Working with kids is totally my jam, and I'm damn good at what I do. Just call me Maxy Frickin' Poppins! When a new job prospect comes my way, I'm intrigued. A chance to move to Mystic Hollow (aka Monsters Hollow) to be a well-paid manny for two adorable orclings? Talk about a dream position. Sold! But when I lock eyes with the seriously sexy orc who's their guardian—and my new de facto boss—for the first time, I'm a goner. Big, muscular, and green all over–he's giving me full-on Hulk meets stern professor vibes—and I like it.

There’s no way in Helgar's Nebula I’m marrying the candidate my parents have chosen for me. I don’t want to be the house-husband of some stoic warrior who only cares about training all day. Boring! Thankfully, I’ve learned a thing or two from all those rom-com human movies I’ve illegally downloaded off the intergalactic web. No one will see it coming when I pull a runaway groom maneuver on them!

A thousand years ago, my great-something uncle founded the Collective, a secret organization dedicated to protecting humanity from demons. The hunter tradition has been passed down over the generations, from parent to child, secure in the knowledge that the Collective is a community of safety and knowledge. But betrayal sucks, and six years ago, it turned my world—and the Collective—upside down. After generations of deception, the hunters left behind are picking up the pieces and trying something we’ve never done before—working side by side with our enemy.

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.

Adam is not having a good day. First, he finds out his very long-time boyfriend has been having an affair. Then, his dramatic exit becomes a little too dramatic when he ends up dead. To top it off, he finds out that the afterlife isn't at all what he expected (he has no desire to learn to play the harp, thank you very much). Fortunately for him, some afterlife bureaucratic screw-up ends him up with the most smoking-hot demon he's ever seen, and he decides he's keeping him. Maybe the afterlife won't be so bad after all.

My standard issued lab badge reads "Simon", but it really should say "unexciting nerd with no social life". Don't get me wrong - I love what I do with a passion, but it doesn't leave a lot of time for much else. Especially romance. While chipping away at my work, I'm suddenly the person between hired cartel muscle and the fossil that will define my career. Which isn't the most insane part of the story. My savior is a chaotic, bat-wielding punk with a bubble-gum pink mohawk and a killer smile.

Some omegas go to clubs to pick up alphas. Isaac Evans cruises his poetry readings. It’s not the most professional choice, but what’s a horny omega to do? He doesn’t mean to have sex with Rhett Donovan of the Donovan Poetry Fellowship - the prestigious grant he dreamed of receiving before he slept with the alpha who awards it. And when Rhett gives him a unique career opportunity, Isaac doesn’t mean to fall in love. If anyone found out about his relationship with Rhett, it could mean a career-ending scandal for them both.

I don't ask for much from life; I get paid, and then I get laid. And piloting spaceships across the galaxy keeps my solo lifestyle well-funded. I don't need a relationship or any of the baggage that comes with it. I like my men like I like my coffee; to go. That is, until the most boring job in the universe goes horribly wrong and I'm snatched from my ship by a seven-foot alien. He's huge, he's purple, and he's ripped as hell. I'm sure I'm a dead man. Only it turns out he doesn't want to kill me. What he wants is far worse.

My love life is kind of a mess. Okay, fine, it’s nonexistent. Believe it or not, short, chubby, and furry aren’t characteristics that top most guys’ boyfriend checklists; no guys I’ve met, anyway. My dating history is a shit parade of one-night stands with men who promised to call the next day but never did. And so, I’ve put finding love on the back burner to focus on my business.

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.

What happens when you fall and hit the webtoons trope tree? You get killed by Truck-kun, get transported to a fantasy world by a sentient Fae coin, and become the first gay holy maiden. Jake Alexander is Not Happy to be sure. Fortunately in Jake's case, part of the trope tree includes the gorgeous Duke of the North, Theon. And starting a business from scratch, which he's always wanted to do. And revitalizing his new country which is on the verge of collapse.

Pixies are supposed to be petite, beautifully lithe creatures with gossamer wings. Sporting luscious, ombre pink hair and fluttering pink wings, Phil meets two out of three of those criteria. At over six feet tall, no one would dare call Phil petite. As a home-and-hearth pixie, Phil yearns to find a home and family he can bond to. When no one's willing to hire a pixie of his stature, Phil is forced to find work elsewhere. Turns out, pixies make terrible bouncers.

Bookish, snarky, and fiercely independent Nate Boudreaux leads a solitary life. Between teaching classes at the university and working toward his PhD, he doesn’t need a partner to occupy his time, and he certainly doesn’t need a man like Alistair Drake complicating his future. Alistair Drake, black sheep of the tremendously wealthy Drake family, is more interested in adding another notch to his bedpost than another zero to his bank account.

One mage: Bel Adams–part demon, gun shy about being rejected by one again, needs a familiar. One familiar: Nico di Rossi–Army Ranger, needs a change of pace and a new purpose in life, is a golden retriever in human form (though not literally). Plus one familiar: Garen Dallarosa–Secret Service, part gargoyle, needs his ex-lover Nico back.

In the archaeology community, Christopher “Kit” Sawyer’s family is a legacy. And while he may be a historian, not a treasure hunter, he thinks he does a pretty good job of living up to the Sawyer name. He's a book-smart research fanatic and does his best work at his tidy desk. No fedora and whip for him, if you please—a nice cup of coffee and a comfy chair will do. But decoding an ancient relic soon gives him more adventure than he bargained for.

It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and Charlotte and Seth are not looking for romance. Armed with emotional-support bear spray, Charlotte is in self-imposed isolation and on guard from men. Having a stalker can do that to a person’s nerves. Just across the hall and giving off woodsy vibes is Seth, a recently divorced arborist. As in today recently. Heights, he’s fine with. Trust? Not so much.

Lana Fleming’s sister has vanished from the set of TV’s hottest show, and no one seems to care. Desperate for answers, Lana sneaks in as an extra, only to get stranded with Griffin Hart, an A-list action star with a reputation for good abs and bad decisions. Though Griffin didn’t expect to be cast as a librarian’s sidekick in a real-life thriller, he’s weirdly into it—and into her. Even more unsettling—she sees right through his playboy persona. But their meet-cute soon turns deadly when they uncover a Hollywood scandal for the ages.

Lowen Ashleigh is a struggling writer on the brink of financial ruin when she accepts the job offer of a lifetime. Jeremy Crawford, husband of best-selling author Verity Crawford, has hired Lowen to complete the remaining books in a successful series his injured wife is unable to finish. Lowen arrives at the Crawford home, ready to sort through years of Verity's notes and outlines, hoping to find enough material to get her started. What Lowen doesn't expect to uncover in the chaotic office is an unfinished autobiography Verity never intended for anyone to read.

Meet Randi Burnett—she’s brilliant, she’s beautiful, and she works for the bride. Missing groom? Intoxicated in-laws? Crying ring-bearer? You name it, she wrangles it. Too bad her personal life isn’t thriving like her side gig as a bridesmaid for hire. Recently dumped, Randi throws herself into her biggest challenge yet when she’s hired as a maid of honor and pretend best friend for an ice queen bride. There’s just one problem—the best man is infuriating, overprotective, and anti-marriage.

Beckett: If you’re reading this, well, you know the last-letter drill. You made it. I didn’t. Get off the guilt train, because I know if there was any chance you could have saved me, you would have. I need one thing from you: get out of the army and get to Telluride. My little sister Ella’s raising the twins alone. She’s too independent and won’t accept help easily, but she has lost our grandmother, our parents, and now me. It’s too much for anyone to endure. And here’s the kicker: there’s something else you don’t know that’s tearing her family apart.