Charlotte D’Amico never met a safe she couldn’t crack, a penthouse she couldn’t case, or a stuck-up rich guy she couldn’t deceive. So when the crime boss who runs her life orders her to spy on yet another reclusive billionaire, Charley’s not worried. Smile pretty, keep the boss happy, keep her sister safe. That’s how it works. But Dorian Redthorne is no ordinary mark. He’s charming, funny, and sinfully hot, with a whiskey-smooth British accent that leaves her aching for more.

I've made some pretty questionable choices in my life—dabbling in necromancy, double-crossing vampires—but summoning the dark goddess to save my sisters? That was just plain stupid. Now I’m in her debt, and goddesses don’t exactly do payment plans. She wants the blood of the dark fae warlord of Midnight, a realm of exiles where the sun never rises and torture is a competitive sport. It’s a death trap only three men have ever escaped—my newly appointed escorts.

A witch on the run from her cruel family. Four sinfully hot gargoyles offering her a shot at revenge... for a price. For a witch without magic, marrying into a prominent coven was supposed be my greatest honor—and the only way to clear my father’s massive debt. But when my groom turns out to be a demon in disguise, I stab him at the altar and flee…Straight into the arms of New York’s most notorious mobsters.

Julian Rousseaux has a problem. He's single, and for the world's wealthiest vampires, the social season is about to begin. But as the eldest, eligible Rousseaux he's expected to find a wife before the season ends. When cellist Thea literally stumbles into his life at a gala, he knows she's the last person he could ever fall in love with. She's too innocent, too kind, and way too human. But now that she knows about his world, she's also a walking target. He needs a fake girlfriend to discourage overzealous vampire matchmaking.. So, Julian makes Thea an irresistible offer.

Blackmoon Bay is a city of monsters. Surviving here means never leaving home without a sharp stake. It means keeping secrets, even from friends. And unless I want the Hunters finding me again, it means my witchcraft stays on permanent lockdown. Good policy - until the night I accidentally resurrect a dead girl, rekindling my magic and drawing the Bay's most dangerous men to my doorstep. I'm Gray Desario. Witch. Survivor. Occasional bringer of chaos. And tonight? The darkness is coming.

It was supposed to be easy: find the drug maker. Find her, and drag her back to the dragons to deal with. She deserves death for what she's done. For someone like Weston, the best alpha in the world, the one who shuts people up just by walking in the room, it would've been. Until he learns what she is. Finding a fated mate is nearly impossible. Very few are able to do it. But the call of their bond is unmistakable. Against all odds, and in the worst situation imaginable, he's found his true mate. Her.

So apparently my mom was a witch. And not just a witch, but a witch who turned bad. My poor, sweet, normal dad wanted me to have a good college experience. Instead I get a magical offer I literally can't refuse, from the world's most elite school for warlocks. Warlocks. As in guy witches. Even though I definitely have lady parts, somehow I ended up at a warlock school to learn the gentlemanly arts (which are a lot more badass than, ahem, lady magic).

Persephone is the Goddess of Spring by title only. The truth is, since she was a little girl, flowers have shriveled at her touch. After moving to New Athens, she hopes to lead an unassuming life disguised as a mortal journalist. Hades, God of the Dead, has built a gambling empire in the mortal world and his favorite bets are rumored to be impossible. After a chance encounter with Hades, Persephone finds herself in a contract with the God of the Dead and the terms are impossible: Persephone must create life in the Underworld or lose her freedom forever.

Family is everything; I always knew my father was a cold, heartless bastard. But the moment he took Elle Castlemaine and her pathetic daughter into our home, barely a month after our mom died, he unleashed something savage inside me. I didn't care they lost their home. Didn't care their father was behind bars. Didn't care he betrayed the notorious Stidda Mafia boss, Benjamin Rossi, and now their lives were in danger.

What’s a broke tea witch to do when she’s about to lose her beloved café? No idea, but chugging magic mojitos and drunk-summoning the Devil was definitely the wrong call. Now, I’m stuck with the house guest from Hell—literally—and we couldn’t be more opposite: a homebody who brews healing teas and reads romance novels to her cats versus a sexy-as-sin playboy with a pitchfork tattoo on his butt and a fondness for public day-drinking. In the nude. Ergo, the pitchfork discovery.