When Dani convinces her five sisters to sink everything they have into purchasing a dilapidated old plantation, it seems like a great idea at the time. They need a site to expand their business, and none of them are strangers to the occasional escapade. Little do they know buying Willowberry Plantation House will be the biggest adventure of their lives. As New Orleans natives, the sisters aren't at all surprised to find a ghost haunting their new house. What they don't see coming is their discovery that the land was cursed by a wrathful witch centuries earlier.

One day, I'm married, living in the triangle, and working as a head nurse at one of the country's best hospitals. The next, I've shed a 175 pounds of idiot and find myself encountering ghosts, dragons, and pixies while taking care of a sick patient. Losing my sanity didn't seem like the worst thing to happen since I moved back home with my mom and nana.

I’m half-witch, half-faery, and facing dangers as real as the ache in my bad knee. Ibuprofen and caffeine keep me going, and I could do this for the rest of my life. Whoever thinks my family home is an easy mark better take notice: The new Guardian in town isn’t going down without a fight. After all, she’s already learned to let go of her simple existence and believe in the extraordinary power inside of her. What could possibly stop her now?

The cost of my transformation is greater than I could have imagined. A cataclysmic upheaval shakes the foundation of my entire family, threatening to tear us apart. The toll nearly claims my beloved husband's life, pushing the boundaries of our endurance to their very limits. Unfortunately, I cannot escape this ethereal web of fate. Thrust into a role I never asked for, I have no choice but to evolve until I become a guardian of relics. I will carry the weight of ancient powers and hidden truths like a sentinel in a world teetering on the precipice of chaos, or I will perish while trying.

Thirty-nine was a fantastic year. I was married to the man I loved. I had a body that worked without creaking. My grandma, who raised me, was still healthy, and life was pretty damned good. But as they say, all good things come to an end. One year later, I’m a widow. My joints are starting to ache. Gram is in the nursing home, and dead people think my home is some kind of supernatural bed-and-breakfast. Gluing body parts onto semi-transparent people has become a side job - deceased people I’m not even sure are actually there.