Okay, I might be seriously under-qualified for the job of Enforcer, I'll admit. The Enforcer is supposed to be a human, for starters. It's usually an ex-special forces guy with big muscles and even bigger balls, and a knack for sorting out petty squabbles between the witches and vampires and shifters in the city. And I'm just a technically dead nail tech—an animated skeleton with a talent for illusion magic and gold gel manicures. But I've recently discovered that I can manifest some pretty big muscles of my own. I've already got the big balls, so I'm halfway there.

Immortality sucks. Just ask Imogen Gray—over two hundred thousand years old and teetering on the edge of total insanity. All throughout history, she's been hunted by an ancient creature who finds her and rips her to pieces every time she dares to access her deepest powers. But Imogen always regenerates. Slowly. Painfully.

The horror of waking up from the best dream ever and remembering you're a monster is indescribable. My soul is screaming for mercy, for forgiveness, for redemption…but I know I'll never get it.

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.

One moment, Susan Moore had a perfect life—a handsome husband, a fabulous career, wonderful friends, and a gorgeous home in Pacific Heights, San Francisco. The next minute, it was all gone. And Susan found herself in a straitjacket, locked in a padded room.

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.

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.

Aviva Fleischer hides a dangerous secret. She’s carefully concealing her infernal heritage, a.k.a. Cherry Bomb. Maybe it’s weird naming her demon side and referring to her in the third person, but guys do the same with their junk, and unlike most of them, Avi isn’t deluded about Cherry’s prowess.

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.

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.

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.

Fae trespassing in her woods is the least of Aileen's problems when her best friend comes under magical attack on the same night. Aileen soon finds herself neck deep in trouble as news reaches her that the local Fae burrow has fallen and the werewolf pack she counts as ally has been taken hostage. To save them, Aileen will be forced to travel across country to Las Vegas, the territory of a dangerous supernatural. And home to the secrets of one close to her. Soon, she'll find her enemies have joined hands. Their goal—the death of Aileen and the entire vampire line she belongs to.

Remember that old line about how the only way out of the organization is in a pine box? Well, Rue Hollis spent 10 years thinking she had escaped the Black Hat Bureau, no coffin required. Then her former partner had to go and shatter the illusion by showing up on her doorstep with grim tidings.

As soon as they found out I was different, I was thrown out of the human realm into a world filled with chaos. But I'm a warrior, and I'm not going to stand here and let them claim my life. When three men take me under their wing, I can feel that they're mine. But in this messed up world, that doesn't mean I get to be with them. As I fight to understand the world around me and the strange things happening to my magic, a threat is growing in the darkness. When the attacks begin, there's only one thought in my mind—to fight!

In the past two years, I leveled up as a kick-ass urban druid and became the leader of the Fianna Warriors my ancestor Fionn mac Cumhaill needed me to be. The thing is—four months ago everything changed. The veil between realms came down. With dormant genes waking, the dominant races jockeying for their place in the hierarchy, and the world around us pulsing out of control with power, my position as the Fae Liaison of Toronto has gotten off to a chaotic start.