Becca James

Dorian Gray’s painting was never in the vault of the library. We currently have no idea where it is and the only person who can track it is probably being held hostage in a storage yard with all kinds of cursed objects. Balthazar’s dick is still cursed and there’s no easy way to remove it. I already made it worse once. I hope it doesn’t fall off this time. I was totally against marrying Reyson when he woke up and announced I would be his new wife, but my resolve on that is starting to weaken. I’m starting to care for the damned god.

Need to summon a demon? Raise the dead? A clan of vampires bothering you? Do you like the really nasty werewolf erotica? The Library of the Profane has all of that, but not everyone can handle the contents (Some people can’t handle their werewolf erotica). I’ve been a librarian here for five years and when I say I killed to get this job, I’m not being facetious.

I’ve coveted a lot of valuables in my life. Magic was never one of them. My plan was to spend my days on a little team-building, a headquarters’ renovation, and an overdue date with a smoking-hot shifter. Instead, I’m stuck learning to wield a magic as unpredictable as my nature. As the first known shifter witch hybrid, my sexy alpha werewolf isn't the only one pressuring me to join ranks. The local coven is determined to get me under control. With their rules and rituals, they're worse than a supernatural H.O.A. Too bad, I'm allergic to being told what to do.

Turns out, the only difference between a felony and acquisitions is who’s bankrolling my heist. I’m about to go from scrounging up enough tip money to make rent to pulling six figures. I’ll finally put those years stealing for my old alpha to good use. Only this time, I’ll be the one calling the shots. My crew. My way. When a witch starts dabbling in forbidden magic, the Enclave sends me after the demon artifact fueling her power. The job should be simple, except they can’t point me to the culprit or tell me what I’m after.

Got a faerie problem? I’m your girl. Magic gone awry? Not a problem. But when kids go missing and the search comes up dry, my boss decides I need a partner. Now I have a problem. As a field agent in the FBI's ultra-elite Occult Crimes Division, a.k.a. the OCD, it’s my job to investigate cases of the magical variety. I’m the best at it, but it seems my employer doesn’t share my confidence when he pairs me up with the bureau's newest golden boy. Turns out he's the biggest tool I've ever met. Logan Hawthorne. Arrogant. Attractive as hell. Oh yeah—and human.

I'm a shifter with a checkered past and sticky fingers. I like my new life. I've got good friends, cheap booze, and weekly karaoke. Sure, I live in an apartment with more deadbolts than functioning windows. And yeah, I earn just enough tips as a mediocre bartender to buy name brand ramen noodles. But I can be as flamboyant and fun as I want—as long as I keep my hands clean. When a mysterious stranger strolls into my bar with tales of a magical dagger so rare it's guaranteed to start a bidding war, that old itch is back. One last heist—for old times sake. At least, that's what I tell myself.