Modern Fiction

A year into her dream job at a cutthroat Silicon Valley start-up, Cassie finds herself trapped in a corporate nightmare. Between the long hours, toxic bosses, and unethical projects, she also struggles to reconcile the glittering promise of a city where obscene wealth lives alongside abject poverty and suffering. Ivy League grads complain about the snack selection from a conference room with a view of unhoused people bathing in the bay. Start-up burnouts leap into the paths of commuter trains, and men literally set themselves on fire in the streets.

Anthony Powell's universally acclaimed epic encompasses a four-volume panorama of twentieth-century London. Hailed by Time as "brilliant literary comedy as well as a brilliant sketch of the times," A Dance to the Music of Time opens just after World War I. Amid the fever of the 1920s and the first chill of the 1930s, Nick Jenkins and his friends confront sex, society, business, and art.

This version of the Bennet family - and Mr. Darcy - is one that you have and haven't met before: Liz is a magazine writer in her late 30s who, like her yoga instructor older sister, Jane, lives in New York City. When their father has a health scare, they return to their childhood home in Cincinnati to help - and discover that the sprawling Tudor they grew up in is crumbling, and the family is in disarray.

When things go bump in the night, there's only one federal agency that stands between the supernatural and humankind...CERBERUS. C.E.R.B.E.R.U.S. stands for “Clandestine Enforcement and Reconnaissance Bureau, Extranormal Rampart Division of the United States”—the American law enforcement unit that was created to deal with all things magical and unexplained. Follow along as Deputy Marshal Tony Mendoza is inducted into the supernatural underworld by the shadowy agency and its enigmatic leader, Director Strickland.

Anthony Powell's universally acclaimed epic encompasses a four-volume panorama of twentieth century London. Hailed by Time as "brilliant literary comedy as well as a brilliant sketch of the times," A Dance to the Music of Time opens just after World War I. Amid the fever of the 1920s and the first chill of the 1930s, Nick Jenkins and his friends confront sex, society, business, and art.

The English philosopher and physician John Locke (1632 - 1704) is widely regarded as one of the most influential of Enlightenment thinkers. His work had a significant effect on the development of epistemology and political philosophy. The Second Treatise on Civil Government places sovereignty in the hands of the people, as Locke's fundamental argument is that people are equal and invested with natural rights in a state of nature in which they live free from outside rule.

When Colin returns to the Hellpocalypse to right wrongs and repair the timeline, he quickly discovers that he's bitten off more than he can chew. With his druid magic diminished and allies few and far between, can he defeat a master vampire to protect the survivors he returned to save?

So here’s the deal—I’m a magical disaster. A witch from a family of witches, and the only one whose magic blows up in her face. Which is why I came up with my rules....

Enter the Druidverse® and discover a world of magic, mythology, and urban fantasy! This set contains three short story collections and three novellas: Blood Scent (a prequel novella), Druid Blood (a prequel novella), Blood Circus (a short story collection), Blood Ties (a short story collection), Blood Bound (a short story collection), and Colin McCool Saves Christmas (a Christmas novella). The novellas primarily focus on everyone’s favorite down-on-his-luck druid, Colin McCool, while many of the short stories feature supporting characters.

A terrifying, thrilling collection of must-listen horror stories chock-full of nightmarish supernatural beings and the murderously disturbed that are sure to keep you up all night long.

It’s all very well deciding to build the means to save British magick. Top marks for ambitious goals! ...But there are one or two obstacles in the way. For one, said means does not yet exist, and it’ll take a genius to sort that one out. Luckily, we’ve got one of those. We call him Orlando. For another, nothing at all can be built without materials, and no common-or-garden commodities will do. It’s got to be silver. The impossibly rare, virtually extinct kind. This one’s on me, Val and Jay.

Fresh from an involuntary crash course in the Stranger Arts, I've a new mystery on my plate: the inexplicable reappearance of a particularly fantastic magickal species. Which is great, don't get me wrong. Rescuing magickal beasts is what we do around here. But the Dappledok Pup hasn't been seen since the seventeen hundreds; so how did we find one, alive and kicking, over two hundred years later? And this beast has a talent for sniffing out treasure, no less. Happenstance? Maybe not.

As an agent of the Society for Magickal Heritage, I, Cordelia Vesper, have an important job: rescue endangered creatures, artefacts, books and spells wherever they are to be found. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to keep British magick alive. So we rescued a valuable book from a long-lost library, only it proved to be unusually... chatty. And it's got a foul mouth, too. What manner of weird magick is this? Somebody else thinks it's pretty interesting, too. Ancestria Magicka, they call themselves. Brand new. Big trouble.

I haven't heard from my mother in six years—which is why I was surprised to receive a summons from her. The peremptory kind. With nothing but a set of map coordinates to guide me, what exactly was I to expect? The short answer? Trouble, for Mother Dearest is in rather a lot of it. And like daughter, like mother, for there’s a shiny artefact in the offing, and only a few gigantic lindworms in the way. Who isn’t up for a minor little challenge like that?

Stranded far from home, and unable to return, I am in bigger trouble than ever. I know I say that a lot, but this time it's really true. Not that there aren’t advantages to my particular predicament. If one must put up with a dangerous degree of magickal potency, one is duty-bound to… put it to use, no? Certainly nothing insane, irresponsible and potentially life-threatening. As if. But we'll need every possible advantage in the Hyndorin Mountains. For there, hidden behind layers of secrets, could be the answers we are looking for.

Rumour’s got a lot to say for itself, and the message is clear: the regulator’s ready. You know. The magickal regulator. The bright and shiny thing with which we, Team Improbable, propose to restore magick to a fading Britain. Somebody’s got to test it, and that somebody is us. Which means wading into the depths of a long-dead realm that nobody’s entered in centuries. And I may have had some practice at that, but this time it’s different. This time, somebody’s still home. And they really aren’t happy about trespassers. Looks like disaster’s on the agenda. Again.

Things have been quiet at the Society lately. Too quiet. It couldn’t possibly last. When a griffin appeared in the Yorkshire skies, it could only mean bad news. There’s only one place in Britain it could have come from and that’s the lost kingdom of Farringale. It’s a dire warning, and there’s worse to come. Turns out we aren’t the only people with an interest in the age-old city of the trolls. Farringale lies under attack—and these people will stop at nothing to take control of its treasures. It’s time for a showdown—the deathly serious kind.

Imagine modern Britain without magick. No fae enclaves. No flying chairs. No magick wands. Giddy gods, no unicorns. Who wants to live in that world? Me neither. But with magick on the decline, that's the world we're ending up with. Meet the Society for Magickal Heritage. Our boss is a disembodied voice. Our headquarters is a sentient house. You could say we've a vested interest in keeping magick alive. Can a ragtag bunch of magicians, necromancers and fae prevail against inevitable ruin and decline? Hell yes. Try and stop us.

At long last, a book of poetry for people who didn’t even know they liked poetry. And they’re in good company: author Lyndsay Rush didn’t know she liked it either. That is, until she embarked on an internet experiment under the Instagram username @MaryOliversDrunkCousin that turned into a body of work that struck a chord with women across the country; thanks to her signature wordplay, witticisms, and—against all odds—wisdom.

At a safe distance from the intrigues of courtly life at Louis XIV’s Versailles, an intellectual crowd of mostly women have been gathering in a Parisian home to share what hostess Marie D’Aulnoy herself has christened contes de fées: fairy tales. Recently ousted from court and still raw from the death of his beloved wife, Charles Perrault finds companionship and creative camaraderie at the salon, where he eagerly joins the storytellers. Their hostess is impressive, fiercely intelligent, but somehow unreadable. She is harboring secrets of her own.