Oracle of Wynter

Six months ago, I lost my husband. Six hours ago, I found out he had another family. Six minutes ago, my life changed forever. For my forty-fifth birthday, I planned to treat myself to a spa day with my bestie. But instead, my late husband's insurance broker drops by to let me know that not only am I still widowed, but my husband's insurance policies are being paid to his other wife - and his other family. The next thing I know, I'm being romanced by an Indiana Jones wannabe who arrives like a dervish to sweep me off my feet. One thing leads to another but before anything happens, Indy goes missing, the place is trashed, and I've got myself a glowing snake tattoo that seems to be talking to me about magic, curses, and a hex that is going to kill me. I arrive home to find Logan Gentry, a tall, dark drink of water who seems to think I am some ancient magical being sent here to solve his problems. One thing is for sure... this guy knows more about what's happened to me than I do. If I help him, maybe I'll find some answers along the way. Assuming the curse on my possessed tattoo doesn't kill me first. Age is just a number, right? Especially when you're possessed by an ancient Oracle.

Five weeks ago, I might have killed a man. Five days ago, I met my husband's other wife. Five minutes ago, a dead body washed ashore. Just another day in the life of an Oracle. I thought taking care of the hex that wanted to kill me was all I had to worry about, but then Farrah Lockwood arrives on my porch with a new mystery. She's come to me for advice, but the fact she found me at all means there are bigger things afoot. What seems like a simple whodunit quickly becomes deeper and I find myself holding tight on a roller coaster ride into an ancient Egyptian curse, a pair of secret societies about to go to war, and an alarming revelation that my new friend Logan is tied up in this as well. I had just settled into the idea of being a widow when all this Oracle business landed on my arm. Now, the threats that follow Farrah have arrived on my doorstep and there's more at stake than any of us know. Did I forget to mention my doctor has confirmed I'm in menopause and all of this is getting on my last nerve? Once upon a time, I imagined forty-five would find me dealing with an empty nest and planning for retirement. I never thought I'd be single, sweaty, and fighting to stay alive.

Four weeks ago, a dead man washed ashore. Four days ago, his body disappeared from the morgue. Four hours ago, I was accused of his murder. Unfortunately for me, my last nerve drowned in the sea of my new friend named night sweats. Just when I thought it was safe to step onto my porch, the power of the Oracle has sent another person in need to my stairs. He thinks he's searching for his missing husband, but the moment I smell him, I know he's dragging along a curse from a necromancer with a stench strong enough to curl the leg hairs I haven't had time to shave. Which reminds me-I should probably do some lady grooming before my date. And did I mention I have an arraignment in court? For murder? It's all I can do to put this legal nonsense to bed before the rotten bouquet of necromancy wafts into my world yet again. If one more person says that age is just a number, they're going to wish they'd disappeared with my last nerve.

Three weeks ago, I kicked a necromancer to the curb. Three days ago, I took a much needed vacation with my new love. Three hours ago, someone threatened everything that matters to me. I've just met Nina Davenport, my newest consultant, and to say she needs my help is an understatement. For starters, it turns out she's got one hell of a gnarly curse covering her. I have no idea what this curse is meant to do, but whatever it is, it's not good. To make matters worse, Nina is on the run with a nasty ex on her tail who is determined to take her daughter from her. For the icing on the cake, this isn't something that we have lots of time to figure out. According to Florry, the magical clock is ticking on this one. Whatever is coming is coming fast. If I don't break this curse, I might lose her-and her daughter. No pressure, right? Oh yeah? And the cherry on top of the icing on the cake? Logan seems to think that leaving me is the only way to solve all his problems. But he's got another thing coming. I am too old and now losing too much hair to deal with the angsty machinations of a man who refuses to acknowledge his own midlife crisis. No one drives the Wynter bus but Wynter. If he plans to keep me in his life, he better take a seat and buckle up. Being the Oracle of Theama has been one curve ball after another, but this time I feel like I've been hit by a pitch.

Two weeks ago, I logged my first failure as an Oracle. Two days ago, I learned that magic is a fickle thing. Two hours ago, I unleashed a posse of the undead. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, they did. Not only did I need to figure out how to free Nina, I had a new consultant. Double booked is an understatement. Now, I must discover why Hazel Dane, one of the most stressed out-and most impolite-consultants I've ever had is cursed. Or enchanted. Or something. She doesn't know. Neither do I. Which is kind of a problem. I'm also not sleeping-hello, guilt-inducing-gargoyle on my front porch anyone? It's probably one more symptom of menopause, but if I don't get some sleep, someone's going to die. Which was interesting, as zombies just showed up on my front porch, trying to break down the front porch. Maybe I spoke too soon.

One week ago, I became the queen of the Oracles. One day ago, I learned the cost of such a power. One hour ago, I decided this isn't all it's cracked up to be. There's no rest for the weary. Or the wicked, depending on how you look at it. So let's look at it. First, I have a demon problem. I've had one all along, but now I know who it is and why she's here. And what she wants-she is not getting, Not if I have anything to say about it. But going up against a demon . . . the thought it terrifying. Second, I have a new quest presenting itself on my front porch in the form of FIngal Mackay, Ban-he. The problem is, something is wrong. I can feel it, sense it like you know a storm is coming. How are you supposed to help someone you know has a storm at his back? I don't have a choice, but . . . I don't feel good about it. And finally, if that's not enough, things I thought were a sure thing, safe, on my side . . . they're not. You know, because I need one more challenge. Talk about something not being all it's cracked up to be-but there's no going back. I'm the Oracle. I have my responsibilities, whether I like it or not. If I make it out of this alive, it's going to be some kind of miracle.