Willow Lake Supernaturals

Ash is technically a fire mage, but he can't do much. Turning his bedroom lights on and off without having to get out of bed isn't exactly awe inspiring, not when anyone with the right gadget could clap and do the same thing. Worse, sometimes he senses something bigger and brighter lurking under his skin, and it feels so familiar he knows it has to be his magic, but then he burps or sneezes, and the feeling passes. So it's probably just allergies . . . or gas. Yeah . . . Not exactly brimming with magical oomph. Not anymore. It sucks.

Jeremy has always wanted to befriend mythical creatures, play with forbidden magic, and meet his fated mate. Okay, okay. He knows the difference between fiction and real life; he is an author after all . . . Or he would be if he ever got to "The End" on one of his stories. So he realizes his desire to live inside a fantasy romance novel is a touch unrealistic, but where is the joy in living a life that is boring and predictable and overwhelmingly blah?

Jake is absolutely, completely ordinary, even if he has a weird painting affliction. Painting is relaxing, right? It helps. It's a form of art therapy. Even if his painting is the subconscious kind. The middle-of-the-night, paint-while-you-sleep kind. The kind that makes him puke every single time it happens. Okay. So, maybe that’s not exactly normal. But when a sexy but presumably imaginary guy with horns, who Jake's strange painterly alter-ego has been fixated on for the last year, suddenly shows up in town with horns and all, Jake doesn't know what to think.

Cat shifter Simon refuses to jeopardize any of his nine lives, thank you very much. That saying "curiosity killed the cat" won't ever apply to him. No way, no how. Except . . . When he's out hunting for field mice one night, he finds the most wonderful whistle. It's magical and intriguing and so very, very pretty. He knows he should return it, but what's the worst that could happen if he blew on it first? Just once.