Midlife Magic in Marshmallow Series

I knew hot flashes were supposed to be hot, but I didn't expect flames. One day I'm in anger management, normalizing the cordial hate between me and my husband. The next, we're divorced, and he has taken both our house and the business we built together. I'm 40 years old and living above our empty restaurant, plotting my next move. And then the world around starts lighting up - literally catching on fire. I'm starting to think my defining characteristic may not be my snark or my cupcake-baking prowess, but spontaneous combustion.

Scrapbooking is magic, and so am I. Or at least I would be, if I could take a freaking nap already. What kind of dream witch can't even make herself fall asleep? A tired witch. A middle-aged, raising-her-teenage-son-alone witch. I'm supposed to keep the magic world a secret. I'm supposed to dream the future. But supposed-tos are for suckers. At 41, I'm done with doubt. And I'm not about to let anyone else tell me what I can or can't do.

After a two-decade marriage ends with my husband's disappearance, I'm left to wonder: Did he run off with another woman? Or is he dead? And which one is worse? Before I can answer that, I turn into a chicken. A real one. The kind that fears KFC. I want nothing to do with Marshmallow's magic community, but somehow, I keep getting pulled into its drama. There are only two choices - keep hiding from the new reality of my life or embrace the weird, the magic, and the feathers.

Life's a witch, and then you die. Unless you're me. One hundred forty years in, my body won't quit. Sure, I'm slower than I used to be, and I can't complete a simple task without setting off a chain reaction of pain in my joints. But my heart keeps on ticking.

I'm living Murphy's Law with a magical twist. If something can go wrong, it will. Monsters show up. And then I die. Again and again and again. I'm stuck in a time loop, and the mistakes I have to fix aren't even mine. Some idiot in the coven causes a hiccup in my plans, and I have to start over. The only person who will listen to me isn't a person at all. It's a garden gnome. It's possible I lost my marbles on the road to Marshmallow. But if I can't figure out how to manipulate this group of witches into making the right choices, I know where the loop takes me. To the end of the world.