Six months ago, I lost my husband. Six hours ago, I found out he had another family. Six minutes ago, my life changed forever. For my 45th birthday, I planned to treat myself to a spa day with my bestie. But instead, my late husband’s insurance broker drops by to let me know that not only am I still widowed, but my husband’s insurance policies are being paid to his other wife - and his other family. Happy birthday to me. Shell-shocked and still forty-five, my spa day becomes wine night as I attempt to drown my sorrows with music and dancing. The next thing I know, I'm being romanced by an Indiana Jones wannabe who arrives like a dervish to sweep me off my feet. One thing leads to another but before anything happens, Indy goes missing, the place is trashed, and I’ve got myself a glowing snake tattoo that seems to be talking to me about magic, curses, and a hex that is going to kill me. And I get to do the walk of shame - without having any of the fun. I arrive home to to find Logan Gentry, a tall, dark drink of water who seems to think I am some ancient magical being sent here to solve his problems. On any other day, I would bust out my Taser and show him who’s boss but there’s something about his story - and the fact that he knows all about my talking tattoo - that draws me in. One thing is for sure… this guy knows more about what’s happened to me than I do. If I help him, maybe I’ll find some answers along the way. Assuming the curse on my possessed tattoo doesn’t kill me first. Age is just a number, right? Especially when you're possessed by an ancient Oracle.