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.

The horror of waking up from the best dream ever and remembering you're a monster is indescribable. My soul is screaming for mercy, for forgiveness, for redemption…but I know I'll never get it.

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.

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.

One moment, Susan Moore had a perfect life—a handsome husband, a fabulous career, wonderful friends, and a gorgeous home in Pacific Heights, San Francisco. The next minute, it was all gone. And Susan found herself in a straitjacket, locked in a padded room.

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.

Arwen Forester may be a socially awkward introvert, but she’s an expert tracker, archer, and forager who has a pickling recipe for every vegetable in the garden. Unfortunately, none of these skills earn her a lot of money. And when the taxes go up on her father’s farm, she’s not sure how to help him keep the property. Then someone offers her a lucrative new gig: Hunt down a haughty half-dragon criminal with the power to incinerate those who irritate him.

Aviva Fleischer hides a dangerous secret. She’s carefully concealing her infernal heritage, a.k.a. Cherry Bomb. Maybe it’s weird naming her demon side and referring to her in the third person, but guys do the same with their junk, and unlike most of them, Avi isn’t deluded about Cherry’s prowess.

Hadley Whitaker is a liar, a killer, and a chocoholic, but she's getting better about the first two. Or maybe she's just getting better at them. Some days it's hard for her to tell fact from fiction, but only one truth matters. Goddess willing, she's going to be the next Potentate of Atlanta. Even if it means playing nice with Midas Kinase, a shifter whose mysterious past might just be grimmer than her own. When a bloodthirsty rogue begins hunting the city's paranormals, Hadley ropes Midas into letting her work the case. But that rope starts to feel more like a noose.

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.

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.

Moving across the country and opening a costume shop was supposed to be my chance for a normal life. What I wanted was a fresh start, one where the biggest danger would be a carelessly wielded sewing needle. What I ended up with was a trail of dead bodies, a power I didn't ask for, and a host of enemies with ties to my twin sister's decade-old murder. Throw in a stony-eyed enforcer I can't seem to shake and a new goat shifter BFF, and I'm knee deep in trouble.

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.

Ten years ago, I "died", and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I should have known it wouldn't last. Once my family thought I was dead I was finally free to live. Until the day my brother walks into my tiny book shop....

I woke up with fangs, a thirst for blood, and no memories of my past. To add to my confusion, the Grim Reaper is inexplicably hell-bent on ending me. Who would've thought that the God of the Dead would wear designer suits and ooze power and danger like a mob boss straight from the underworld?

Ryland Grace is the sole survivor on a desperate, last-chance mission - and if he fails, humanity and the Earth itself will perish. Except that right now, he doesn't know that. He can't even remember his own name, let alone the nature of his assignment or how to complete it. All he knows is that he's been asleep for a very, very long time. And he's just been awakened to find himself millions of miles from home, with nothing but two corpses for company.

It’s 1984, and life has changed beyond recognition. Airstrip One, formerly known as Great Britain, is a place where Big Brother is always watching, and nobody can hide. Except, perhaps, for Winston Smith. Whilst working at the Ministry of Truth, rewriting history, he secretly dreams of freedom. And in a world where love and sex are forbidden, where it’s hard to distinguish between friend and foe, he meets Julia and O’Brien and vows to rebel.

Inheriting your uncle's supervillain business is more complicated than you might think. Particularly when you discover who's running the place. Charlie's life is going nowhere fast. A divorced substitute teacher living with his cat in a house his siblings want to sell, all he wants is to open a pub downtown, if only the bank will approve his loan. Then his long-lost uncle Jake dies and leaves his supervillain business (complete with island volcano lair) to Charlie. But becoming a supervillain isn't all giant laser death rays and lava pits.

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.

Jazz Bashara is a criminal. Well, sort of. Life on Artemis, the first and only city on the moon, is tough if you're not a rich tourist or an eccentric billionaire. So smuggling in the occasional harmless bit of contraband barely counts, right? Not when you've got debts to pay and your job as a porter barely covers the rent. Everything changes when Jazz sees the chance to commit the perfect crime, with a reward too lucrative to turn down.