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.

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.

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.

Two astronomers have detected a strange, pulsing signal from deep space. Within hours, the US government goes into lockdown, restricting airspace and scrubbing scientific data. Was the signal an intercepted communication revealing alarming plans for an enemy’s military strike? Or has humanity at long last found proof of extraterrestrial life?

The tavern was about half full and there was no reason for this one table to have ten chairs and only one occupant. Except that she was sitting there. At her table. I say her table because she seemed to be the captain of her own little island nation, exiled and alone in an otherwise busy tavern. She didn’t look up until she heard my chair scrape the floor when I moved it so that I could sit down. I think it startled her. I know it did. It wasn’t that she wasn’t observant and didn’t see me coming, it was that I was unusually hard to see. And so was she. She wasn’t waiting for a ...

Last thing I remembered, I was in my backyard, thoughtfully pruning a bonsai tree. The next thing I remembered was alarms and bells and flashing lights and a voice yelling that death was imminent. And now, I was staring down at a beautiful female clone, gray and featureless, about to wake her up from transport hibernation. On a space ship. In space. Thank goodness I still had my bonsai scissors. Otherwise I’d never have been able to cut open her containment bag and that imminent death thing would have killed her. The voice said that there was more of them and that I’d better hurry if I ...

I was kneeling on one knee, Terminator-style, like in that scene where he first arrives in 1984. Very much like that, actually. There were no flashes of lightning or anything like that. But there had been a lot of wind the moment before. Unlike a moment before, I wasn’t alone, and I wasn’t in my hotel room overlooking the ocean. Scattered around me were the bodies of twenty men. At the front of the large stone room were four more men, very much alive, and a woman screaming. Rushing at them, I reached them just as one of the men was about to strike the woman in the face. In that instant,...

My name is Ronin. This is the second book of my life as an Adventurer Monk. I left my clan’s village a few weeks ago. I took nothing but the clothes that I wore, the wooden sword that I had carved myself, and a sharpened piece of flint. I didn’t have a cloak to sleep in until later, when I had worked enough to have a few coins buy one. In fact, I didn’t even have a name. I was an Adventurer Monk, a novice, trained by my father and grandfather, but now on my own. Now I have a village, a place that I call home, and two women. And the girl called Harmony. I also have a war to start. ...

My name is Ronin. This is the third book of my life as an Adventurer Monk. So far, I’ve made a name for myself locally and established a house with wonderful mates. Today, the 311-year-old Elf-Woman, The White Falcon, appeared and says that she will join us. She was a surprise. 311 looks good on a strong-blooded Elf. This should be an adventure in itself. The Kobold Cave is empty…of Kobolds. I expect even more dangerous creatures are waiting for us deeper in. I intend to take my beautiful, highly sexual spouses, and explore it. At least four of us, and possibly five now, are Adventurers...