Rory is an omega prince, heir to the throne of the magical kingdom of Igella. His country's laws dictate that omegas must have a Regent to rule in their stead-and that the Regent must be an Alpha. Rory's wicked stepmother, Queen Berenda, needs to find an unscrupulous Alpha, because she has nefarious plans for her stepson.

When ghostwriter Maz Amani inherits a house from an uncle he’s never heard of, he offers heartfelt thanks to the universe, packs up his car, his cat, and his skepticism about mysterious uncles leaving all their worldly goods to unknown nephews, and high-tails it to a small town halfway to the Oregon coast. Anything would be better than week after week of couch surfing his way around Portland. Even if the alleged house is a rundown shack ridden with termites, spiders, and—shudder—rats, he’ll deal. Because hey, he owns a house!

Ash is technically a fire mage, but he can't do much. Turning his bedroom lights on and off without having to get out of bed isn't exactly awe inspiring, not when anyone with the right gadget could clap and do the same thing. Worse, sometimes he senses something bigger and brighter lurking under his skin, and it feels so familiar he knows it has to be his magic, but then he burps or sneezes, and the feeling passes. So it's probably just allergies . . . or gas. Yeah . . . Not exactly brimming with magical oomph. Not anymore. It sucks.

I’ve never been attracted to guys. I definitely would never be attracted to a privileged, cocky bastard like Brad Henning. Even though I’ve only been at St. Lawrence University for a few weeks, this prick and his friends are on a mission to mess with me—a scholarship kid who I guess they don’t think belongs at a prestigious school intended for the nation’s elite.

Lucas used to be a normal person. Was it really so bad that he had a job he didn't like, and he still lived with his parents? At least he didn't have balls of light shooting out of him. Oh wait. Yes, he does. And he's not sure why it's happening or what to do about it. But it gets worse. Way worse and deadlier than Lucas had ever thought possible. Running for his life, he ends up in a small town named Saint Lakes and right into the arms of a dragon shifter who claims to be his fated mate.

Something is very wrong with the Fitzwilliam estate. It was supposed to be a regular seance job. But from the minute I met an angry ghost in the hall, I knew there wasn't going to be anything ordinary about this house or its dead residents. First of all, there were way too many of them. Second, some of them had been helped along from living to dead. Third, my attempt to figure out what was going on got a bit sidetracked when I met the gardener. He was tall, dark green, and handsome. And really, really smart. So I hired him to help me figure out what was going on.

Whisper doesn’t remember his real name. All he knows is the elite assassin guild that raised him—and controls him with the threat of blood magic. Plagued by nightmares, he doesn’t get to refuse assignments, even when his new job doesn’t make sense: infiltrate Prince Julien’s court, protect him until the signal arrives, then kill him.

Sometimes being a crown prince was incredible, and sometimes you were just royally screwed. The Fenrir shifters had ruled Cadmeera successfully for thousands of years and Crown Prince Raz'mar Kinsharae was determined his reign would be as successful as his father’s. Unfortunately, no king could be crowned without bonding with an omega consort, an ancient magical ritual that had to take place first, and so far none of the omegas put forward were his bond mate.

Paris's path is clear, his future settled. He's trained his whole life in politics and the running of a kingdom. He's going to be an adviser to the future king, his beloved prince. But when his father dies unexpectedly, the current king takes the opportunity to get rid of him, sending him to the barbaric southern tribe lands of Nemeda as a diplomat. No one has ever returned from the tribes alive.

What happens when you fall and hit the webtoons trope tree? You get killed by Truck-kun, get transported to a fantasy world by a sentient Fae coin, and become the first gay holy maiden. Jake Alexander is Not Happy to be sure. Fortunately in Jake's case, part of the trope tree includes the gorgeous Duke of the North, Theon. And starting a business from scratch, which he's always wanted to do. And revitalizing his new country which is on the verge of collapse.

Pixies are supposed to be petite, beautifully lithe creatures with gossamer wings. Sporting luscious, ombre pink hair and fluttering pink wings, Phil meets two out of three of those criteria. At over six feet tall, no one would dare call Phil petite. As a home-and-hearth pixie, Phil yearns to find a home and family he can bond to. When no one's willing to hire a pixie of his stature, Phil is forced to find work elsewhere. Turns out, pixies make terrible bouncers.

Evan just wants a quiet life where he escapes into books, drinks a ridiculous amount of coffee, and devours every muffin in sight. But then he's transported to another world with magic, sword-wielding knights with big... hearts, and men who find him too adorable to resist.

Nick has no direction in his life, as his mother often reminds him. He works paycheck to paycheck, which becomes a problem when the paychecks stop coming in. When he's offered an opportunity to work off his rent, Nick decides there are worse things in life than being a super, especially when the job includes free rent. There is, however, a catch. His landlord is a vampire, and he needs more from Nick than maintenance and renter-wrangling. He needs Nick's blood.

Hex, Indiana is the one place Gabe has found acceptance as a nephilim. He keeps his head down and enjoys his work at the one bar in town while making sure stray feathers don’t find their way into the wrong hands. Tending his beloved plants helps him stay busy, but he longs for someone to care for.

Maybe I have an overactive imagination, but the hot guy next door totally gives off serial killer vibes. Why else would he know how long it takes to bleed out from a wound? Yeah, ok, so I asked, but it was research. Being an author definitely makes for some odd questions (someone had better clear my browser history when I die, that's all I'm saying). It's not like I'm stalking my hot neighbor or anything—there's nothing wrong with watching him out my window. Although I might have my own stalker (and not the cute harmless kind), which is kind of terrifying.