So here's the thing about becoming the "Island Fixer"—it sounded like a great idea at the time. Repair some broken pipes, banish a few demons, and make enough money to keep my house from falling apart. Simple, right? Wrong. Turns out, when you advertise that you can handle both home renovations and supernatural problems, the universe takes it as a personal challenge. One minute I'm trying to remove a stubborn backsplash from a sweet old lady's kitchen (YouTube made it look easy, liars), and the next I'm accidentally releasing a demon that's been trapped since the 1950s. And that demon, by the way, is really good at paperwork and has some disturbing plans involving Hell's corporate takeover of Earth. Yeah, you read that right. Hell has middle management now, and they're looking to expand. Now I'm stuck trying to save my island home from becoming the underworld's newest franchise location, all while pretending I know the difference between drywall and dimensional barriers. My boyfriend Zane is annoyingly competent with tools and looks way too hot while using them. My mom and grandmother are ready to throw down with demons. And my best friend Astra keeps calling to check if I've demolished anyone else's kitchen yet. The answer it's complicated. Because when you accidentally open a portal to Hell during a simple tile removal job, "complicated" doesn't even begin to cover it. And neither does insurance.