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.

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!

Jeremy has always wanted to befriend mythical creatures, play with forbidden magic, and meet his fated mate. Okay, okay. He knows the difference between fiction and real life; he is an author after all . . . Or he would be if he ever got to "The End" on one of his stories. So he realizes his desire to live inside a fantasy romance novel is a touch unrealistic, but where is the joy in living a life that is boring and predictable and overwhelmingly blah?

Shunned by most species and abandoned by their warlock fathers, necromancers are marginalized, feared, and reclusive. Erasmus Boone is different. His warlock father chose love instead of abandonment. Unusually powerful and talented, Boone embraced his necromantic abilities and managed to carve out an existence within a world that would rather he not exist at all.

Weirdly, people don’t react overly well when you’re caught standing over the dead body of a murderer who’d walked free. It’s not that I thought my fellow homicide detective would rejoice when he saw what I’d done, but is a pat on the back too much to ask for? Maybe a gold star at the very least? The problem is that the person who caught me is Gabriel, the only person I care for and adore… and he’s prepared to look the other way if I leave homicide and promise to never kill again.

Jeremy has always wanted to befriend mythical creatures, play with forbidden magic, and meet his fated mate. Okay, okay. He knows the difference between fiction and real life; he is an author after all . . . Or he would be if he ever got to "The End" on one of his stories. So he realizes his desire to live inside a fantasy romance novel is a touch unrealistic, but where is the joy in living a life that is boring and predictable and overwhelmingly blah?

Jake is absolutely, completely ordinary, even if he has a weird painting affliction. Painting is relaxing, right? It helps. It's a form of art therapy. Even if his painting is the subconscious kind. The middle-of-the-night, paint-while-you-sleep kind. The kind that makes him puke every single time it happens. Okay. So, maybe that’s not exactly normal. But when a sexy but presumably imaginary guy with horns, who Jake's strange painterly alter-ego has been fixated on for the last year, suddenly shows up in town with horns and all, Jake doesn't know what to think.

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.

Getting kidnapped and held hostage in a human trafficker's basement was not on my bingo card. Getting rescued by a paranormal being was also not on my bingo card. (Apparently, I needed to trade in bingo cards.) The guy who took me may be dead, but I know there are more people behind the operation, and I plan to shut it down. If I need to get the help of one of the creepy glowing-eyed dudes to do it, I will. It turns out Liam is incredibly sexy and really good with technology, too. He may be great at hacking into computers, but I'm determined to hack my way into his life.

Shunned by most species and abandoned by their warlock fathers, necromancers are marginalized, feared, and reclusive. Erasmus Boone is different. His warlock father chose love instead of abandonment. Unusually powerful and talented, Boone embraced his necromantic abilities and managed to carve out an existence within a world that would rather he not exist at all.