In the glitzy underground world of illegal auctions, fast cars, and stolen magical artifacts, John "Dom" Domenici knows he's out of his depth. But he needs the job at Kempthorne & Co. So when his boss, Alexander Kempthorne, wants him on a special case to track down an illegal artifact dealer, Dom can't say no. It shouldn't matter that the billionaire is sexy as sin, and it really shouldn't matter that there's an American agent stalking Dom, an agent who knows more than he should about Dom's case.

When the Rangers get the call about six bodies being pulled out of a mass grave in West Texas, the governor sends Dakota to run the investigation. Dakota heads back to his hometown and comes face-to-face with the last man he ever expected to see again, only now, he’s Deputy Shane Carson, Dakota's local partner assigned to the case. There's nothing Dakota wants more than a second chance with Shane, but so much is stacked against them: six corpses, a murderer on the loose, and history that refuses to stay buried.

When the Summer Queen summons Parker to her court, the private investigator knows there’s trouble brewing. Trapped into compliance by his past debt, he’s tasked with locating a missing girl in San Amaro. Now he has to find the girl or give up his life. Things only get more complicated when a very familiar cop asks Parker for his help on a case involving murdered magic users. With the victims completely drained of their magic, the San Amaro Police Department needs Parker’s special skill set to track down a killer.

Does a bear shift in the woods? Well, partially. That was what got grizzly-shifter Ted Farnsworth into trouble. He wasn’t trying to break the Secrecy Pact. He just wants people to see the real him. So he signs up with the mate-matching service Supernatural Selection - which guarantees marriage to a perfect partner. Not only will Ted never be lonely again, but once his new beaver-shifter husband arrives, they’ll build Ted’s dream wilderness retreat together. Win-win.

In my defense, I was left alone with a bottle of single-malt and a lifelong penchant for protecting my baby sister. Still, that's no excuse to send 10 drunk-texts on why her hasty marriage would be a mistake. If only I had just texted my sister. But nope. I accidentally sent the message to her, her groom, and his super hot wingman. I also used the phrase “super hot wingman”, so I’d like to die now.