Kay Powell wants to find that break-out client who will become a star. And she thinks she's found him: His name is Bruno, and he has to be walked three times a day. Kay is the Agent to the Paws, representing showbiz clients who aren't exactly people. In fact: they're dogs. Bruno's humans, Trent and Louise, are pains in the you-know-what, and Les McMaster, the famous director mounting a revival of Annie, might not hire Bruno just because he can't stand them.

After losing their parents when they were just babies, private investigators Fran and Ken Stein now specialize in helping adoptees find their birth parents. So when a client asks them for help finding her father, with her only clue a rare ukulele, the case is a little weird, sure, but it's nothing they can't handle. But soon Fran and her brother are plunged into a world where nothing makes sense—and not just the fact that a very short (but very cute) NYPD detective keeps trying to take eternal singleton Fran out on dates.

New Jersey prosecutor Sandy Moss is tired of petty criminals, and a new job at a glitzy Los Angeles law firm seems the perfect career move. Putting 3,000 miles between her and her ex-boyfriend is just an added bonus. But on Sandy's first morning as a family attorney, she inadvertently kills her new career stone dead when she offends her boss during a meeting with the firm's top celebrity client, charismatic TV star Patrick McNabb. But that's not as dead as Patrick's soon-to-be ex-wife is that evening when she's discovered shot by an arrow, her husband standing over her.

Newly divorced Alison Kerby wants a second chance for herself and her nine-year-old daughter. She's returned to her hometown on the Jersey Shore to transform a Victorian fixer-upper into a charming-and profitable guest house. One small problem: the house is haunted, and the two ghosts insist Alison must find out who killed them.

Samuel Hoenig answers questions for a living. And as a man with Asperger's syndrome, his unique personality helps him ferret out almost any answer there is. But his latest question is a rather odd one: who stole a preserved head from the Garden State Cryonics Institute?