How was i supposed to know the town founders sank a trunk full of cursed objects? Seriously, they should have at least put a warning label on it because had I known, I would have left it at the bottom of the ocean. But they didn't, so I didn't, and now we've set dozens of artifacts into the hands of the blissfully unaware non-magicals who live in our small town. It's not entirely my fault, though. Everything would have turned out fine had my pathologically organized sister not catalogued them and sent them to auction before I'd had a chance to test them for magical mojo. Now the items are scattered all over town, and I'll have to track them down one by one. Lucky for me, I've got a heaping helping of ancient magic coursing through my veins, a best friend who's as powerful and loyal as he is sarcastic and charismatic, and a family with generations of experience managing dark artifacts behind us. Join Sage Parker on her first adventure as she tracks down a pendant haunted by an angry spirit bent on finding a new body regardless of who she has to hurt to get it.

What kind of crazy witch curses a diadem to kill people? Apparently the kind that founds small beach towns and makes iced tea and finger sandwiches for cocktail parties. Why am I not surprised? This is, after all, the south. I admit I messed up when I dragged a sunken treasure chest to shore. I'll even take part of the blame for my obsessive-compulsive sister throwing them in an auction before I had a chance to check them for magical mojo. That doesn't mean I should have to deal with snobby socialites and the weak-kneed weenies that bow at their Prada-clad feet. Especially when said socialite is dead. Actually, it does. Because I come from a long line of powerful witches and warlocks tasked with keeping magical artifacts out of non-magical hands. Our family reputation is sterling, but just like all fine silver and old families, there's a little tarnish here and there. It's what makes us good at what we do. Now I'm going to have to trot out every trick I know when a local woman keels over dead at her own bridal party. Not only do I have to figure out what killed her, I have to recover it before it finds another victim, then cover it up to keep magic hidden. Together with my best friend, a powerful warlock who's personality tempers my own, and an ancient catalog that's been in my family for generations, we'll find the next artifact and take one more step toward cleaning up my mess.

Burt Emerson was stubborn, rude, and ungrateful, but he didn't deserve to die for it. Much, anyway. Burt Emerson was one of the most contrary people the gods ever stretched hide over. He had it all - a great wife, a nice house, a corner office in a building he owned - but he took it all for granted. And then he turned up dead amid some bizarre circumstances. He'd reported his wife missing while she was standing right beside him, and claimed his grandfather's watch had been stolen even though it was right there on his wrist. His partner said he wandered around the parking lot of their office building but never came inside. That's a little nuts even by our standards, so I decide to take a closer look. Why me? Because through an impressively confounded set of circumstances, I set a trunkful of cursed objects loose on the unwitting non-magicals in our town. Now I have to figure out which of the pieces in his collection killed him before somebody else dies and his wife goes to prison. Just another Tuesday in Mystic Beach.

When an heiress with an auction addiction reports all her jewelry stolen then turns up dead, I just know that’s the kinda crazy that has “cursed artifact” written all over it. The problem, though, is coming up with a way to get into a high-security mansion to prove it. Fortunately, I'm a witch with a lot of magical firepower, a centuries-old shifter, and the town sheriff on my side. Come hell or high water, I’ll recover that artifact before it kills somebody else - as soon as I figure out what it is and who stole it!