At age forty I’ve stopped caring if that’s a compliment or a dig. Now I just wear it like a badge of honor. So when life threw me a curveball and I ended up going from a cushy job in New York City to the tiny Southern town of Grimm Cove I thought I was ready for anything.
Ha! Not quite.
You see, Grimm Cove is teeming with supernaturals. Since I’ve known they exist all of like a hot minute, I’m still in a state of total shock. When I learn that I come from a long line of witches and demon slayers, the stakes (pun intended) get even higher and sharper.
These monsters aren’t make-believe. They’re out for blood. I’m trying to decide if having the head of the local wolf-shifter pack nipping at my heels is an asset in this fight, or if he’s one more person I need to watch my back around.
Thank the estrogen goddesses I have my besties with me or I’m not sure I could survive being what most would label middle-aged, hunted by demons, and the heat that comes along with the South.