L.A. McBride

Stealing magical artifacts was supposed to be my golden ticket, not a death sentence. Securing a dangerous book of spells should’ve earned me some time off and a fat bonus. I’d hoped to spend my days breaking in the new climbing wall at G.O.A. T.

I’m a shifter with a checkered past and sticky fingers. I like my new life. I’ve got good friends, cheap barbecue, and weekly karaoke. Sure, I live in an apartment with more deadbolts than functioning windows.

I’m a costume shop owner, not a demon hunter. My life was supposed to be filled with tequila shots and vintage clothing. But when I accidentally unleash a demon on Kansas City, the Tribunal labels me a walking menace....

Moving across the country and opening a costume shop was supposed to be my chance for a normal life. What I wanted was a fresh start, one where the biggest danger would be a carelessly wielded sewing needle....

Turns out, the only difference between a felony and acquisitions is who’s bankrolling my heist. I’m about to go from scrounging up enough tip money to make rent to pulling six figures. I’ll finally put those years stealing for my old alpha to good use.

I’ve coveted a lot of valuables in my life. Magic was never one of them. My plan was to spend my days on a little team-building, a headquarters’ renovation, and an overdue date with a smoking-hot shifter. Instead, I’m stuck learning to wield a magic as unpredictable as my nature.

When witches start turning up dead, the Tribunal calls in a favor that lands me in the middle of a supernatural murder investigation. Again. When that search intertwines with a decade-old trail into my sister's death, there is nothing I won’t do to get answers....

I'm a shifter with a checkered past and sticky fingers. I like my new life. I've got good friends, cheap booze, and weekly karaoke. Sure, I live in an apartment with more deadbolts than functioning windows.

As a scrawny goat shifter in a pack of werewolves, my role is to get into places they can't go. The alpha who took me in after my parents died molded me into a master thief. For four long years, he's lined his pockets, while I've taken all the risks.

Two things are impossible to walk away from: death and vintage clothing. Trust me. I've tried.

Coexisting with a demon is going to take more than a meditation playlist and good intentions. These days, I’m training hard core. My only accessories are bladed weapons and bruised ribs. It’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means staying in control....