Send cheesecake and a lot of coffee, because I swear I just heard a wolf’s howl in the middle of San Francisco. I was a skeptic about the supernatural…until my baby's birth sparked storybook murders around the city and each body led closer and closer to my grandma’s house. As an investigative journalist, I’ve solved a lot of mysteries, but now I’m a sleep-deprived mother. I have no clue how to balance my baby in one hand and my job in the other while I hunt a supernatural stalker.

Despite the rumors, I'm definitely not a witch, my VHS tapes are not cursed, and renting one absolutely will not hurt anyone. Unless they forget to return it on time—late fees are killer. Kidding! As a werewolf, I can smell everyone's emotions. Guilt stinks like rotten fish, happiness is citrusy, and buttery popcorn...well, that's just my snack. But it's all too overwhelming. To make matters worse, a visitor ends up dead in front of my video rental shop and rumors spread fast. Gossiping ghosts and busybody vampires claim my movies magically murdered him.

When Holly White's fiancé cancels their Christmas Eve wedding with less than two weeks to go, Holly heads home with a broken heart. Lucky for her, home in historic Mistletoe, Maine is magical during Christmastime - exactly what the doctor prescribed. Except her plan to drown her troubles in peppermints and snickerdoodles is upended when local grouch and president of the Mistletoe Historical Society, Margaret Fenwick, is bludgeoned and left in the sleigh display at Reindeer Games, Holly's family tree farm.

Josephine Ying longs to overthrow Big Uncle as the best host, and after his roast duck incident, she’s finally getting her chance this Chinese New Year. Even better, her son is bringing a surprise. Unfortunately, the surprise turns out to be a gold-digging fiancée—who dies at the dinner table. Her problems just got a lot bigger than hosting the perfect meal. Certain there’s a killer at the table, Josephine sharpens her questions to find them out.

My life was going just fine by most standards. I ran a successful business in a tight-knit magical community, and lived just blocks from a beautiful lake and series of hiking trails. Then Selene showed up. According to some magical code I inherit my aunt's ancient familiar; a grumpy ten-pound cat with a broken filter. She fancies herself something of a saber-toothed tiger, and claims to have wrestled the thread of her ninth life from the hands of the Fates themselves—although, I'm pretty sure that last part isn't true. Almost positive.