It’s hard being a good witch when your clients want bad magic.
I’m a witch. Not a powerful witch, mind, but as Grandma liked to say, it’s all in the kindness, not the power. Grandma is gone now, but her dream of having a witch shop lives with me. So, when the opportunity to run my own shop presents itself, I move across the country to take it, no questions asked.
But maybe I should have.
The sexy local bounty hunter shifter thinks I’m up to no good, my clients keep asking me to use forbidden dark magic, and someone’s trying to sabotage my shop. Probably the same someone who reported me to the Witch Council and left a dead body in my bathtub.
Hah! Joke’s on them. As Grandma also used to say, it’s nothing a positive attitude, excellent cleaning supplies, and the complete annihilation of whoever has in it for me can’t fix.
Paraphrasing.