Death Meets Cute

Death Meets CuteBy J. Penner Paperback "Filled with so much love, heart, and delicious baked goods." Rebecca Thorne, USA Today bestselling author of Can't Spell Treason Without Tea I am more than capable of being evil today. I think Iris Weyward wants to be bad. Truly bad. Terrifyingly, gloriously villainous. But after helping her sisters unleash a spell to throw the realm into chaos, Iris is left feeling strangely emptyand not at all like the villain of her dreams.

By J. Penner 

Paperback

"Filled with so much love, heart, and delicious baked goods." —Rebecca Thorne, USA Today bestselling author of Can't Spell Treason Without Tea

I am more than capable of being evil today. I think…

Iris Weyward wants to be bad. Truly bad. Terrifyingly, gloriously villainous. But after helping her sisters unleash a spell to throw the realm into chaos, Iris is left feeling strangely empty—and not at all like the villain of her dreams. So, she sets off for the quiet town of Fraywell to build her wicked legacy alone. 

Things start promisingly: a crooked little cottage, a reputation for curses and potions, and a healthy dose of fear from the locals. But when her ogre bodyguard disappears, Iris needs new muscle. Good thing a fearsome orc just toppled over in her yard. Naturally, she decides to reanimate him. It's a perfect solution. 

Only, Talon isn't the brooding warrior she was hoping for. He's gentle. He bakes. Worst of all, he's nice. But Iris can't possibly have a thing for her new employee. She's supposed to be the most wicked witch in town! 

While Iris struggles to turn Talon into the enforcer she deserves, her sisters arrive seeking help—their magic is fading, and the cause may be closer than any of them realize. The timing couldn't be worse, and falling for an orc wasn't supposed to be part of her villain era, but love might turn out to be the best spell she's ever cast…

Before she was mine, I was fine protecting her from afar. It's never been about a happy ending or being her hero, but now, I crave both. Call it the Foxx curse or penance for my sins, but when all of it explodes and the lives of those I love are threatened, there are only two things I have left to bargain with: bourbon and proof.