When my most hated enemy, Bastion, comes to me for help I tell him to take a long walk off a short pier. I’m not helping the griffin assassin that once killed my lover. But when the Crone visits my coven, she tells me that I have to help him find his daughter or else I won’t achieve my full potential.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Brigid Donovan is down on her luck. Her husband dumped her for the biggest stereotype around, his secretary, and her family mansion is a decaying wreck. All she wants is to get it restored, enjoy the peace and quiet of living in eight hundred acres of primordial forest, and rebuild her life. Fate seems to be against her. First, her cat starts to speak to her. And what does he say? He's not what he seems to be—seriously? Like a talking cat is normal.

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.

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.

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.

When my most hated enemy, Bastion, comes to me for help I tell him to take a long walk off a short pier. I’m not helping the griffin assassin that once killed my lover. But when the Crone visits my coven, she tells me that I have to help him find his daughter or else I won’t achieve my full potential.

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.

Brigid Donovan is down on her luck. Her husband dumped her for the biggest stereotype around, his secretary, and her family mansion is a decaying wreck. All she wants is to get it restored, enjoy the peace and quiet of living in eight hundred acres of primordial forest, and rebuild her life. Fate seems to be against her. First, her cat starts to speak to her. And what does he say? He's not what he seems to be—seriously? Like a talking cat is normal.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Half-bloods with Thierry's skill set are given two options. They can join the conclave's marshal program, or they can pack their bags. Turn down the job offer, and you've just shredded your residency pass for the mortal realm and booked yourself a one-way ticket to Faerie. Texas is the only home Thierry has ever known, and she's not going anywhere. Even if it means following in her notorious father's footsteps as a peacekeeper. But pinning on the badge opens her eyes to the fact sometimes fae need protection too, and that sometimes humans are the real monsters.

World-famous (and now retired) photographer Jenvieve Adams has a debt to repay - and a soft spot for modern witches who have lost their way. Or so she thinks, until they actually show up.

Rejection bites...Cal and I were destined to be mates. Until he rejected me. Even though it’s been years, it still hurts like hell. But now Cal’s returned, and he says I’m the only who can help him. He’s convinced someone in my pack was responsible for his father’s death, and they’re endangering his mother. Unfortunately, my big brother isn’t pleased with our little reunion. He’s the pack’s new Alpha after our father died and he’s willing to throw me to the wolves to hold on to his throne. And he’s not the only one who is angry about Cal’s reappearance...

After a simple dinner with a god went very, very wrong, fae mage Chalmys was cursed to remain locked in his tiny realm. Until, that is, he could find someone to tell his story. All of his story. Easy enough, on the surface. However, revealing the truth of his origins will put his mother’s soul at risk, and he’s trapped in his realm alone. To share his story at all, Chalmys is forced to connect with bards through dreams, and after centuries of tangled tales gone wrong, he has nearly given up hope. Until the night he connects with her.

A succubus with dreams of owning a bakery meets three delicious demons with an offer she can’t refuse. But Adie’s never been one to roll over for anyone. While she might need them, she’ll make these powerful men work to claim her.

The fae of the Night Court are desperately searching for a new monarch to crown before the Court collapses. I couldn’t care less. I’ve done everything I can to bury my fae blood and embrace my human half. That changes when some fae nobles show up on my doorstep and announce that I’m the next Queen of the Night Court. Becoming an unwilling fae queen? Check. Inheriting a terrible mess? Double check.

Career-driven witch, Shayla Loci, is about to turn forty and is ready for a change. When she retires from capturing criminal supernaturals for the government, she figures her days of chasing bad guys are over. Little did she know her new job as the game warden on Enchanted Island would thrust her right back into harm's way . . . and she wasn't even officially on the clock yet! But when Sheriff Stone enlists her help to find out who killed an island resident, Shayla readily agrees. Between sorting through alibis, gathering clues, and mentoring a wayward teenager on how to be a witch.

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.