Being invited to my cousin’s wedding really shouldn’t be a big deal except, oh yeah, I haven't seen my family for a decade. My parents turned their backs on me, and I’ve done everything since to become successful and show them what they've lost. Only it’s kinda hard to be a success when you’re a walking trainwreck.

I'm trapped in the middle of nowhere with the sexiest man I've ever seen... what could possibly go wrong? My family sent me here thinking it would help lift my mood. When I think about it now, I realise I didn’t give nearly enough thought to what it would be like, or what I’d be doing on a farm. If anything, I had a vague, nebulous notion that it would be like some sort of retreat. Boy, was I wrong. Far from relaxing, I now find myself tending to actual sheep. If you knew me at all, you’d know how preposterous that is.

I've spent most of my life knowing that supernatural creatures exist but never really interacting with any, so my knowledge of them is limited. Still, who would've thought a demisexual incubus was a thing? Well apparently, not only is it a thing, but I have one who claims to be my soulmate—or viramore, as he calls it. And now he has it in his head that he's going to save me from my past.

Ash is technically a fire mage, but he can't do much. Turning his bedroom lights on and off without having to get out of bed isn't exactly awe inspiring, not when anyone with the right gadget could clap and do the same thing. Worse, sometimes he senses something bigger and brighter lurking under his skin, and it feels so familiar he knows it has to be his magic, but then he burps or sneezes, and the feeling passes. So it's probably just allergies . . . or gas. Yeah . . . Not exactly brimming with magical oomph. Not anymore. It sucks.

It's the carefree '80s and Juliette Lucian-Sorel has it all. She's the greatest dancer to ever grace the floorboards of Palais Garnier, she's royalty to her adoring fans, and Paris is at her feet. Or so it seems . . .