Annie Atkin

/ Writer /

Amateur Bagel Baker
Jigsaw Puzzle Expert
Lover of Sweaters
Laundry Slacker

Devil in the Daylight out now!

coming Fall 2026!

There's no wrong way to chase your dreams.

Annie Atkin writes badass female characters in beautifully detailed settings—whether that’s in the crosshairs of the Wild West or under the snow-covered sheen of a Viking longhouse.

Her debut novel, Devil in the Daylight, features a strong female protagonist, lush setting, and a cheeky love interest.

What readers say

about Devil in the Daylight.

Lisa Mundt

Such a fun read! Full of adventure and finding kindness in unlikely places. It’s refreshing to read a book where the female lead is ~real~ and that includes being flawed. I felt a deep connection to the characters and was immersed in the terrain! I can’t wait to read the next one!

Life in an old Missouri town weighs heavily on its' residents; the consequences of their choices make for a suspenseful adventurous story. The Author, Annie Atkin's, writing style easily draws you in and keeps you hooked.

Cinny

I love Maggie, she is strong, courageous, determined even while shaking in her boots. She feels the need to prove herself, to show that she’s worthy, to be seen and understood.

J.P. Stewart

This book really caught me by surprise when I first read it. A sweeping wild west story of revenge and survival with unforgettable characters and a plot that pulls you in and never lets you go.

Cannot put this book down! Great story. Beautifully written. Perfect holiday reading.

BLOOD AND WATER

COMING SOON

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With one hand still twisted in the reins, I work my other fingers under the rope, forcing my hand, then arm, up to throw off the lariat. The rope goes slack—too slack—then a solid form carries me over and off my horse.

He’s scrappy, using bony knuckles and sharp elbows to find every vulnerable spot on my body. I give as good as I get—at least, I think I do. Hard to tell what I’m hitting in the blinding downpour, and more often than not I think I’ve gotten a fistful of shirt or hair only to find nothing but mud between my fingers.

Somehow, this scrap of a man gets his knees across my chest, pressing me back into the soggy ground. Lightning spits his face into my vision, except—

“You’re a girl?” I ask, like a muttonhead.

She answers by slamming her head into mine, and everything goes coal dust.