Oracle of Wynter

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.

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.

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 grooming before my date. 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.

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.

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.