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.

Cat shifter Simon refuses to jeopardize any of his nine lives, thank you very much. That saying "curiosity killed the cat" won't ever apply to him. No way, no how. Except . . . When he's out hunting for field mice one night, he finds the most wonderful whistle. It's magical and intriguing and so very, very pretty. He knows he should return it, but what's the worst that could happen if he blew on it first? Just once.

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?

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!

Max is living the screenwriter dream. He's not even thirty, he's just won an Oscar, and he's dating the gorgeous star of his movie. But after that one magical night, everything crumbles. The movie star dumps him, and his latest screenplay is a blank document that stubbornly refuses to write itself. So Max decides to disappear into the middle of nowhere and maybe obscurity. He's just getting settled into his new life when suddenly someone is trying to kill him.

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?

Cat shifter Simon refuses to jeopardize any of his nine lives, thank you very much. That saying "curiosity killed the cat" won't ever apply to him. No way, no how. Except . . . When he's out hunting for field mice one night, he finds the most wonderful whistle. It's magical and intriguing and so very, very pretty. He knows he should return it, but what's the worst that could happen if he blew on it first? Just once.

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.

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.

Having brothers is detrimental to my sanity. One is safely tucked away on the mantel behind my desk, his face not quite what it should be on the urn. My twin? Sad story that. Boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, and girl marries a Shifter. My twin ran away. That leaves me to run the show and hunt down the Witches who just can't stop killing us. We are also at war with the Shifters, who killed my oldest brother, and by order of the Gods Council, I'm not supposed to set one toe in Shifter territory.