Xander Corey lives simply, sustainably, on the outskirts of Osprey, a small, quaint town in Upstate New York. He’s a librarian when the town’s budget can afford him, a good friend, kind neighbor, and also, a witch. And while that’s of no concern to anyone around him, there are others, non-humans, who have a vested interest in Xander’s family land. Xander knows something dark and dangerous is brewing. He’s just not quite sure what.

When ghostwriter Maz Amani inherits a house from an uncle he’s never heard of, he offers heartfelt thanks to the universe, packs up his car, his cat, and his skepticism about mysterious uncles leaving all their worldly goods to unknown nephews, and high-tails it to a small town halfway to the Oregon coast. Anything would be better than week after week of couch surfing his way around Portland. Even if the alleged house is a rundown shack ridden with termites, spiders, and—shudder—rats, he’ll deal. Because hey, he owns a house!

Weirdly, people don’t react overly well when you’re caught standing over the dead body of a murderer who’d walked free. It’s not that I thought my fellow homicide detective would rejoice when he saw what I’d done, but is a pat on the back too much to ask for? Maybe a gold star at the very least? The problem is that the person who caught me is Gabriel, the only person I care for and adore… and he’s prepared to look the other way if I leave homicide and promise to never kill again.

Boraleashe Cavalerie was the opposite of his titan brothers. He was stoic, disagreeable, and his attitude towards others was just as biting as his frost. All titans were required to gift their pure hearts to another—to fall in love—as praise to the divinities for their dominion over an element. Refusal to pledge their heart was considered an act of defiance to the gods. There would be judgment . . . and atonement.

George Hunt can think of nothing he’d like more than to skip the high-society fundraiser where he has to guard a precocious seventeen-year-old girl and her judgmental therapist, but there’s no way out of it. If anything bad were to happen and he wasn’t there to stop it, he’d never forgive himself. So even though she’s grilling him about his dating life and the good doctor is psychoanalyzing him, he’s going to soldier on, because protecting his charges is what a knight does.

Stefan de Marco was looking for a position...again. Being a high scoring magical anchor was only useful in his world when he had someone to partner with. His slender body and elfin looks meant he was usually only chosen to anchor people who believed his duties should extend well past working hours, and that wasn't something Stefan was interested in.

Master Ambrosius was created over a millennium ago and had come to terms with spending his life alone. He has his coven, his second, and a few close friends, but he continues to be haunted by the memory of his fated mate running from him in terror. That is, until the goddess sends him to Montana, and he discovers his body reacting to a sexy alpha with wide shoulders and dark eyes. Surely there’s some mistake though, right?

Caspian, fourth son and yet still a Crown Prince of Gunkermal, knew he was a party to a marriage contract. Arranged marriages were common in his family, and he expected the contract would cement various trade or security agreements with another country. He just didn't realize the other party to his contract was a full-grown man, who stepped off his ship--and into Caspian's life--as if he owned it.

After two thousand years of providing peace for his people, Notalus was ready to pass on his kingdom to his heir and live out the rest of his days gardening in his fields in the land of Autumn . . . alone. But the Gods had other plans for him. Notalus knew he should've stayed away from the Earth realm after Dustin Constus Hill—the handsome wolf and harvester for the Volkov pack-lands—had imprinted on his soul. Falling for such a divine mortal could not have come at a worse time.

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.

Rhett's inheritance of the gorgeous Victorian house was expected. What was not expected was: Two familiars; A house full of ghosts; Magic powers?!; A new boyfriend, maybe, possibly, please, and thank you. Now, if he could just figure out how to handle everything, life would be peachy.

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.

Chris Gardner has a good life in New Orleans. He owns a club in the French Quarter, has a wonderful crew of people who call it home, loyal, caring friends, and even gets his kid fix by helping to take care of his chef’s daughter. What he doesn’t have is that special someone to share his days and nights with. He thought he did, once upon a time, but that man left to find fame and fortune, became a rockstar, and never returned. And that’s fine. Life isn’t a fairy tale. Now if only he could find a band to play music in his club at night, that would be a Christmas miracle.

Maybe I have an overactive imagination, but the hot guy next door totally gives off serial killer vibes. Why else would he know how long it takes to bleed out from a wound? Yeah, ok, so I asked, but it was research. Being an author definitely makes for some odd questions (someone had better clear my browser history when I die, that's all I'm saying). It's not like I'm stalking my hot neighbor or anything—there's nothing wrong with watching him out my window. Although I might have my own stalker (and not the cute harmless kind), which is kind of terrifying.

Shunned by most species and abandoned by their warlock fathers, necromancers are marginalized, feared, and reclusive. Erasmus Boone is different. His warlock father chose love instead of abandonment. Unusually powerful and talented, Boone embraced his necromantic abilities and managed to carve out an existence within a world that would rather he not exist at all.