Ricardo Torralba and August Morrison don’t agree on much besides the fact that they hate each other. According to Ricardo, August is a spoiled brat who really needs to knock off the sass, once in a while. August insists that Ricardo needs a sense of humor, a good lay, or a well-placed bullet. Maybe all three. Fortunately, the assassin’s profession is a solitary one, and they can go about their lives without getting in each other’s way.

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.

Fred Brennan's father was a brutal man, both professionally and personally. When the kingpin died, Fred welcomed it, but not the brutal role he was thrust into. As a doctor, he's devoted his life to helping people. The last thing he wants is to fill his father's shoes, but after three years, he's no closer to offloading his dad's title onto someone else. As a mafia boss, he's forced to deal with the elite assassin organization, Lex Talionis . . . bringing him face to face with the man who runs it.

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!

Smart men never dabble with demons. I never claimed to be smart, but at least, I’m powerful enough to control them. When I bound Havoc to me nearly 300 years ago, I never realized how difficult he’d make my life, although “accidentally” lighting him on fire every now and then does bring a smile to my face. Havoc is handsome, mysterious, and somehow, my closest companion, even if we don’t always get along.

I've never been so scared in my life, but armed with a ski mask, a leather jacket, and a tennis racket, I'm ready to take on the flying demon . . . er, bat.

Xander Corey lives simply, sustainably, on the outskirts of Osprey, a small, quaint town in Upstate New York. He’s a librarian when the town’s budget can afford him, a good friend, kind neighbor, and also, a witch. And while that’s of no concern to anyone around him, there are others, non-humans, who have a vested interest in Xander’s family land. Xander knows something dark and dangerous is brewing. He’s just not quite sure what.

Nefarious Nights: Aiden, who protects a crime lord, ends up trading banter and kisses with the man he’s supposed to kill. Never Have I Ever Ridden a Bike: Owen’s penchant for opening packages propels him and his best friend (and hopeless crush) Lance into a race against time… and a pantsless bicycle ride?

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.

Tristan Everett has always preferred the company of the dead because they usually don't talk back. Being a somewhat awkward introvert working as a pathologist at the Hackney Public Mortuary suits him just fine. That is, until a freak accident with a rogue ice cube and suddenly he can see ghosts. Just when he thought his life couldn't get any weirder, sassy drag queen, Dusty Le Frey, is wheeled in with a toe tag and she's not prepared to go quietly into the light.

Escape to a Winter Wonderland with CEO and billionaire Colton Connolly as he embarks on a shenanigan-filled journey in search of the idyllic white Christmas he's always craved. Inspired by the enchantment of his favorite holiday movies, Colton surprises his beloved husband and their found family with a trip to the captivating mountain town of Winterhaven.

Former Army Ranger turned government assassin Álvaro Montero and CIA Officer Caiden Cardosa crossed paths two years ago in Vienna, where their encounter ended less than amicably—despite the explosive sexual chemistry between them. Now Caiden is riding a desk at Langley after his cover is blown. And Álvaro—who was “killed”—has a new identity and purpose as Delta/D, an operative for the Locke and Keyes Agency, under the leadership of the mysterious Orion.

Sascha has always felt powerless, the weak baby of a cruel family. But that’s fine. He has his looks, his ample allowance, and a smattering of one-night stands to keep him busy. But when Sascha’s oldest brother offends the wrong people, Sascha finds himself in hiding with a target on his back. And when poking around in his temporary home leads to accidentally summoning the hottest demon Sascha could ever imagine, he has to ask himself: does he want to feel powerless anymore?

Matt Russo knows better. Everyone does, but no one knows better than an attorney who routinely works with the fae: you watch what you say, or else you find yourself in the crosshairs of trickster magic. Or in this case, with an angel on one shoulder and a demon on the other. And the ridiculous bickering celestial beings aren’t going anywhere until they help him change his perpetual single status. Worse, if someone finds out he used magic for any kind of gain, his personal and professional reputations might never recover.

Maybe I have an overactive imagination, but the hot guy next door totally gives off serial killer vibes. Why else would he know how long it takes to bleed out from a wound? Yeah, ok, so I asked, but it was research. Being an author definitely makes for some odd questions (someone had better clear my browser history when I die, that's all I'm saying). It's not like I'm stalking my hot neighbor or anything—there's nothing wrong with watching him out my window. Although I might have my own stalker (and not the cute harmless kind), which is kind of terrifying.