J. T.

Concerned that technology is about to chase mythological creatures out into the open (how long can Sasquatch stay hidden from Google maps?), the League for Interspecies Cooperation is sending Jillian to Louisiana on a fact-finding mission. While the League hopes to hold on to secrecy for a little bit longer, they're preparing for the worst in terms of human reactions. They need a plan, so they look to Mystic Bayou, a tiny town hidden in the swamp where humans and supernatural residents have been living in harmony for generations.

At least that's what the men in my life have taught me. My dad ran off when I was young, and just when I thought I was getting my own happily ever after, my ex left me on my own with two kids. Trying to pick up the pieces, I move to a small town where I can have help from my children's grandparents. I think I know what to expect from small-town life. Until I meet my new neighbor. Knox Madigan. Local hero. Great smile. So hot I'm sure I'd be burned if I got too close.

An opportunity to tell off the billionaire whose bank took my childhood home? Yes, please! The greedy, arrogant jerk thinks I’m here to interview for the job of his dog trainer (a.k.a. nanny), but he’s got a big storm coming.

Zoe and Luke are trying to play newlywed happy, but they already look ready for a divorce. It’s hate at first sight, but as the night progresses through wild first dances, awkward kisses on full display, and a humiliating experience with the president, the pretend feelings start to get dangerously close to real.

I’ve sworn off men to focus on my dream job that starts on Monday. But my best friend talks me into a final night of fun—a blind date. I only agree because the guy is going to work as a doctor in Africa. It’s the best date of my life. Dr. Africa makes me laugh and swoon, and I want to give him a thorough physical examination. He turns into Dr. One Night Stand, and I’m not sad about it. Monday morning, I’m enthusiastic and excited, until I bump into...you guessed it.

FBI Agent Dillon Savich is on a challenging case involving the kidnapping of two teenage boys when trouble boils up in his personal life. His younger sister Lily has crashed her Explorer into a redwood in California's Hemlock Bay. Is it another suicide attempt, the second since the loss of her young daughter some seven months before? Savich and Sherlock discover that four of Lily's paintings, left to her by their very famous grandmother, artist Sarah Elliot, now worth millions, are at the heart of an intricate conspiracy.

A serial killer is on the loose, and it’s up to FBI agents Dillon Savich and Lacey Sherlock to bring him down. They soon discover the killer has blood ties to an infamous and now long-dead monster. Savich and Sherlock are joined by agents Lucy Carlyle and Cooper McKnight, and the chase is on. At the same time, Agent Lucy Carlyle learns from her dying father that her grandfather didn’t simply walk away from his family twenty-two years ago: he was, in fact, murdered by his wife, Lucy’s grandmother.

One minute, down-and-out actor Lorenzo Smythe is, as usual, in a bar, drinking away his troubles while watching his career circle the drain. Then a space pilot buys him a drink, and the next thing Smythe knows, he’s shanghaied to Mars. Smythe suddenly finds himself agreeing to the most difficult role of his career: impersonating an important politician who has been kidnapped. Peace with the Martians is at stake, and failure to pull off the act could result in interplanetary war.

My new assignment at work: test out toys. Yup, that kind. But when the testing goes south, and I mean that literally, I’m forced to recruit the help of my new boss, the infamously reclusive and devastatingly sexy Vlad Chortsky, a.k.a. the Impaler. Testing toys with your scorching hot boss is still professional...right?

He's a billionaire heir. A grump supreme. Hater of people. Bigger hater of peopling with people. And my new fake boyfriend. "Emotionally unavailable" doesn’t even begin to describe Hayes Rutherford. He has more defenses than a nuclear missile silo. And he’s the ultimate catch of the century. At least, according to his bank statement. My job’s simple: Keep all interested ladies away from the walled-off heir, by pretending to be his one true love. But you know what they say about fake-dating a billionaire: It’s all fun and games, until the scandals start.