When my grandmother, the leader of the Rathmore Coven, summons me, I have no choice but to answer her call. To reach her, I must cross the Wood, the realm of Wotan, lord of the hunt. Rumors of his cruelty and brutality precede him, but nothing prepares me to meet the monster face to face. Because Wotan is more than a monster. He's a predator, a bully, and now he's claimed me as his pawn in his war against my grandmother. A master of torture, he's determined to master me, stripping me bare of all my secrets.

When our bonded dragons mate, I know it affects us. A dragon's passion is impossible to resist. But I'm shocked to discover which man is more dominant. And I'm awed by the awakening of my pleasure. Dragons aren't the only things that are new to me. Exploring this side of my nature is divine.

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.

The streets have been my home for as long as I can remember. To get by, I use my magic tricks, bringing smiles to the faces of adults and children alike. As a warlock, my powers are limited. Nothing like a witch's magical skills. Basically, I'm a glorified magician as well as a second-class citizen. Fine. It doesn't get me down. I have my cat Fizz and Kylie Minogue's music to keep me going as I dream big. I know there's a better life out there for me.

Big City is supposedly the place where dreams come true. As someone just trying to live my life, I can tell you it’s more like a recurring nightmare where dreams get c*ckblocked at every turn. Especially if you’re a supervillain like me. The irony is that I have zero powers, despite coming from purebred villain stock, but try telling that to Big City’s beloved hero, Captain Masculine.

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?

I've spent most of my life knowing that supernatural creatures exist but never really interacting with any, so my knowledge of them is limited. Still, who would've thought a demisexual incubus was a thing? Well apparently, not only is it a thing, but I have one who claims to be my soulmate—or viramore, as he calls it. And now he has it in his head that he's going to save me from my past.

Detective Quinn Hughes doesn't have many regrets in life, but Sebastian Devlin is the biggest. As a cop and a defense lawyer, the deck was stacked against them to start with, but Quinn was the one who left a burning inferno behind him. Missing his chance with ex-Special Forces Commando Peyton Sinclair is a close second on his regrets list, but Quinn isn't going to ruin the happiness Peyton has found with fellow police officer Will McMahon for anything—not even a chance at his own happiness.

On my first day in the town, I get caught up in a strange murder case, and Death saves my life. Yes, the Death. The delectable, mysterious Death. Goodness, he is hotness personified. But what happened to make him walk away from his responsibilities? And why is he so deliciously tempting, my desire a raging inferno every time he looks at me with those incredible eyes? I shouldn't be thinking of an immortal being like this, but with every passing hour I can't stop myself from falling deeper into infatuation.

There's an honesty in the turning of the earth, in the turning of the seasons, and I've always preferred its quiet, steadfast company over that of other people. Left alone with an inherited cottage and my beloved pup Rotho to look after, my days are largely given to tending the garden, save for periodic errands in town.

When musclebound frat bro Brad gets run off the road by a reckless driver, he thinks it's game over. When he wakes up inside his twin brother's favorite corny shifter romance novel, he realizes the real game is just beginning. Desperate to get back to a world where he's top dog, Brad finds himself in the crosshairs of Raul, the menacingly hot hero of The Wolf's Mate, who's intent on teaching Brad a whole new meaning to the word alpha.

Being a hitman is the loneliest of jobs. We don't have many friends. Some don't even have family. Lovers? Try explaining to your boyfriend why there's blood on your shirt. Christmas is the worst time to be alone. This year, love is in the cards for me, all thanks to a letter I found in the street. It reads, "Dear Santa, all I want for Christmas is revenge…"

For nineteen years, I have carved myself into a dutiful son, a courtier of unimpeachable wit, and a genuine delight at a tea party. Now that my success in society has planted me in the path of Mikhail Vasiliev, it's clear I'd have been better off keeping my head down. Prince Mikhail is the second son of a traitor. Third in line to the throne, he has a reputation for violence, debauchery, and being a thorn in the side of his cousin, King Dmitri. That is until the king decides to get him out of the way—by marrying him off. To me.

Witch Briar Wyngrave's time is limited. The wasting curse that killed his mother is coming for him too, consuming his magic bit by bit. At least he'll have the chance to make his name as a magical fashion designer with an elite placement in Pentawynn, the country's glittering capital, after graduation. Until, that is, a prophecy sends him to the remote island of Coill Darragh instead, in search of a predestined lover with a mysterious mask.

Well, he loves the idea of his job. It’s just that the reality of marketing isn’t a creative joy, it’s a soul-crushing corporate rat race. His boss keeps taking credit for his work, and his coworkers couldn’t be less sympathetic if they tried.