Simeon

The Unified Civilized Council has been assaulted by hundreds of Harvester Class Precursor Autonomous War Machines, each the size of Australia, and each bent on eliminating life in order to secure and harvest the resources of the galaxy for themselves. The only force able to stand up to the PAWM is the recently discovered Terran Confederacy of Aligned Systems. The Mad Lemurs of Terra and their allies are more than willing to stand against the PAWM forces, even as the Unified Council flees from every battle. This is presenting its own problem as the Confederacy holds fast to a belief that the...

Countdown: At long last, an extraterrestrial civilization reached out and made the First Contact. The end of their message showed humankind how to access a mysterious game. But as people figure out this mysterious game, the countdown timer ticks away. And no one can say exactly what will happen when Earth's safety is no longer guaranteed.

"No killing Goblins." So reads the sign outside of The Wandering Inn, a small building run by a young woman named Erin Solstice. She serves pasta with sausage, blue fruit juice, and dead acid flies on request. And she comes from another world. Ours. It's a bad day when Erin finds herself transported to a fantastical world and nearly gets eaten by a Dragon. She doesn't belong in a place where monster attacks are a fact of life, and where Humans are one species among many. But she must adapt to her new life. Or die.

Still reeling from the death of his parents, Jake finds a doorway to an abandoned space station in his grandfather's basement. But when he walks through, he discovers he's trapped there, and he’s got company. The station's AI enlists Jake to reclaim the systems needed to support life, but there’s a catch - he has only eight hours to complete the task or he’ll die alone in the cold vacuum of space. With only his trusty wrecking bar, work boots, and some basic survival equipment, he must defeat the horrific monsters that infest the station before his air runs out.

Prince Roger MacClintock, Tertiary Heir to the Throne of Man, was a spoiled rotten, arrogant, whiny, thoroughly useless young pain in the butt. But that was before an assassination attempt marooned the Royal Brat and his bodyguards on the planet Marduk, and before they had to march half way around the entire planet, through 120-degree heat and five-hour rainstorms in jungles full of damnbeasts, capetoads, killerpillars, and atul-grak, not to mention hostile peoples, to make their way back to port.