Young Omen Daenoth cannot control his deadly supernatural powers. The only thing keeping him from inadvertently destroying everyone and everything around him is a dragon-forged artifact. But when the item is stolen, Omen can either give up his freedom and admit he's a monster, or find a way to rein in his chaotic psionics. Terrified his devastating power will kill an innocent, Omen enters into a shady deal with an undead alchemist and fights his way through the fabled, underground Night Games of the arcane city of Hex to retrieve what he has lost.

One moment, he was enjoying a breakfast of salmon trimmings in his home in South Wales. The next, he was teleported across time and space onto the cold stone floor of an evil warlock. Locked in the warlock's tower through day and night, Ben may have to serve him for a while. He'll hate this, especially having to hunt those infernal demon rats when the warlock doesn't feed him well at all.

Against all odds, Ben the Bengal cat defeated the demon dragon and sent it back to the Seventh Dimension. Consequently, Ben's nemesis, the evil warlock Astravar, is ever so slightly miffed. A demon dragon was meant to take over the realm for Astravar, while the warlock stayed in a tower with a nice cup of tea and watched the conquest from afar. But it didn't quite work that way . . . 

When Noah sees an advertisement offering him a chance to rent a starship, he’s convinced it has to be a trick. Already having the worst day of his life, he’s willing to do anything for a distraction, including following a random stranger’s directions to the middle of nowhere to see a ship he doubts exists. Except there is no trick. The starship is real. And Noah’s life will never be the same.

My name's Lyra Ridley, and I run headlong into supernatural danger for a living. I love my job protecting the streets of post-magic-revolution Las Vegas - where humans and supernaturals live side by side, or are at least having a stab at it. So when I get suspended and some jackass takes my city hostage? Yeah, there's going to be hell to pay.  

Jolene Hartgrave, here! I went from being a top dog lawyer to a hangdog pet psychic in the ruff part of town, all thanks to a pesky curse that gave me the gift of gabbing with animals. But my luck is finally looking up. I’ve teamed up with a hottie police officer and his snarky, lie-sniffing German shepherd to catch criminals. From a murdered fashion icon spinning a web of lies to the killed curator of an occult museum, I’m doggedly helping the police bring the bad guys to justice.

Arwen Forester may be a socially awkward introvert, but she’s an expert tracker, archer, and forager who has a pickling recipe for every vegetable in the garden. Unfortunately, none of these skills earn her a lot of money. And when the taxes go up on her father’s farm, she’s not sure how to help him keep the property. Then someone offers her a lucrative new gig: Hunt down a haughty half-dragon criminal with the power to incinerate those who irritate him.

My life was going just fine by most standards. I ran a successful business in a tight-knit magical community, and lived just blocks from a beautiful lake and series of hiking trails. Then Selene showed up. According to some magical code I inherit my aunt's ancient familiar; a grumpy ten-pound cat with a broken filter. She fancies herself something of a saber-toothed tiger, and claims to have wrestled the thread of her ninth life from the hands of the Fates themselves—although, I'm pretty sure that last part isn't true. Almost positive.

Nico, a young dragon of barely fifty, is rudely chased from his home by a group of murderous adventurers. Of his entire clutch, only he and one sister remained, but now he is alone. Isolated and hungry, Nico’s magic awakens, bonding him with Cami, a brave young woman. To hide from the adventurers’ pursuit, Nico takes on human form. However, once they discover that both he and Cami have magical abilities, they are required by law to attend the Imperial Academy.

My name is Gracie Springs, and I am not a witch… but I’m pretty sure my cat is. I first started to get suspicious when he jumped just a little too high while chasing after a robin in our front yard. I knew for sure when he opened up his mouth and addressed me by name! The first thing he told me? That he doesn’t like the name I gave him—even though “Fluffy” fits him like a warm sweater at Christmas. Now we’ve compromised on “Merlin the Magical Fluff,” which according to him references his long and proud lineage just fine.