It’s been more than twenty years since tragedy prompted Luna Valens to walk away from her pack. Scarred by her past, she’s done her best to lead a normal human life. Thanks to a potion that suppresses her magic, nobody around her has a clue that she’s a werewolf. Until… Her potion supplier disappears, her family reestablishes contact, and a mysterious werewolf with a metal detector and a penchant for calling her my lady saunters into her life.

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.

Nava Katz traded a lost dream for an impressively cynical attitude. The one thing she does care about? Her hard-working twin brother. Then she interrupts his induction ceremony into a secret supernatural society, accidentally torches his life-long ambition, and steals his destiny. Wait—whaaaat? She expects to be chastised, not thrown into a trial by fire, battling demons to keep humanity safe while she’s learning to master her powers and facing her worst nightmare: a purpose.

Fae trespassing in her woods is the least of Aileen's problems when her best friend comes under magical attack on the same night. Aileen soon finds herself neck deep in trouble as news reaches her that the local Fae burrow has fallen and the werewolf pack she counts as ally has been taken hostage. To save them, Aileen will be forced to travel across country to Las Vegas, the territory of a dangerous supernatural. And home to the secrets of one close to her. Soon, she'll find her enemies have joined hands. Their goal—the death of Aileen and the entire vampire line she belongs to.

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.

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.

Ofelia Archer is the top witch in New Orlean’s French Quarter, who also owns the premiere supernatural speakeasy in the state, and she’s not to be trifled with. Zach Sully is one of the top detectives with the police department…and one of only a handful of law enforcement representatives in the city who is in on the big paranormal secret. Of course, as a panther-shifter, he’s part of that secret. Together, they make a fearsome duo...who have to learn to trust one another if they’re going to keep the monsters in the Big Easy in check.

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.

Okay, I might be seriously under-qualified for the job of Enforcer, I'll admit. The Enforcer is supposed to be a human, for starters. It's usually an ex-special forces guy with big muscles and even bigger balls, and a knack for sorting out petty squabbles between the witches and vampires and shifters in the city. And I'm just a technically dead nail tech—an animated skeleton with a talent for illusion magic and gold gel manicures. But I've recently discovered that I can manifest some pretty big muscles of my own. I've already got the big balls, so I'm halfway there.

Ashira Cohen takes great pride in the detective agency she’s built from scratch. It may be small, but she has big dreams. None of which involve a stakeout gone wrong. Or finding a mysterious tattoo hidden on her scalp. Or discovering it’s a now-broken ward intended to suppress dangerous supernatural powers that she should not possess. Don’t even get her started on the golem. The only bright spot is that her unruly powers nearly kill her long-time nemesis, Levi, the uptight leader of the magic community. No, right… that’s a bad thing.

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.

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.

Immortality sucks. Just ask Imogen Gray—over two hundred thousand years old and teetering on the edge of total insanity. All throughout history, she's been hunted by an ancient creature who finds her and rips her to pieces every time she dares to access her deepest powers. But Imogen always regenerates. Slowly. Painfully.

Scarlett Prynne is new in town, but that won't stop trouble from finding the young witch. It always does. Before her brother kicked her through a magical portal that eventually landed her in nowhere Tonopah, Nevada, he called her an agent of chaos. But let's be fair. Our Scarlett doesn't create problems. Her magic just attracts it in all shapes and furry sizes. Like her familiar, Runeclaw. The black cat's tongue is as sharp as his nails, and he has a snark that can cut through just about anything. This time though, trouble was already here.

When Marty Andrews gets bitten by a mangy mutt while walking her teacup poodle, her blond hair darkens, the hair on her legs starts growing at an alarming rate, and her mood swings put her dream job as a sales rep for Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics in serious jeopardy. Then a drool-worthy man shows up at her door claiming that he accidentally bit Marty. And since he's a werewolf, she is now, too. Thinking Keegan Flaherty is clearly insane, Marty refuses to believe a word until a kidnapping makes her realize there's more at stake than just her highlights.

Ashira Cohen takes great pride in the detective agency she’s built from scratch. It may be small, but she has big dreams. None of which involve a stakeout gone wrong. Or finding a mysterious tattoo hidden on her scalp. Or discovering it’s a now-broken ward intended to suppress dangerous supernatural powers that she should not possess. Don’t even get her started on the golem. The only bright spot is that her unruly powers nearly kill her long-time nemesis, Levi, the uptight leader of the magic community. No, right… that’s a bad thing.

When Miri was a teen, her parents were murdered by magic assassins. These days, her aggressively normal existence as a law librarian at a boring firm has excellent medical insurance and won't get her daughter killed. But when her bestie, her ride-or-die, gets tangled up with some vampires and goes missing, Miriam unleashes the rare and powerful shadow magic she's kept hidden.

Nava Katz traded a lost dream for an impressively cynical attitude. The one thing she does care about? Her hard-working twin brother. Then she interrupts his induction ceremony into a secret supernatural society, accidentally torches his life-long ambition, and steals his destiny. Wait—whaaaat? She expects to be chastised, not thrown into a trial by fire, battling demons to keep humanity safe while she’s learning to master her powers and facing her worst nightmare: a purpose.

He is living proof life can suck. Scraping by paycheck to paycheck, this desperate "nice guy" is hungry for any break. And after John Hunter learns his fiancée is dumping him, his roommate is a vampire, and LA is infested with; werewolves, magic, fairies, and witches, a paid gig to hunt down a rogue chimera seems like his last shot.

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.

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.

Okay, I might be seriously under-qualified for the job of Enforcer, I'll admit. The Enforcer is supposed to be a human, for starters. It's usually an ex-special forces guy with big muscles and even bigger balls, and a knack for sorting out petty squabbles between the witches and vampires and shifters in the city. And I'm just a technically dead nail tech—an animated skeleton with a talent for illusion magic and gold gel manicures. But I've recently discovered that I can manifest some pretty big muscles of my own. I've already got the big balls, so I'm halfway there.

My name is Scarlett Mason, and on the surface, I’m just your average college student. What you don’t know: demons, Fae, Hellhounds, vampiric sorcerers, and a whole slew of creatures from the Underworld are very much real, and they walk among us. How do I know this? I’ve been training since I was ten years old to become a hunter in the hopes I’ll be able to find the monster responsible for killing my parents. But you know what they say about even the best-laid plan…

Grier Woolworth spends her nights weaving spooky tales of lost souls and tragedies for tourists on the streets of downtown Savannah. Hoop skirt and parasol aside, it's not a bad gig. The pay is crap, but the tips keep the lights on in her personal haunted mansion and her pantry stocked with ramen. Life is about as normal as it gets for an ex-necromancer hiding among humans - until the society that excommunicated Grier offers her a second chance at being more than ordinary. Too bad no one warned her the trouble with being extraordinary is it can get you killed.

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.

If there was one thing Torie Bliss knew, it was that her marriage and life of luxury were going to last for ever. Until they didn't. Torie finds herself doing the one thing she never imagined a woman over the age of forty would ever have to do: moving in with her mother. But that is exactly what she has to do as she picks up what's left of her life and dignity, and moves to Singing Falls. Little does Torie realize that not only had her mother settled into a town of supernaturals, but she herself was a witch, and it was Torie's destiny to take up the magical calling.

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.

"You may now kiss your bride". They were the last words my mother heard before she collapsed on the church steps, poison ending her pitifully short life. When her new husband dies minutes later, all eyes turn to me. There are whispers. Accusations. The verdict is split. I murdered them both. Or I'm the next to die.

For the last twelve years, Tavish, the King of the Unseelie Fae, focused on finding the key for taking back his rightful lands from the Seelie fae after they killed his parents. There was one problem that stood in his way—locating the Seelie Princess hidden on Earth. After years of haunting her dreams, he finally locates her and drags her back to their realm. She’s forgotten her fae life and wants to escape. He doesn’t care. He merely needs her blood in order to free his people. But she’s more than he remembers, and a spark ignites between them every time they touch.

I hunt demons. I don’t work for them. And I promised my mom one thing before she was murdered: Under no circumstances, would I ever go near the high demons. But I’ll break that promise over and over again if it helps me avenge her death. When my only lead turns to ash in the middle of demon territory, I’m suddenly a dead witch walking. Violence in Samael’s club is an automatic death sentence… unless he can use you.