The day after my 43rd birthday, my husband announced he was trading me in - his words, not mine. The news was unwelcome at the time, but honestly? I needed a good goosing to get up and find my way to the door. So I was freed from the giant manual of expectations authored by my ex. That was the good news. The flip side was less happy. Due to living in a state not friendly to discarded wives, I was also relieved of the financial "security" I'd spent a lifetime accruing.

Blood Day. The deadly graduation ceremony that dictates who I will become in this world run by vampires and lycans. There is no escape. Nowhere to run. Obey or die.

My parents made a deal with the devil, and now I’m a Hell Fae captive. Enslaved. Owned. Thrown to the Hellhounds and expected to survive. Because only survivors earn their mates. It doesn’t matter that I don’t want to be a bride. I’m a Halfling. Part Hell Fae and part girl-who-doesn’t-give-a-shit. But because of a bargain, he owns me. Lucifer. The Hell Fae King who created this godforsaken realm. Also known as the orchestrator of these deadly bride-trial games.

"Happily Ever After" wasn't supposed to come with a do-over option. But when my husband of 20 years packs up and heads for greener pastures, and my son heads away to college, that's exactly what my midlife becomes. A do-over. This time, though, I plan to do things differently. Age is just a number, after all, and at 40 I'm ready to carve my own path. Eager for a fresh start, I make a somewhat unorthodox decision and move to a tiny town in the Sierra foothills.

In 1876, we were called to Savannah, Georgia to help with an infestation of demons. If we'd known what we, my wife Evangeline, and I, were walking into, we'd have run the other way. As it was, we shared tea with a vampire and stepped into a battle we did not understand until it was too late.