My author finally has a blurb—and it’s worse than I feared.
I don’t believe in witches, spells, fated mates, and I sure as hell don’t believe in ice skating! I hate cold weather, snow, and ice. Nothing is making me visit Silver Springs. . .
BUT—there’s always a ‘but’—apparently, three unsuspecting men trespass upon a cranky old witch’s territory and we’re talking ‘hasn’t had her morning brew’ cranky.
So, what does witch do?
She changes these poor guys into the objects that they’re holding and drops them off at the nearest gas station!
Then, this supposedly lonely sex therapist (*cough, cough, wave*) buys these objects and, later, mutters a spell by accident—a spell!
What happens then?
The men turn into shifters, and my world is turned upside-down.
Throw in some magical skates and fated mates, and you’ve got a debacle cooking like Silver Springs has never seen.
This book sounds like a disaster waiting to happen for me.
Well, I’m not going to sit here and take it—shitcicles are going to hit the fan when this debacle of a story is said and over.