On New Year's Eve, in 1923, someone walked into Mickey McFadden's queer speakeasy hidden beneath the Big City Little Theater and shot her and her dog, EZ, dead. Or sort of, mostly, kind of dead. Because instead of crossing over, they become trapped within the bar's walls. And though EZ eventually manages to wriggle his way free, Mickey remains, her spirit frozen in time.

For Audrey Lind, working with clay still evokes memories of her favorite professor. The woman’s zeal for art history ignited Audrey’s own academic career—and her tweed blazers and British accent kindled her first female crush. After fate brings Audrey back to Northshire University to teach, she’s thrilled to be working alongside her former mentor, but the grumpy woman she encounters upon her return is nothing like the dynamo she remembers.

The only thing worse than Eve Morrison's parents' annual holiday gala is attending the event solo. When her plus-one for the event backs out at the last minute and offers up his cousin as a replacement, Eve doesn't say no. She has every confidence the long weekend will be a disaster, but at least this way, she'll have someone who might support her through it all.

There are only three things that get under Madeline Maddox's skin: defeat, disorder, and disruption, especially when it comes to her carefully curated life and her roller derby team. Because no one outskates Mad Maddox—that is, until a cocky little jammer blows back into her hometown wreaking havoc into all her plans. Vera Havik is mayhem; she's chaos, she's everything Madeline despises.

When a former classmate begs Pleiti for help on behalf of her cousin―who’s up for a prestigious academic position at a rival Jovian university but has been accused of plagiarism on the eve of her defense―Pleiti agrees to investigate the matter. Even if she has to do it without Mossa, her partner in more ways than one. Even if she’s still reeling from Mossa’s sudden isolation and bewildering rejection. Yet what appears to be a case of an attempted reputational smearing devolves into something decidedly more dangerous―and possibly deadly.