Comedy Horror Supernatural

Pandemonium: a twilight dimension of nightmare creatures, mythical beings, the undead, and everything in between. To Dead Jack, it’s hell sweet hell. In the first book of the series, the tortured, drug-addicted detective and his associate, the homunculus Oswald, face rogue leprechauns, ghost pirates, a sex-obsessed shark woman, sycophantic ghouls, an insecure fire demon, and a goateed maniac who calls himself the Duke of Pandemonium.

Out of work for months, Lussi Meyer is desperate to work anywhere in publishing. Prestigious Blackwood-Patterson isn’t the perfect fit, but a bizarre set of circumstances leads to her hire and a firm mandate: Lussi must find the next horror superstar to compete with Stephen King, Anne Rice, and Peter Straub. It’s the ’80s, after all, and horror is the hottest genre. But as soon as she arrives, Lussi finds herself the target of her coworkers’ mean-spirited pranks.

Tophet County's Midnight Carnival has it all: a mesmerizing (literally) Phæras Wheel, the racy delights of Sphinxter's All-Archonic Peep Show, and the lip-smacking lure of "things which never should have been fried." It's the perfect prelude to the witch's romantic night with her boyfriend, Chad . . . until a creepy fortune teller makes dire predictions with an enchanted deck of Garbage Pail Kids cards, an otherworldly pyromaniac sets the moon on fire, and a shipload of pasta-faced beasties from Lovecraft's backlist lands on the Dunwich Park softball field.

‘Chillingly addictive’ – Cosmopolitan AN INSTANT SUNDAY TIMES BESTSELLER ‘I did an evil thing to be put in here, and I’m going to have to do an evil thing to get out.’ In this twisted, unforgettable horror, a group of young girls turn to a dark, ancient magic. From Grady Hendrix, New...

An unsettling horror novel from the Sunday Times bestselling author, for fans of Stephen King, Catriona Ward and Chuck Wendig Your worst nightmare is about to come true… When an overnight camping trip in the woods on Halloween night goes wrong, and a girl ends up dead with what looks like...

Dave Marwood is trapped in a soul-crushing dead-end job. He's in love with his work colleague Melanie and his only friend Gary is a conspiracy theory nut. His life is going nowhere until he has a Near Death Experience—though Death thinks of it as a Near Dave Experience. He discovers gifts he never knew he possessed and a world he never dreamed existed. A world where the Grim Reaper is a hard-drinking, grumpy Billy Joel fan and the undead are bored, lonely, and dangerous.

Topper is a hilarious, ribald comedy about a mild-mannered bank manager and two capricious ghosts, George and Marion Kerby, who make it their mission to rescue Topper from the drab "summer of suburban Sundays" that is his life.

Ishmael Jones and his partner Penny have been despatched to assist a group of scientists who are investigating a mysterious black hole which has appeared on a Somerset hillside. Could it really be a doorway to another dimension, an opening into another world? When one of the scientists disappears into the hole - with fatal consequences - Ishmael must prove whether it was an accident - or murder. But with no clues, no witnesses, and no apparent motive, he has little to go on. Is there an alien predator at large, or is an all-too-human killer responsible?

Kate and Michael, twenty-something housemates working at the same Trader Joe’s supermarket, are thoroughly screwed when people start turning into zombies at their house party in the Oakland hills. The zombie plague is a sexually transmitted disease, turning its victims into shambling, horny, voracious killers.

This is how my tombstone read: Elizabeth Anne Taylor. April 25, 1974-April 25, 2004. Our sweetheart, only resting. Only, I wasn’t resting under it. I had, of course, died in the spring. Rose in the early dawn hours the day of my funeral and gone on undead walkabout. Since my body was MIA, the funeral was canceled. But my mother, who had been in a huge fight with my dad and stepmom about what to spend on my marble tombstone, had rushed to order the thing. By the time it was finished, no funeral, no service, no burial. So anyway, my tombstone had been in storage for the last six months.

It’s bad enough that its venom-dripping chelicerae can slice through flesh like warm butter. Worse? It’s right there under the bunk. It’s a fact now. To make it through the night, the children must obey the rules: don’t get out of bed, stay out of the shadows, and don’t wake the beast. But as the threats multiply, so do the rules of survival. And with the safety of dawn still hours away, the fun is just beginning.