I live with a pack of misfit shifters. We aren't going to be winning any popularity contests, but our hodgepodge bunch is more loyal than even the strongest pred packs. I should know. I grew up in one of them. As soon as they realized I was different, I was despised, even by my own family. So I left, joined Pack Aberrant, and I've steered clear of alpha pred assholes ever since. Until my heatwave hits, and I accidentally jump three coyote shifters in a parking lot. Whoopsie.

Six years ago, I awoke in a cage with no knowledge of who I was or where I’d come from. Six years ago, I was spared the flesh markets and instead thrown in with a group of savages, where I learned it was fight or die. Now, eight Orders of Assassins are converging on the only home I’ve ever known. All in hopes of purchasing new blade slaves for their ranks. I’m for sale, yet all I want is a life far from death and ownership. Then I meet them, the Order of Scorpions. Their allure is a threat to the freedom I crave, but I won’t fall victim to their sting, no matter how tempting it might be.

It’s never a good combo to be broke and desperate. You do stupid things. Like accidentally sign your soul over to hell. When I interviewed for a new security job, I didn’t bat an eye that it was for a literal graveyard shift...headstones and all. I mean, at the hourly rate they were offering, who cares? I got this. Turns out, I’m not guarding a graveyard like I thought. It seems I’ve just walked my broke ass into protecting a gate to hell. Yeah...I don’t got this.

I am a latent wolf shifter. Or so I thought. Then, life as I knew it changed in a flash - or more accurately, an electrocution. I’ve woken up in a strange place, surrounded by strange people who hate me. They’re in the middle of a war, and I look like I belong on the wrong side of it. If that’s not enough to qualify as a really bad day, I now have wings and a strange animal to figure out because it turns out that there’s not a damn latent thing about me.

I never thought in a million years that the bones would choose me. The power, the magic, was supposed to go to someone else in the family. I was counting on it. But now my Grammy Ruby is gone, and here the bones sit on my kitchen table. I thought bitter relatives would be my biggest problem. But I’ve barely had time to find a familiar before trouble comes a-knocking. The kind that possesses smoldering green eyes and a smile that can turn any woman dumb. His name is Rogan Kendrick, and he’s certain that someone is hunting down and taking my kind. According to him, I’m next.

Real wolves bite...I was taught my whole life about the importance of true mates, how when you find that one wolf for you, everything falls into place. Everyone who taught me that was a liar. When I found my true mate, happily ever after sure as hell didn't start, but hell definitely began. I ran away, and now I've been searching for peace for weeks as I drive around the country. I didn't mean to take the wrong road. I didn't mean to make it to that small town. And I didn't mean to meet two men, who set me and my wolf on fire.

You'd think that basically being in charge of love would be an epic job, right? Wrong. Sure, I can blow some Lust into people's faces and watch the show, but I can't actually participate. It gets old, trust me. Same goes for love. I can pass it out like sugar-free lollipops at a dentist's office, but I can't get any love for myself. It totally sucks. I used to consider myself a hopeless romantic, so why wouldn't I choose to become a cupid? Sounds like a good idea, right? Wrong again. They don't call us stupid cupids for nothing.

Here’s what I know. Being a cupid is hard work. Love Matches, Lust Breath, Flirt Touches, not to mention having to meet my quotas every month. And hitting your target with arrows? That shit is not easy. But all of that I could handle. Gladly. If only my cupid powers would actually work. The clock is ticking, but I have the perfect candidate to start with. Warren Knight. Smart, hot as hell, rich, bachelor-dud extraordinaire. Of course, the asshole doesn’t want to fall in love, so I have my work cut out for me.

My whole life has been characterized by fighting; fighting my family and fighting for my life. Trust me—the first one is completely voluntary, and a lot of fun. The second? Not so much. To say my family dynamic is weird is the understatement of the century. I held my first sword when I was only five years old, and I learned how to dispose of a body before I turned ten. I may have a penchant for pink and sparkles…but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to kick major ass as well.

When my parents were murdered in cold blood, life became a shock in more ways than one. Obviously, my parents were sheltering me, and for good reason. Not only am I a dragoness, but there’s also a slightly insane-sounding prophecy. Something powerful has been asleep inside of me, lurking in the shadows. My spine is tingling, how about yours? I’m supposed to save the world. But first, I have a score to settle. Oh, and to fulfill the prophecy, I’m supposed to take on a mate. Or…more accurately, mates. As in, more than one. My inner beast is super-excited about it.

I’ve walked the streets of Phoenix Valley for twenty two years knowing exactly who I am: an orphan, a human, a nobody. Summoned by The Hex to test my humanity, I was prepared to fail, destined to be the same mundane girl. I was wrong. Pandora’s Box called to me, sensing a magic I never knew existed. With my world turned upside down and full of possibilities, I must now call Paradise Heights home. To live amongst supernaturals, attend Saints Academy, and find my place.

Moving to a new town to start college, where I can try to be normal. Or at least pretend I am. I’m willing to fake it, because I’m tired of trying to get better. Tired of spilling my guts to doctors and therapists to understand why I’ve heard voices since I was a child.

I did a bad, bad thing. Thanks to a blank in my memory, I'm not sure what that thing was, but it was horrible enough to get me locked up in the psych ward for seven years.

I have huge man problems—literally—since one of my mates is a T-Rex. Things are about to get interesting, because my day job happens to be in a museum, a museum full of dinosaur bones, if you know what I mean. It turns out my bloodline is older than dirt, and an ancestral matchmaker decided to send me some gifts…aka, men. And not just any men, but dinosaur shifters from the past.

Six days ago, astronaut Mark Watney became one of the first people to walk on Mars. Now, he's sure he'll be the first person to die there. After a dust storm nearly kills him and forces his crew to evacuate while thinking him dead, Mark finds himself stranded and completely alone with no way to even signal Earth that he’s alive - and even if he could get word out, his supplies would be gone long before a rescue could arrive. But Mark isn't ready to give up yet.

It’s never a good combo to be broke and desperate. You do stupid things. Like accidentally sign your soul over to hell. When I interviewed for a new security job, I didn’t bat an eye that it was for a literal graveyard shift...headstones and all. I mean, at the hourly rate they were offering, who cares? I got this. Turns out, I’m not guarding a graveyard like I thought. It seems I’ve just walked my broke ass into protecting a gate to hell. Yeah...I don’t got this.

I live with a pack of misfit shifters. We aren't going to be winning any popularity contests, but our hodgepodge bunch is more loyal than even the strongest pred packs. I should know. I grew up in one of them. As soon as they realized I was different, I was despised, even by my own family. So I left, joined Pack Aberrant, and I've steered clear of alpha pred assholes ever since. Until my heatwave hits, and I accidentally jump three coyote shifters in a parking lot. Whoopsie.

Don't get me wrong, waking up to discover my ex-husband finally killed me wasn't fun. Finding out I had to get a job and pay Afterlife taxes about 10 minutes later? Let's just say, this wasn't exactly the eternal reward I was hoping for. But beggars can't be choosers, and being a demon sure as hell beats my last occupation. I’m well on my way to retirement behind the pearly gates when the impossible happens. The Risk Witches have a vision.

I am a latent wolf shifter. Or so I thought. Then, life as I knew it changed in a flash - or more accurately, an electrocution. I’ve woken up in a strange place, surrounded by strange people who hate me. They’re in the middle of a war, and I look like I belong on the wrong side of it. If that’s not enough to qualify as a really bad day, I now have wings and a strange animal to figure out because it turns out that there’s not a damn latent thing about me.

Real wolves bite...I was taught my whole life about the importance of true mates, how when you find that one wolf for you, everything falls into place. Everyone who taught me that was a liar. When I found my true mate, happily ever after sure as hell didn't start, but hell definitely began. I ran away, and now I've been searching for peace for weeks as I drive around the country. I didn't mean to take the wrong road. I didn't mean to make it to that small town. And I didn't mean to meet two men, who set me and my wolf on fire.

Here’s what I know. Being a cupid is hard work. Love Matches, Lust Breath, Flirt Touches, not to mention having to meet my quotas every month. And hitting your target with arrows? That shit is not easy. But all of that I could handle. Gladly. If only my cupid powers would actually work. The clock is ticking, but I have the perfect candidate to start with. Warren Knight. Smart, hot as hell, rich, bachelor-dud extraordinaire. Of course, the asshole doesn’t want to fall in love, so I have my work cut out for me.

You'd think that basically being in charge of love would be an epic job, right? Wrong. Sure, I can blow some Lust into people's faces and watch the show, but I can't actually participate. It gets old, trust me. Same goes for love. I can pass it out like sugar-free lollipops at a dentist's office, but I can't get any love for myself. It totally sucks. I used to consider myself a hopeless romantic, so why wouldn't I choose to become a cupid? Sounds like a good idea, right? Wrong again. They don't call us stupid cupids for nothing.

Evie doesn't remember a life before she was on the streets, a life before thieving to live and killing to stay alive. When a royal family she didn't know anything about goes missing, Evie finds herself thrown into the royal court of the protectors, and they demand her help. Help in exchange for a chance at freedom and the name that's haunted her, forgotten. A name she can’t even read, a name she doesn’t understand.

"Happy birthday, Raven. Welcome to Noir Reformatory." Not what every girl wants to hear on her 18th birthday, but I accepted my fate long ago. I was born with black wings, earning me a permanent jail sentence from day one. A noir angel for life. That's fine. I'll own this prison just like I did back home. Even if it's ruled by two hot kings.

My name is Vinna, and I've been keeping a lot of secrets. You would too if you'd experienced some of the weird shit I have: red-eyed monsters chasing me, markings on my body appearing out of nowhere, a strange power that crackles colorfully over my skin from time to time, and don't get me started on the weapons I can conjure up almost out of nowhere.