She’s running from the spotlight. He’s addicted to it. Disgraced photographer June Miller just wants to disappear. After a scandal destroys her career in New York, she flees to a remote cabin in the West Virginia mountains, seeking silence, darkness, and isolation. She thinks she’s alone. She’s wrong. Arthur is a creature of shadow and static, a legend whispered about in campfire stories. But he isn't a myth—he's a biological weapon who escaped the lab that made him. He is drawn to June’s cabin not by malice, but by a biological compulsion he cannot The Light. To him, her porch light is a song, a drug, a siren call that burns but feels like home. When a blizzard traps them together, the line between predator and protector blurs. June needs Arthur’s strength to keep the world at bay. Arthur needs June’s heat to survive the freezing cold. But June isn’t the only one watching the woods. Someone else is out there in the snow—a man with a camera, a gun, and a desire to expose them both.

A previous cover edition for this ASIN can be found [here](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/256128711) The bride is a bridezilla. The venue is a swamp. And her carpenter has wings. Chloe St. James is New York City’s most sought-after wedding planner. She does not do "rustic." She does not do "outdoors." And she certainly does not do "The Pine Barrens." But when her career implodes, she’s stuck renovating a dilapidated barn in the middle of nowhere for an Influencer wedding that could save her reputation. Enter JD. He’s the only local contractor willing to work for her. He’s six-foot-five, covered in fur, and has a tail he thinks she doesn't notice. He’s the Jersey Devil. And he’s... surprisingly good at carpentry. He fixes the roof. He carries the heavy boxes. He listens to her vent about fondant while eating raw venison. And when the wedding threatens to fall apart, he shows her that sometimes, the perfect day isn't about control. It's about finding someone who will catch you when the chandelier falls.

One Grumpy Captain. One Happy Kraken. One Tiny Bathtub. Ferry Captain Sam Hart has three Keep the schedule, drink the coffee, and ignore the tourists. She lives a quiet, solitary life on Lake Champlain, patrolling the foggy waters and avoiding anything that looks like "fun." Then she hits something. Or rather, he hits her using his suckers. Squishy is a Kraken with a heart of gold and a brain full of wonder. He’s spent centuries watching the "Land Striders" from below, dreaming of their world. When an encounter with a high-tech drone leaves him beached and injured, Sam does the only logical She smuggles the massive, sticky, affectionate monster into her bathroom. Now, Sam is juggling a 6'8" deity who thinks the toaster is a pet, a nosy Reality TV host who wants to skin him for ratings, and a growing realization that her bathtub isn't the only thing overflowing. Squishy doesn't just want to survive the surface; he wants to belong to the Captain. But with cameras circling and his water-magic fading, they’ll have to pull off the biggest hoax in history to save the magic... and each other.

She's a broke goat farmer with thirty days to save her land. He's a seven-foot Chupacabra who answered her online ad for a "predator consultant." He does yoga at 4 AM. He knits sweaters for her goats. He hasn't been touched in fifteen years, and her stress sweat smells like the only mineral spring in the world. She gave him a flannel shirt and a walkie-talkie. He built a nest around both and started purring through the floorboards. But someone is sabotaging her farm, the tax bill is ticking, and the most dangerous thing in Greenbrier County isn't the monster in the barn—it's the man in the Stetson who wants her land. She gave him a walkie-talkie and a flannel shirt. He gave her a dead coyote and a creek stone.

She inherited a failing farm and a stubborn refusal to ask for help. He escaped a labyrinth built to contain him and found the first person who ever asked what he wanted instead of telling him where to go. Grace doesn't need a seven-foot Minotaur critiquing her corn maze. She needs the bank off her back, the sabotage to stop, and one single thing to go right this season. Asterion doesn't need a home. He's never had one. Homes are for people who get chosen, and he's always been the thing that gets contained. But the maze needs fixing. The farm needs saving. And somewhere between arguing about sight lines and sharing cold coffee at dawn, they build something neither of them planned for - a foundation strong enough to hold.

Kit inherits a crumbling stone courthouse from a great-aunt she barely knew. The plan: sell it, save the lavender farm, move on. The plan does not account for the gargoyle. Aldric has been guarding this building for three hundred and twenty-three years. He's carved from limestone. He doesn't sleep. He doesn't eat. He doesn't leave. And he has opinions about the structural integrity of everything Kit touches. He's seven feet of living stone, glowing amber eyes, wings that don't fit through doorways, and a communication style best described as "dry enough to start a fire." He tracks her heartbeat through three floors of masonry. He considers her ladder placement a personal affront. And he's been alone so long that the first time she touches his hand, every gargoyle on the building opens its eyes. She can't sell the building without destroying him. She can't save the farm without the money. And she definitely can't keep pretending the stone man on the roof isn't the most interesting thing that's happened to her in twenty-nine years. Some things are set in stone. Some things shouldn't be.

He stopped being human because grief was easier as an animal. She stopped asking for help because everyone who helped eventually left. Kit Dunbar is holding a failing motor lodge together with duct tape, profanity, and a multi-tool her dead grandmother gave her. Leshy has been in the Maine woods since before the town existed, shifting between animal forms, watching humans come and go, choosing solitude over the cost of caring. He fixed her roof because it was in his territory. He stayed because she threw a boot at his head and he hasn't been that interested in anything in two hundred years. She let him stay because the roof stopped leaking and the water was hot and he brought her wild honey and looked at her like she was worth four hundred years of patience. Things grow where he stands. Moss on the walls. Flowers through the floor. A vine that reaches for her in the dark. He can't hide what he feels. The forest won't let him.