden postcards they sold on the Santa Monica Pier. Palm trees in sun-washed brown and green framed the charcoal silhouette of a man wearing a fedora and looking down at his watch. There were no logos, no brand names. There were actually no words at all to identify what exactly the poster was selling. There were just two initials on the faceless man\u2019s cuff links: W.M.<\/p>\n

The Watch Man.<\/p>\n

It was the first thought that had entered her mind. Then she had taken Jake down this alley. She hadn\u2019t been able to stop herself.<\/p>\n

Holland had been raised on her father\u2019s treasure hunts. As a child, she\u2019d learned to look for clues the way other children learned to play with blocks or each other. Perhaps that was why Holland had never felt as if she quite fit in, until she found the Professor\u2019s folklore class. Her stories made Holland feel as if she was on one of her father\u2019s hunts again.<\/p>\n

She hadn\u2019t actually expected to discover anything tonight. Things around LA were always reminding her of the Professor\u2019s stories, and Holland always felt compelled to chase them. She was perpetually darting down alleys she swore she\u2019d never seen before, only to find a bar or a coffee shop or a bookstore she\u2019d actually already visited.<\/p>\n

But not tonight. Tonight, Holland knew she\u2019d never been down this alley. She would have remembered the sign.<\/p>\n

Curios & Clockwork
Inquire Within<\/p>\n

The words hung from a sleek copper hook that shone against a door Holland wanted to believe was vintage but might have just been dirty. One glance at Jake and she could tell he was thinking dirty. He was possibly rethinking his choice to go on this date as well. She wanted to change his mind. She also really wanted to go through that door, and she wanted to convince him to come with her.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you like urban myths?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah\u2014I actually love them.\u201d Jake gave her smile that was far more Superman than Clark Kent. Holland felt a spark of hope that she was headed in the right direction again.<\/p>\n

And yet . . . she hesitated.<\/p>\n

The Professor had a rule about not sharing her stories with people outside of her class. No one broke this rule. The class required too much effort from students for them to then give the stories away for free, and the Professor always warned students there could be serious consequences to doing so. But Holland wasn\u2019t a Folklore 517 student anymore, and it was only one story. But . . .<\/p>\n

\u201cBefore I say anything else,\u201d she said quietly, \u201cI need you to swear on the life of your dog, or your bike, or that houseplant you\u2019ve been working so hard to keep alive, that you won\u2019t tell anyone what I\u2019m about to say.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jake grinned wider. \u201cI swear.\u201d He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips, as if to seal the promise. \u201cSo, is this like a family secret?\u201d<\/p>\n

Holland froze.<\/p>\n

She reminded herself that Jake came from a large family that was always calling him and sharing even the most mundane details of their day. Talking about family was normal for him. He wasn\u2019t fishing for information.<\/p>\n

Yet it took her several seconds to smile in a way she hoped looked playful. \u201cIt\u2019s not a family secret, but it is something I\u2019m not supposed to talk about. When I was doing my undergrad, I took this class called Folklore 517: Local Legends and Urban Myths. The class itself is sort of a local legend. You can\u2019t register for it. It\u2019s not on any website. You have to find it by word of mouth. Then if you pass the class, at the end of the semester, it shows up on your transcript.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jake looked all in. \u201cSo, it\u2019s like a secret society version of a class?\u201d<\/p>\n

Holland nodded nervously, or maybe she was feeling excited. It wasn\u2019t as if sharing this little secret was going to hurt anyone. \u201cEach week, the Professor would talk about a different local legend or urban myth, and we\u2019d have to swear never to share them. One of the Professor\u2019s legends is about someone called the Watch Man. Supposedly, there are signs that lead to him around Los Angeles. If you follow the signs and you manage to find him, you can ask him the time, and the Watch Man will tell you when you\u2019ll die.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jake\u2019s expression shifted, a tiny worry line forming between his brows.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not as morbid as it sounds,\u201d Holland hurried to say. \u201cThe Professor also said that you can make a deal with him to get more time, to live longer than you would have.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you really believe this?\u201d Jake asked. There was something in his voice Holland couldn\u2019t quite place, but suddenly she feared she\u2019d been a little too optimistic about his interest in legends. He was a normal guy who was probably used to going on very normal dates. And most likely he wanted a very normal girl.<\/p>\n

Of course not.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s just for fun.<\/p>\n

No\u2014not even a little.<\/p>\n

Any of these would have been excellent answers to his question; these were all things a normal girl would have said.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust come inside with me,\u201d Holland hedged.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d Jake said. And because he was a nice guy, he reached out and opened the door with the Curios & Clockwork sign for her.<\/p>\n

Everything on the other side was milk glass and gold. A perfect row of milk-glass lights on golden cords lit a perfect floor of milk-glass penny tile with a number of shimmering golden tiles that spelled out the words tick tock.<\/p>\n

There were no footprints, no smudges, just the glittering words, which winked like the flutter of a second hand under the glassy lights.<\/p>\n

It almost felt like magic. Not big, miraculous magic but the simple magic of timeless things. Of two-dollar bills and handwritten letters, typewriters and rotary phones.<\/p>\n

Holland might have said as much out loud. But Jake looked as if he wasn\u2019t sure what to make of this uncanny room in the back of a strange alley. This wasn\u2019t what he\u2019d signed up for when he\u2019d suggested they go for ice cream. He wanted a date who would look good in an Instagram photograph, not one who could end up on Dating Hell Reddit.<\/p>\n

Holland had definitely misread this one, but she couldn\u2019t go back now. This felt like the closest she\u2019d ever been to finding one of the Professor\u2019s myths in real life.<\/p>\n

There were two doors across from them, and they were milk glass as well, glossy white, with golden handles and simple rectangular golden plaques in the center. One plaque said curios. The other said clockwork. <\/p>\n

Holland reached for the clockwork door, hoping it was for the Watch Man. If she was ruining this date, it needed to be for a good reason.<\/p>\n

The doorknob didn\u2019t budge.<\/p>\n

She tugged again. \u201cI think it\u2019s locked.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jake reached over her shoulder and knocked. Two loud raps of his knuckles.<\/p>\n

\u201cMay I help you?\u201d The voice came from the other door. The one labeled curios.<\/p>\n

In the yawning doorway now stood a girl. She had pixie-cut platinum hair and a small nose ring, and she wore a fitted white dress the same shade as the milk glass. At first glance, she looked young, but there was something about the way the girl stood and stared that made Holland think her appearance might be deceiving.<\/p>\n

Holland tried to see behind her, to get a glimpse of the curios inside, but there was only more white light.<\/p>\n

The girl drummed her squared-off nails on the doorframe impatiently.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re looking for the Watch Man,\u201d Holland said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry. I can\u2019t help you.\u201d The girl immediately stepped back to shut the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cI just want to ask him the time,\u201d Holland blurted.<\/p>\n

The girl froze. \u201cAre you sure about that, hon?\u201d She followed her question with a look that said Holland would be wise to walk away right now and take the cute boy with her.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s sure,\u201d Jake said. \u201cI want to know the time, too.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cReally?\u201d Holland asked.<\/p>\n

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, his skin warm against hers. \u201cIf you\u2019re doing it, I\u2019m in, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

She wanted to ask what had changed his mind, but she was suddenly feeling too much nervous excitement.<\/p>\n

The girl in white muttered something under her breath. It sounded like the word fools. Then she disappeared behind the door.<\/p>\n

Time slowed inside the milk-glass hall as Holland waited for the girl to come back. Jake\u2019s arm grew hot against her shoulder. This time, she felt like the uncomfortable one, hoping the girl would actually return.<\/p>\n

Finally, the curios door reopened. The girl emerged, holding out pens and slips of paper that had carbon attached to the back. She pursed her lips. \u201cIf you two are certain about this, write down your names, along with the requested information, and the Watch Man will be in touch.\u201d<\/p>\n

Excerpted from ALCHEMY OF SECRETS by Stephanie Garber. Copyright \u00a9 2025 by Stephanie Garber. Reprinted with permission from Flatiron Books. All rights reserved.<\/strong>
<\/p>\n

Audio excerpted with permission of Macmillan Audio from ALCHEMY OF SECRETS<\/a> <\/strong>by Stephanie Garber, read by Sutton Foster. \u00a9 Stephanie Garber \u2117 2025 Macmillan Audio.<\/strong>
<\/p>\n

Alchemy of Secrets, by Stephanie Garber will be released on October 7, 2025 from Flatiron Books<\/a>. To preorder the book, click on the retailer of your choice:<\/p>\n

AMAZON<\/a> AUDIBLE<\/a> BARNES & NOBLE<\/a> BOOKS-A-MILLION<\/a> BOOKSHOP<\/a> APPLE BOOKS<\/a> KOBO<\/a> LIBRO.FM<\/a> TARGET<\/a> WALMART<\/a> POWELL’S BOOKS<\/a> HUDSON BOOKSELLERS<\/a> <\/strong>GOOGLE PLAY<\/a><\/strong> EBOOKS.COM<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Stephanie Garber spins pure magic in her books and her adult debut is absolutely no exception. Fans have…\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":218694,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[31],"tags":[1022,2392,119345,1201,171,3181,2875,119344,67,132,68],"class_list":{"0":"post-218693","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-books","8":"tag-books","9":"tag-content-type-feature","10":"tag-contentid-2a3d8add-ffd5-446f-ae8d-1fb871ef859e","11":"tag-displaytype-standard-article","12":"tag-entertainment","13":"tag-hasproduct-true","14":"tag-locale-us","15":"tag-shorttitle-stephanie-garbers-alchemy-of-secrets-excerpt-kicks-off-her-most-magical-tale-yet","16":"tag-united-states","17":"tag-unitedstates","18":"tag-us"},"share_on_mastodon":{"url":"https:\/\/pubeurope.com\/@us\/115186808380257197","error":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/218693","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=218693"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/218693\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/218694"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=218693"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=218693"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=218693"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}