Showing results for "To the Death" in Paranormal

Phoebe Winchester’s beloved Aunt Eudora has a taste for adventure—and a knack for making magical tea. It’s even rumored that she just might be a witch. So when Eudora passes away and leaves everything to her niece—her Victorian mansion, her bookshop/tea store The Earl’s Study, and one very chubby orange cat named Bob—Phoebe gets more than she bargained for. And she knows she’s in deep when a dead man is found on the shop’s back step, apparently killed while trying to break in. Now she must put her newfound power to the test and cast a spell that could catch a killer.

Whoever said life begins at forty must have been heavily medicated, drunk, or delusional. Three funerals without the deceased present? Crisis. One wedding run by drag queens with questionable taste in music? Semi-crisis, but doable. Dead showing up on my porch who have already crossed over? This is what forty looks like for me. But now I have an even bigger problem. The Higher Power wants my daughter. It’s not happening. Period.

Midlife is sheer madness, and the facts of midlife are not taught in school. Unfortunately, some lessons are hellishly hard to learn. I thought I had it figured out. I was wrong. Proving I’m the Angel of Mercy is turning into a s--tshow of epic proportions. Not too long ago, I was a 40-year-old gal with a stable and boring life ahead of me. Now? Not so much. I have celestial siblings who are no walk in the park. Their decisions can destroy my future. And of course, my predecessor has given me a month to do the impossible or I’ll lose everything that means anything to me.

I did not order the extra slice of Armageddon to go with my midlife crisis. Apparently, if you’re an Immortal, it comes free of charge. I have until sundown tomorrow to get to a parallel plane of existence, save my family, and kick bad-guy butt all before the world ends. Impossible, right? Not according to my posse of whackado buddies. They like to remind me that nothing is impossible as long as I believe. Well, I’m about to be the mother of all believers.

Just when I think everything is calming down, it ramps back up to eleven. On what should be one of the happiest and most romantic days of my life, the unthinkable happens. The ghosts I’d so kindly guided into the Light showed up on my front porch, including my dead husband. Something or someone is messing with the balance and if it’s not remedied, the Darkness will destroy the world.

I want to live my life in peace for a little while as opposed to pieces. I don’t know who I have to bribe to catch a break, but I’m willing to pay the big bucks. Apparently, no one got the memo. Midlife is one messy ride. Fine. I’m off to Lexington, Kentucky to find a self-proclaimed dragon who sports a mullet, beer belly and delusions of Immortal grandeur. This time he’s gone too far. He’s messed with me and mine for the last time. The way to end a dragon is to remove his tail. We thought we had. A tail is in the back. Right? Wrong. So, so wrong.

With a new job I didn’t apply for and an extended family I didn’t know I had - midlife has become somewhat problematic. Gluing ghosts back together is easy compared to my new celestial occupation. The Grim Reaper wants to put a ring on it. Tim wants to be a father. Candy Vargo has lost her damn mind, and Jennifer thinks we’re all sparkly vampires. I’ve been given an impossible task with catastrophic consequences for failure, but it wouldn’t be my midlife without another crisis.