Middle-aged and starting over is the last thing I ever wanted on my bucket list. But since my husband announced he was gay and my daughter left for college, I don’t really have a choice. If I’m going to get my "Happily Ever After" I have to start making new choices, starting with picking guys who like women rather than women’s makeup would be a good start. Next! I’m way past the point of caring what other people think. I’m 49, about to turn 50 and I’m pretty sure I’m entering the prime years of my life. It’s time to make my mark and do things the way I want to do them. Like move. I am sooooooo leaving the city that has sucked me dry with the commute and the executive position. There’s no way I’m doing that anymore. I have enough money from the divorce to buy a house, almost any house, outside of California. I take one suitcase and my jeep, and I leave town, not stopping until I get to Cougar Creek, which is so small I think it’s barely a town, but I’m all about it. This is where I will get my fresh start. I inherited my Aunt’s home here years ago and never even visited, but the renters just moved out and I might as well make it my home. For now. But Cougar Creek has a lot more in store for me than I ever imagined. There is a load of eligible young men from the local ranches, a couple of new BFFs in similar situations, and a strange invitation to a local secret society who think I’m the new high priestess of their local coven. I didn’t stop laughing until I realized they wouldn't take “no” for an answer. They have a massive problem in the cemetery and they expect me to solve it. But I didn’t trade in one life of rules for another one, so if they want me to be high priestess, they’re going to have to accept that I make the rules.

Being a shifter isn’t the worst thing I could imagine. It’s taken care of all the hot flashes. My body temperature now runs constantly high. I like it. Snow? Who cares? I don’t need no stinking coat anymore. I can smell like ten times better than even when I was pregnant, and as for my vision? Glasses are SO last year. I won’t be needing those anytime soon. But man, what about the actual shifting? That hurts like nobody’s business. They say I’ll get used to it, but they don’t know how much it hurts, because I’m the only shifter for miles around. “They” are the coven that has accepted me and given me a new family. The threat from the cemetery is very real and the dead aren’t sleeping quietly. Our coven is the frontline on keeping the dead in their graves and for some reason, they think because I’m a wolf I should have some superpower against the dead. But I don’t. What I have is an amazing BFF just as powerful and middle-aged as me and I know together we can face anything. At least I think we can. We survived the first half of our lives. How hard can the second magic half be?

o. I get them now once I’ve gotten over my previous life and I’m neck-deep into reveling with my two new BFFs and rocking the Cougar Creek Coven. Part of it I really like, I mean…winning lotto tickets, hello! But the bit about knowing my friends are about to die, not so cool. Trying to figure out what to do about it is even harder. The future is full of unknown possibilities that are all based on the choices individuals make each moment. What does that mean? My head is CRAZY and constantly receiving different images of potential futures. Getting a handle on my new powers isn’t the only challenge I have. The dead who have been fighting to take over our town, well we finally found the cause and it’s going to take all our powers and those of the coven who doesn’t really like me and one of my BFFs, to come together so we can kick butt and not let our world fall to the vampires.

Now I feel like I should be walking around splitting my fingers and saying “Peace, live long, and prosper.” But this isn’t science fiction. This is my life and apparently, I’m Fae. I thought I was having a midlife crisis when I left my husband and ran off with a guy twenty years younger than me. Turns out he wasn’t twenty years younger than me; he was like five-hundred years older and a fae who wanted me to “wake up to who I really am.” Like that was his decision to make. Regardless, it’s too late now. I ran away to Cougar Creek Coven, which has gained a reputation as a haven for us middle aged mavens who are just discovering our magical roots and kicking butt along the way. And suddenly I realized, I’d been waiting my whole life for this. Save the world. Get the guy. And look smoking hot doing it. Despite the pointy ears, it’s good to be fae.