As a witch, I have a healthy dislike for the undead. While they can turn a human, their venom kills those of us with power. At least that was true until I was attacked by a rogue and transitioned into a vampire. Now the entire supernatural community wants answers, including the vampire overseer who had a surprising reaction to my unnatural rebirth. In addition to my sexy undead leader, I am assigned a death dealer mentor to investigate the reason I was targeted and protect my family.

Someone paid the vampire king’s creepy son to turn me into one of the bitey undead. I’m not hanging about to find out who or why. The vampires want me to stay with them for one hundred years of indentured servitude but I have this thing about following orders so I ran from the streets of London to the wilds of Alaska. I have an eidetic memory and a can-do attitude. I can-do anything to get away from the vampire king. So when the Sheriff of Portlock, a hidden paranormal town, invites me to be his assistant, I say sure thing. It beats servitude hands down.

I fled Spirit Falls as soon as I was old enough, and the Darkwind council was happy to see me go. But it's been 20 years, and they are short on hunters in their supernatural war. So when they offer my son a place in their ranks, I portal myself to the council chambers in anger.

Being a private investigator wasn’t supposed to be complicated. I expected cheating spouses and missing pets like BonBon, a kidnapped ‘pure-bred Schnoodle’ with a ruby-studded collar. What I didn’t expect was a desperate elf on my doorstep, begging for help to find her missing parents. Nor did I think that my search would drag me back into the magical world I’d tried so hard to leave behind.

In 1876, we were called to Savannah, Georgia to help with an infestation of demons. If we'd known what we, my wife Evangeline, and I, were walking into, we'd have run the other way. As it was, we shared tea with a vampire and stepped into a battle we did not understand until it was too late.

Welcome to The Slaughtered Lamb Bookstore and Bar. I'm Sam Quinn, the werewolf book nerd in charge. I run my business by one simple rule: Everyone needs a good book and a stiff drink, be they vampire, wicche, demon, or fae. No wolves, though. Ever. I serve the supernatural community of San Francisco. We've been having some problems lately. Okay, I'm the one with the problems. The broken body of a female werewolf washed up on my doorstep. What makes sweat pool at the base of my spine, though, is realizing the scars she bears are identical to the ones I conceal.

Everyone’s welcome at the Stag—vampire, wolf or human. As long as they don’t make trouble. Or ask too many questions about what we’re selling out of the back room. I keep the beers coming, and in return the town keeps my secret. But when a gang of deadly vampires shows up at the bar, it’s clear they’re not looking for a drink. They want to take my business. Or my blood. But this is more than just a shake down. All over town, people are dropping like flies. Disappearing or attacking their neighbors. It’s like they’re possessed. And someone—or something—is pulling the strings.

Mary Frances Talbot—Frankie—is a necromancer, probably. Hard to say since she never met her parents. She can see the dead, talk to the dead, and a few other things that aren't strictly legal. It's fine. No worries. As long as she doesn't get caught. The whole not getting caught thing was going well until Samuel Harrow blew back into town wearing a Savannah Police Department uniform. He might be a witch, but he hates magic. He's not a fan of Frankie either. Which explains why he's her ex.

I can turn into a housecat. It’s a fun magic, except in a world filled with vampires and werewolves, it doesn’t exactly make me a powerhouse. Instead, the supernatural community has classified me as an outcast, which means one thing: picking on me is open season all day, every day. The local fae are the worst of all, and it’s during one of their regular “capture the cat-girl” sessions that I shift into my cat form and meet HIM for the first time.

Mackenzie works for Catch and Release, a bounty-hunting guild, and she loves her job. She goes after the usual suspects: Rogue vampires, feral shifters, and crazed mages. Nightmare stuff. The last thing she ever imagined was Lucan, an infuriating and high-ranking dragon shifter, hiring her to find a child kidnapped from his Tribe. Even though her magical talents lean more towards bodyguarding and hunting dangerous beings, condemning a kid to death isn't who she is. But as Mackenzie gets deeper into her hunt, she uncovers deadly secrets surrounding the child, the kidnapper, and Lucan himself...

It wasn’t until I lost everything—my home, my marriage, even my career—that I started to wonder if our “family curse” might be more than an unfortunate turn of phrase. Now turning forty-five, the age at which every woman in my family dies, I need answers not only for myself but for my two daughters. And I’ll see every specialist in the country if that’s what it takes. But when a lifelong friend discovers a link between my strange family history and an abandoned estate, I can't pass up the opportunity to learn what happened before the death certificates started piling up.

Lorelei Clay isn’t like other people. She isn’t even like other supernaturals. Her specialties are the nightmares of the living, communication with the dead, and cooking bacon until it’s golden brown and perfectly crispy—no magic required.

When my husband of 25 years leaves me to expedite his political agenda, and his new girlfriend ensures I have no place within the shadow council, I am starting over with a new business and no financial security.

After seeing her maybe-mobster boss murder a guy, Delaney James assumes a new identity and pretends to be a mail order bride. She finds her groom-to-be living in a town that celebrates Halloween every day. Weird. But not as weird as what she doesn't know. Her groom-to-be is a 400-year-old vampire.

Ellie Gleason has protected the town of Samford, Alabama, for decades. It's not as glamorous as her glory days as the WitchLight Hub, but it keeps her active during her golden years. Life is good. Well, it's okay. It could be bloodier with a smidge more gore, but retirement is meant to be low-key. It's not like her fragile bones could handle the strenuous hunt for monsters anymore, even if her current duties are dull as dishwater. But when her great-nephew shows up on her doorstep in tears, begging for help, Ellie straps on her beloved shotgun, Bam-Bam, and gets the coven back together.