My name is Gracie Springs, and I am not a witch... but I'm pretty sure my cat is. I first started to get suspicious when he jumped just a little too high while chasing after a robin in our front yard. I knew for sure when he opened up his mouth and addressed me by name! The first thing he told me? That he doesn't like the name I gave him—even though "Fluffy" fits him like a warm sweater at Christmas. Now we've compromised on "Merlin the Magical Fluff," which according to him references his long and proud lineage just fine. After that small matter was settled, he informed me that I must uphold his secret or risk spending the rest of my life in some magical prison. I agreed, not knowing it would turn into a full-time job of covering his tracks and fibbing our way out of some pretty tight spots. When my boss at the local coffee shop turns up dead as a dormouse, things go from challenging to practically impossible... especially since all my coworkers seem...

My name is Tawny Bigford. I'm 35, single, and I love hot showers. Seriously, all I wanted was a hot shower to start my day off right, but when I went to confront my landlady about the broken plumbing, I wound up talking to her corpse instead. Now everyone thinks I'm to blame for her murder—not the best way to make an impression on the new neighbors, let me tell you. But how can I prove I'm innocent when I know practically nothing about the woman I supposedly killed? Especially not the fact that she was the official Beech Grove town witch. Her former boss—a snarky black cat named Mr. Fluffikins—says I have to fill her vacated role until the real killer can be caught and brought to justice. So, whether or not I like it, I've just been recruited to the Paranormal Temp Agency. Now I need to solve my landlady's murder, figure out how to wield my newly granted powers, and maybe even find a way to fit in around here. Yup. All in a day's...

Is this nosy trash panda a sleuth or a suspect? Lately my life has seemed pretty perfect—great house, great gig as my own boss, great new boyfriend, and the world's most awesome talking cat. Turns out I shouldn't have let my guard down... Even though my private investigation firm is brand new, I've already got some not-so-friendly competition, and it's coming from the sticky-fingered raccoon who lives under my front porch. I have no doubt he's robbing his clients since he's stealing from mine, too. Things go from irritating to downright dangerous when he foists a little trinket from my attic, one that suggests dark secrets and spells big trouble for my beloved Nan. I need to learn more, but that's not going to be easy since the person of interest lives under the same roof. Can I trust this raccoon racketeer with something so dear? Unfortunately, I haven't got any other options.