Most witches get a cat for a familiar. I got the Devil.
Or his ghost, to be specific.

That might sound cool in theory, but trust me—when he’s narrating your smut books at the butt crack of dawn—it’s not.
He may be great to look at with a voice made for whispering filthy things, but he’s also a giant pain in my ass.

So after ten long months of not dating because I‘ve got a demon king stalker, I finally decide to try again.
That’s when I meet him. Tall, gorgeous, and keeping dark secrets.
Apparently I have a type.

I must be cursed because I can’t even get to first base with the incubus god before my ex-fiancé shows up.

To say I have bad taste in men is an understatement. They’re all possessive and hellbent on keeping me.
I’d be flattered if not for the obvious—I’m no one. Just an outcast witch trying to save my little corner of the world.

I don’t need a hero, or three, and even if I did—they’re not the heroes in this story. They’re the villains. And they’ll tear my heart to pieces if I give them the chance.