Being a private investigator wasn’t supposed to be complicated. I expected cheating spouses and missing pets like BonBon, a kidnapped ‘pure-bred Schnoodle’ with a ruby-studded collar. What I didn’t expect was a desperate elf on my doorstep, begging for help to find her missing parents. Nor did I think that my search would drag me back into the magical world I’d tried so hard to leave behind.

When a body is found pulverised beyond recognition, I’m called to investigate. As Chester’s only magical Detective Inspector, it’s my job to handle the cases the Common police can’t. This one has all the hallmarks of the Other Realm—especially when I find a talking bird caged at the scene.

I’m Lucy, alpha werewolf of a pack that hates me. I inherited the pack when I mercy-killed the current alpha at his behest. I did the right thing, but it’s left me head of a werewolf pack who resent that I still live and breathe while their old alpha doesn't.

Someone paid the vampire king’s creepy son to turn me into one of the bitey undead. I’m not hanging about to find out who or why. The vampires want me to stay with them for one hundred years of indentured servitude but I have this thing about following orders so I ran from the streets of London to the wilds of Alaska. I have an eidetic memory and a can-do attitude. I can-do anything to get away from the vampire king. So when the Sheriff of Portlock, a hidden paranormal town, invites me to be his assistant, I say sure thing. It beats servitude hands down.

I’m Jinx. As a private investigator, being a walking, talking lie detector is a useful skill—but let’s face it, it’s not normal. You’d think it would make my job way too easy, but even with my weird skills, I still haven’t been able to track down my parent’s killers. When I’m hired to find a missing university student, I hope to find her propped up at a bar—yet my gut tells me there’s more to this case than a party girl gone wild.

I can turn into a housecat. It’s a fun magic, except in a world filled with vampires and werewolves, it doesn’t exactly make me a powerhouse. Instead, the supernatural community has classified me as an outcast, which means one thing: picking on me is open season all day, every day. The local fae are the worst of all, and it’s during one of their regular “capture the cat-girl” sessions that I shift into my cat form and meet HIM for the first time.

Luna Thorn appeared in a swirl of pink lights with no memory of where she came from or why she was suddenly in Detroit of all places. Now, years later, she’s positioned herself as a beacon of good in a very dark place. That means it’s time to figure out where she belongs. With the help of the friendly neighborhood reapers, Luna is about to embark on an adventure that will have her traveling through time and facing the sort of terror that she never expected to come up against.

Kit McCafferty's life is quiet, unremarkable, and filled with cat hair. In the magical city of Coldstream, located on the border between Scotland and England, Kit is viewed as little more than mildly eccentric and mostly harmless. She passes her days caring for her family of five cats, feeding the local feral moggies, and maintaining relatively good relations with her neighbors. All that changes, however, when a teenage werewolf shows up at her door in the desperate hope of renting out a nearby vacant flat.

Mary Frances Talbot—Frankie—is a necromancer, probably. Hard to say since she never met her parents. She can see the dead, talk to the dead, and a few other things that aren't strictly legal. It's fine. No worries. As long as she doesn't get caught. The whole not getting caught thing was going well until Samuel Harrow blew back into town wearing a Savannah Police Department uniform. He might be a witch, but he hates magic. He's not a fan of Frankie either. Which explains why he's her ex.

Lorelei Clay isn’t like other people. She isn’t even like other supernaturals. Her specialties are the nightmares of the living, communication with the dead, and cooking bacon until it’s golden brown and perfectly crispy—no magic required.

Scout Randall always considered herself a big-city girl. Then she got transferred to rural northern Lower Michigan by Spell’s Angels, the monster-hunting biker gang that’s been her sole reason for being since her tempestuous teenage years, and everything she thought she believed started to shift. This three-book omnibus includes: Bad to the Crone, No Crones About It, and No Crone Unturned.

Welcome to The Slaughtered Lamb Bookstore and Bar. I'm Sam Quinn, the werewolf book nerd in charge. I run my business by one simple rule: Everyone needs a good book and a stiff drink, be they vampire, wicche, demon, or fae. No wolves, though. Ever. I serve the supernatural community of San Francisco. We've been having some problems lately. Okay, I'm the one with the problems. The broken body of a female werewolf washed up on my doorstep. What makes sweat pool at the base of my spine, though, is realizing the scars she bears are identical to the ones I conceal.

By night, they fight in a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse. By day, they are friendly next-door neighbors. Neither of them know that their alter egos are archenemies. I’ve spent my life training in the family business of slaying vampires, but I’m tired of all the death. I want to prove we slayers can help society, not just break it. I start my new life by joining the Magiford supernatural task force, which exists to protect humans and supernaturals from harmful magic.

The fact that she’s a werecat is just something she’s had to live with Alone in her territory, she’s lived a secretive life for six years: under the radar, avoiding her past and the baggage that comes with it. Trouble finds Jacky, though, in the form of an 11-year-old girl and a werewolf turf war just outside her borders. Forced to honor an ancient treaty and the Laws of the supernatural world, Jacky swears an oath to protect Carey Everson, the human daughter of a local werewolf Alpha from Dallas.

Everyone’s welcome at the Stag—vampire, wolf or human. As long as they don’t make trouble. Or ask too many questions about what we’re selling out of the back room. I keep the beers coming, and in return the town keeps my secret. But when a gang of deadly vampires shows up at the bar, it’s clear they’re not looking for a drink. They want to take my business. Or my blood. But this is more than just a shake down. All over town, people are dropping like flies. Disappearing or attacking their neighbors. It’s like they’re possessed. And someone—or something—is pulling the strings.

I’m Lucy, alpha werewolf of a pack that hates me. I inherited the pack when I mercy-killed the current alpha at his behest. I did the right thing, but it’s left me head of a werewolf pack who resent that I still live and breathe while their old alpha doesn't.

When a body is found pulverised beyond recognition, I’m called to investigate. As Chester’s only magical Detective Inspector, it’s my job to handle the cases the Common police can’t. This one has all the hallmarks of the Other Realm—especially when I find a talking bird caged at the scene.

Being a private investigator wasn’t supposed to be complicated. I expected cheating spouses and missing pets like BonBon, a kidnapped ‘pure-bred Schnoodle’ with a ruby-studded collar. What I didn’t expect was a desperate elf on my doorstep, begging for help to find her missing parents. Nor did I think that my search would drag me back into the magical world I’d tried so hard to leave behind.

A deadly assassin. A desperate witch. A past that won’t stay buried. I’m Amber DeLea—ambitious witch, potion mistress extraordinaire, and daughter to a woman slipping further away each day. My life is a constant battle, whether it’s cursed runes, treacherous coven politics, or dark forces closing in. But nothing haunts me more than my mother’s unravelling mind, and I’m running out of time to find a cure. The last thing I need is Bastion—the deadly griffin assassin who shattered my world—being ordered to protect me.

Lorelei Clay isn’t like other people. She isn’t even like other supernaturals. Her specialties are the nightmares of the living, communication with the dead, and cooking bacon until it’s golden brown and perfectly crispy—no magic required.