My life was going just fine by most standards. I ran a successful business in a tight-knit magical community, and lived just blocks from a beautiful lake and series of hiking trails. Then Selene showed up. According to some magical code I inherit my aunt's ancient familiar; a grumpy ten-pound cat with a broken filter. She fancies herself something of a saber-toothed tiger, and claims to have wrestled the thread of her ninth life from the hands of the Fates themselves—although, I'm pretty sure that last part isn't true. Almost positive.

Thanks to a series of unfortunate events - and one backstabbing frenemy - home is exactly where I'm headed. Back to Winterspell Lake, where magic runs rampant and humans are outlawed. Faster than you can say hocus pocus I'm unpacking my bags and settling into the guest room of my parents' house, trying to ignore the creeping sensation that I'll never break free again. The one thing Winterspell has going for it is the sweets shop in the center of town, a bakery filled with magical creations designed to enchant the taste buds and charm even the pickiest of connoisseurs.

Holly Boldt is a witch with a problem. Make that lots of problems. Following her banishment from the supernatural world, she is thrust into a halfway house for paranormal misfits like her. With a warring shifter and vampire roommate and a cantankerous ghost landlady, she's got a full plate. Unsurprisingly, she finds solace in the human residents of the small coastal town and begins to feel like maybe - just maybe - she could finally have a normal life. Until her best friend is accused of a murder she didn't commit.

Twenty-nine-year-old Imogen Banks is hashtag struggling. After a disaster ends her career, destroys her home, and burns up all the money she’s saved to open her own bakery, she enters a baking contest for an all-or-nothing last-ditch chance at getting her life together. But when she arrives at the mysterious island off the coast of France, she discovers all the inhabitants of the quaint town are magical, and if she wins the contest, she’ll become the next royal baker at the castle on top of the hill. No worries that the last royal baker appears to have been murdered. 

The first rule of being a ghost whisperer: Don't tell anyone. Seriously. Don't. Sure, it might sound harmless. A fun party trick, even. I assure you, it's not. How do I know? Well, let's just say that I've had a lot of experience with this sort of thing, and nine times out of 10, it turns into an all-consuming disaster.