Whisper doesn’t remember his real name. All he knows is the elite assassin guild that raised him—and controls him with the threat of blood magic. Plagued by nightmares, he doesn’t get to refuse assignments, even when his new job doesn’t make sense: infiltrate Prince Julien’s court, protect him until the signal arrives, then kill him.

Sascha has always felt powerless, the weak baby of a cruel family. But that’s fine. He has his looks, his ample allowance, and a smattering of one-night stands to keep him busy. But when Sascha’s oldest brother offends the wrong people, Sascha finds himself in hiding with a target on his back. And when poking around in his temporary home leads to accidentally summoning the hottest demon Sascha could ever imagine, he has to ask himself: does he want to feel powerless anymore?

For nineteen years, I have carved myself into a dutiful son, a courtier of unimpeachable wit, and a genuine delight at a tea party. Now that my success in society has planted me in the path of Mikhail Vasiliev, it's clear I'd have been better off keeping my head down. Prince Mikhail is the second son of a traitor. Third in line to the throne, he has a reputation for violence, debauchery, and being a thorn in the side of his cousin, King Dmitri. That is until the king decides to get him out of the way—by marrying him off. To me.

What happens when you fall and hit the webtoons trope tree? You get killed by Truck-kun, get transported to a fantasy world by a sentient Fae coin, and become the first gay holy maiden. Jake Alexander is Not Happy to be sure. Fortunately in Jake's case, part of the trope tree includes the gorgeous Duke of the North, Theon. And starting a business from scratch, which he's always wanted to do. And revitalizing his new country which is on the verge of collapse.

If there’s one thing I don’t need upsetting my quiet and comfortable routine in the small town of Darling, Montana, it’s newcomer Ash Alcott crash landing on my family’s ranch like some sort of blonde angel. I don’t need his flirting. Or his smile. I don’t need the way he makes me question whether or not I’m truly happy being alone at forty. I certainly don’t need to be giving him riding lessons or appreciating the meals he cooks for the ranch.

Necromancer Shae loses more of himself every time he uses his magic. Always cold, always touch-starved, the only thing that helps is human contact. But Shae's dark powers scare everyone away. Even his new paladin bodyguard Arthur keeps his distance. Until Arthur finds Shae unconscious and shivering—and doesn't let go.

When the Rezwyn Empire mysteriously cuts diplomatic ties with the Kingdom of Usleth, merchant lord Oren Radek is sent to investigate. But when he discovers a coup brewing against the emperor, Radek's life and his country's safety is suddenly under threat. Izra Dziove, visionary advisor to the Rezwyn Emperor, is trying to hold the turbulent Rezwyn court together while being plagued by dreams of his fated man. But when Izra's adversaries launch an attack on the diplomatic party from Usleth, he is forced to take action to protect them and prevent a war.

Who are we? Nobody really knows. We’re seven powerful heirs to empires, ruling Manhattan from our thrones on Park Avenue. By day, we’re the elite, untouchable, and more connected than you could ever imagine. By night, we revel in the darkness of our secrets, pulling strings that make the city bow to our whims.

Pixies are supposed to be petite, beautifully lithe creatures with gossamer wings. Sporting luscious, ombre pink hair and fluttering pink wings, Phil meets two out of three of those criteria. At over six feet tall, no one would dare call Phil petite. As a home-and-hearth pixie, Phil yearns to find a home and family he can bond to. When no one's willing to hire a pixie of his stature, Phil is forced to find work elsewhere. Turns out, pixies make terrible bouncers.

The streets have been my home for as long as I can remember. To get by, I use my magic tricks, bringing smiles to the faces of adults and children alike. As a warlock, my powers are limited. Nothing like a witch's magical skills. Basically, I'm a glorified magician as well as a second-class citizen. Fine. It doesn't get me down. I have my cat Fizz and Kylie Minogue's music to keep me going as I dream big. I know there's a better life out there for me.

When our bonded dragons mate, I know it affects us. A dragon's passion is impossible to resist. But I'm shocked to discover which man is more dominant. And I'm awed by the awakening of my pleasure. Dragons aren't the only things that are new to me. Exploring this side of my nature is divine.

Big City is supposedly the place where dreams come true. As someone just trying to live my life, I can tell you it’s more like a recurring nightmare where dreams get c*ckblocked at every turn. Especially if you’re a supervillain like me. The irony is that I have zero powers, despite coming from purebred villain stock, but try telling that to Big City’s beloved hero, Captain Masculine.

Though I was born with the ability to see the dead, I struggled with it until my brother was killed and his ghost was left behind. Now, I’m determined to figure out who is responsible for his death…the problem is that Detective Maddox Booker, the one working the case, is a grumpy and stubborn man who wants nothing to do with me and definitely doesn’t believe in ghosts. It doesn’t help that I keep finding myself looking ridiculous in front of the detective, thanks to interfering ghosts who enjoy laughing at my expense.

On my first day in the town, I get caught up in a strange murder case, and Death saves my life. Yes, the Death. The delectable, mysterious Death. Goodness, he is hotness personified. But what happened to make him walk away from his responsibilities? And why is he so deliciously tempting, my desire a raging inferno every time he looks at me with those incredible eyes? I shouldn't be thinking of an immortal being like this, but with every passing hour I can't stop myself from falling deeper into infatuation.

Ferryman. The Grim Reaper. La Muerte. La Pelona. Shinigami. Charon. I've been called many names over the millennia, all thanks to my role in Hell—ferrying dead souls over the river Styx. Few know the demon behind the legend, how I came to be here, or the freedom I sacrificed to save the man I love.

Whisper doesn’t remember his real name. All he knows is the elite assassin guild that raised him—and controls him with the threat of blood magic. Plagued by nightmares, he doesn’t get to refuse assignments, even when his new job doesn’t make sense: infiltrate Prince Julien’s court, protect him until the signal arrives, then kill him.

What happens when you fall and hit the webtoons trope tree? You get killed by Truck-kun, get transported to a fantasy world by a sentient Fae coin, and become the first gay holy maiden. Jake Alexander is Not Happy to be sure. Fortunately in Jake's case, part of the trope tree includes the gorgeous Duke of the North, Theon. And starting a business from scratch, which he's always wanted to do. And revitalizing his new country which is on the verge of collapse.

Necromancer Shae loses more of himself every time he uses his magic. Always cold, always touch-starved, the only thing that helps is human contact. But Shae's dark powers scare everyone away. Even his new paladin bodyguard Arthur keeps his distance. Until Arthur finds Shae unconscious and shivering—and doesn't let go.

Of all the people who could have seen me when I was at my most vulnerable, it had to be him. Caleb. My stepbrother and the golden child of our messed up blended family. We barely know each other, but for some reason, he takes care of me when an incident at the club leaves me helpless and alone. He hates me as much as I hate him, but something about his bossy attitude and unflappable calm soothes me. I don't want to want him, but no one has ever made me feel the way he does.

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.