Wishing for a Magical Midlife

Becoming a widow on my fortieth birthday was not what I had planned. Even worse? It's forced me and my teenage daughter back to Whispering Willows and the life of magic I left behind. I tell myself it'll be a short trip to sell my mother's shop of wishes. Until I kind of, sort of bind myself to the shop. With bills piling up fast, I gotta do something I swore I never would: open shop and start granting wishes, just until I can figure out how to undo this pesky binding spell.

I didn't expect to be a widow at forty years old. I didn't expect to be a single mother. I didn't expect to inherit a mountain of debt. And I definitely didn't expect to return to Whispering Willows—or my life as a witch. But here I am: I've reopened my mother's wish shop, started granting wishes, and am teaching my daughter magic. Life is perfect . . . Almost.

Forty and fabulous is my motto. It's been twenty years since I escaped Whispering Willows and my humble beginnings. Now I live in LA, working my dream job as head witch at a growing corporation, getting paid the big bucks to cast spells some might find morally questionable. Life is perfect. Until the night my boyfriend surprises me with a "romantic" getaway in the middle of nowhere, and I find a shovel and rope in his trunk. Romance is truly dead.