The Problem with Pixies

A pixie-infested farmhouse.

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A pain-in-the-butt familiar.

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A hunky lumberjack shifter.

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Not at all what a witch on the run like me expects to find in small-town Redbud, Indiana, but life’s been throwing me a bunch of curveballs lately.

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Most recently? Discovering a demonic curse on the family grimoire sucking the magic straight out of my coven’s hearts. 10 out of 10 do not recommend, and there’s only one thing an uninitiated witch like me can do.

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Steal it.

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Get that spell book as far away from my family and the rival coven who cursed it, hide it, and figure out how to break the curse. Preferably before it decides to infect me. Or those hellhound trackers hunt me down.

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Say goodbye to carefree afternoon teas and hello to a new identity, a new town, absolutely no distractions—including that gorgeous bad-boy shifter with his own hidden past—and a secret place to work. So those overly curious, gossiping pixies currently infesting my new farmhouse? They gotta go. Tonight.

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A new witch is in town, and I’m on a mission.