Being a hit man has its perks, but I never thought getting an accidental mooning by an attractive PI while he’s caught on a fence would be one of them. While it’s not exactly love at first sight, he’s captured my interest and won’t let go. Suddenly, I find myself caught in a game of cat and mouse, determined to attract the attention of Jackson, the PI who should be my enemy. He pretends like he’s not flattered by my flowers and the mentions of my totally-not-fictitious blow-up doll, Randy (or was it Dandy?), but I know better.

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.

I’m not anti-relationship, but my life is good right now, and love is not a priority. Too bad my grandmother disagrees. People say she’s scary, and sure, some of her enemies went missing under mysterious circumstances, but she loves me and wants the best for me…which right now, is marriage.

One mage: Bel Adams–part demon, gun shy about being rejected by one again, needs a familiar. One familiar: Nico di Rossi–Army Ranger, needs a change of pace and a new purpose in life, is a golden retriever in human form (though not literally). Plus one familiar: Garen Dallarosa–Secret Service, part gargoyle, needs his ex-lover Nico back.

This week hasn’t gone the best for me unless you count Casimir, the sexy ancient vampire, bringing me back from the brink of death (and tying my fate to his in the process). Not that it matters if the werewolves and vampires don’t stop their ridiculous feud, because someone is targeting them and widening the divide between our communities with each body they leave in their wake. But as the alpha’s son, I have a plan to fix everything. I’m going to convince Casimir to fake date me to show the others that we can work together. I mean… what could go wrong?

When Sorcerer Adrien Danvers takes on a job that leads him into the slums of England, he never imagined he'd end up with not one but two apprentices. Despite his doubts about himself, he's the only chance the two pre-teens have to escape their hellish life. When Sir Hugh Quartermain contracts him to deal with the mysterious circumstances surrounding his home on the Isle of Man, Adrien finds the more time they spend together, the more his walls come down around the beguiling engineer—an unusual occurrence and a terrifying prospect.

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.

I’m rather used to the crazy cases, because let’s face it, most cops can handle the run-of-the-mill with their eyes closed. I’m only called in when the situation is weird or they need to solve the case fast. This case is a little of both. Someone’s attacking women as they get off of work, hitting them in the back of the head. What started as a case of battery has steadily built up to homicide. With three murders, six victims, and no leads, the Clarksville PD are desperate to catch the assailant.

It’s really hard to pretend like life is normal when you’re staring a monster in the eyes, though he’s both tempting and irritating in his human form. I put my days as a hunter behind me, unable to cope with the death and pain anymore, to become an upstanding citizen and for what? To assist Lake, a man who claims he’s not a monster but keeps talking about me like I’m edible and–even worse–wants to woo me? 

Sometimes being a crown prince was incredible, and sometimes you were just royally screwed. The Fenrir shifters had ruled Cadmeera successfully for thousands of years and Crown Prince Raz'mar Kinsharae was determined his reign would be as successful as his father’s. Unfortunately, no king could be crowned without bonding with an omega consort, an ancient magical ritual that had to take place first, and so far none of the omegas put forward were his bond mate.

All Dag Gates wants is a place to call home. (And to practice magic freely.) All Stefan Bjorne wants is peace in his adoptive country. (And less paperwork.) All Mikkel Vinters wants is both of them. (No, really, he could do wedding bells.) So why, pray tell, is half the magical community set on denying them all their wishes?

What’s a white knight to do when his princess is causing utter havoc, leading in mass murder? Go to the famous Black Sorcerer of Grimslock for help, apparently. What’s a black sorcerer to do when the white knight comes to him for help? Keep him, naturally.

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.

When you can talk to ghosts, things are bound to get spirited. The ghosts have been there since before I can remember. When I was a kid, they doted on me, but as I got older, they got more demanding. I’ve spent my whole life seeing and talking to dead people and trying to pretend I’m not, because the living just don’t understand. Nobody wants to be around the freak who claims to see ghosts. Until I go to Mannix Estate.

Tristan Everett has always preferred the company of the dead because they usually don't talk back. Being a somewhat awkward introvert working as a pathologist at the Hackney Public Mortuary suits him just fine. That is, until a freak accident with a rogue ice cube and suddenly he can see ghosts. Just when he thought his life couldn't get any weirder, sassy drag queen, Dusty Le Frey, is wheeled in with a toe tag and she's not prepared to go quietly into the light.