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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

Shunned by most species and abandoned by their warlock fathers, necromancers are marginalized, feared, and reclusive. Erasmus Boone is different. His warlock father chose love instead of abandonment. Unusually powerful and talented, Boone embraced his necromantic abilities and managed to carve out an existence within a world that would rather he not exist at all.

Chase is crazy busy behind the scenes at the fraternity get-together, so when an alumnus comes in, he just notes a hot man in his vicinity and goes right back to work. When Ronan gets hurt and Chase feeds him, Chase's reaction opens up a whole new world of possibilities. Ones that Ronan wants to explore. Is Chase compatible with vampires? Or could he possibly be something more?

Trained to handle even the fiercest undead, Dallas Wilde took out a powerful necromancer without breaking a sweat. Okay, that's a lie—there was tons of sweat, but he was victorious all the same. Unfortunately, killing a necromancer comes with some repercussions. Broody, annoying, vampire repercussions and new abilities to resurrect the dead. Can Dallas navigate his blood-sucking bodyguard, new powers, feelings for his attractive client and still handle his contract in time to pay his very, very late rent—all while trying not to get super murdered in the process?

Angus grew up around the strange. With his mother able to see and speak to ghosts, he's grown up knowing there are things most people can't see or understand. When he accidentally catches Lance arguing with a ghost, he knows he has to step in before the man thinks he's going crazy. As Lance adjusts to his new ability, he also realizes seeing ghosts has its advantages. When several women are murdered in the area, it's up to Lance and Angus to work with the ghosts of the victims to catch the killer.

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.

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.

Rhett's inheritance of the gorgeous Victorian house was expected. What was not expected was: Two familiars; A house full of ghosts; Magic powers?!; A new boyfriend, maybe, possibly, please, and thank you. Now, if he could just figure out how to handle everything, life would be peachy.

Jake is absolutely, completely ordinary, even if he has a weird painting affliction. Painting is relaxing, right? It helps. It's a form of art therapy. Even if his painting is the subconscious kind. The middle-of-the-night, paint-while-you-sleep kind. The kind that makes him puke every single time it happens. Okay. So, maybe that’s not exactly normal. But when a sexy but presumably imaginary guy with horns, who Jake's strange painterly alter-ego has been fixated on for the last year, suddenly shows up in town with horns and all, Jake doesn't know what to think.

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.

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.

Seth Tanner and his brother Jesse's fun evening debunking local urban legends ends with Jesse's gruesome murder. Seth vows revenge on Jesse's killer - too bad the murderer has been dead for a hundred years. Seth uncovers a cycle of ritual killings that feed the power of a dark warlock's immortal witch-disciples, and he's hell bent on stopping Jackson Malone from becoming the next victim. He's used to risking his neck. He never intended to risk his heart.

George Hunt can think of nothing he’d like more than to skip the high-society fundraiser where he has to guard a precocious seventeen-year-old girl and her judgmental therapist, but there’s no way out of it. If anything bad were to happen and he wasn’t there to stop it, he’d never forgive himself. So even though she’s grilling him about his dating life and the good doctor is psychoanalyzing him, he’s going to soldier on, because protecting his charges is what a knight does.

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.

Zane's death lingers like a bad dream. I've been searching for months, but I can't find him in the void. The jerk vampire died on me just as things were getting nice and complicated between us. Meanwhile, true nightmares have been terrorizing the city. Death magic is ripping tears in reality, destroying my home, and threatening to swallow the world in darkness. If my necromancy powers hadn't been stolen by an overly ambitious vitamin villain, I'd be able to tackle the void tears with my classic Wilde flair. That is, if I could focus on saving the city from ruin.