She began as my obsession. I made her my possession. As the oldest brother of the most brutal crime family in Chicago, whatever I want is mine to take. Including her. The first time I heard Emily Martin play, the strains of her cello soothed the beast inside in a way nothing ever has before. With a single look at her angelic face, she became my obsession, and from that moment on, I knew nothing would keep me from making her mine and mine alone. But taking her captive wasn't enough. I needed her complete submission.

A marriage of convenience proves to be magically inconvenient, and no spell will get them out of it or calm their burning desires. Being a legacy witch comes with expectations, and, unfortunately, when Gammy shares that she’s sick, Petra becomes the front-runner for the role of Premier Witch, a part she’s never really wanted. The inconvenient catch? Traditionally, the Premier Witch must be married, and a combative supernatural council member is only too happy to point out.

I can spin gold, I lie. With my life at stake, I have no other choice. I get one chance to turn my lie into truth, and I'm shocked when I succeed. But now the cruel human king demands I become his wifepassing between his bed and being locked away in a tower, spinning gold until my last breath. My only way out is to summon him. A brutal Fae prince. The deal we strike is sickening, but it's the only way I'll live after I'm caught escaping. My new captor drags me back to his realm.

A man, who believes he is a government operative for a covert black-ops division of the CIA, awakens in the aftermath of the bombing of a federal building in Chicago. Disoriented and struggling to reconcile his last memory—an operation in Croatia pursuing a target wanted for espionage—he soon finds himself accused of domestic terrorism and mass murder. Either his mind is unraveling, or he's been expertly framed.

Escaped from becoming the breeder of my pack, however, I got caught by FOUR Single Werewolves... The destiny of a heated Omega was becoming a breeder. So I ran away, without any preparation or destination. Except for my female companion’s last screaming: Run, Run east. So I dared not to stop, even the heavy snow numbed my legs and froze my veins. Exhausted and overwhelmed, I fainted. Not aware of how fatally attractive a heated Omega would be for males...

Sam Flint lives in a world of monsters and magic, and as a quasi-immortal, he is King. Well, King of a hole in the wall apartment infested with more rats than the politicians shiny offices up in Standard Heights. The life of a private eye in Necrotown isn't glamorous, but Sam has all he as ever wanted wrapped up in the sexy embrace of his kitsune wife, Fox. Unfortunately, landlords and rent wait for no man and Sam needs to get paid fast. When big bellied and bigger pocketed Lloyd Burgess hires Sam for a quick snatch and grab of his wayward daughter, Sam is all in.

Most people living in Elderwood City didn’t believe in vampires. Most vampires living in Elderwood City didn’t care. Josef Freeth, neither man nor vampire, knew better than both. He also knew that the fresh scent of blood wafting through the park meant it was time to do what he did best: slaying vampires. Supernatural creatures, secret organizations, magic and missions, the MoonWatch Universe’s web of stories and novels has it all.

There she lay in all her glory...it was her: Dalia from the Wild. As she lay upon the manicured turf eating a fresh peach under a heavy tree, my mouth salivated as she sexily consumed her delicacy.

Following seventy thousand years of undisturbed slumber, the vessel of a planetary empire that had followed its own predetermined path to destruction eons earlier had finally reawakened, bringing with her the potential to change everything. Embodying all that was benevolent and beautiful from innumerable long-forgotten cultures, this lifeform in suspended animation also possessed the power necessary to prevent her gifts from being corrupted by those who will eternally thirst for dominion over others.

Matt Stone rode into Markleeville one hot dusk, with a wind at his back that promised summer thunder. He was tall and lean, with a narrow, clean-shaven face above the collar of his oilskin duster. His eyes were a hard pale blue, like chips of ice, and his black hair was long like an Apache's and held back with a strip of leather. The coat was open, revealing a buckskin vest and the pair of silver Colts at his hips. He rode a huge, sleek black horse with a bullet scar showing in white hairs across one flank. Its name was Lucky.