I wish I could escape my past. But when it catches up to me, I don’t get to make the wishes—I have to grant them.

Becoming a widow on my fortieth birthday was not what I had planned.

Even worse? It’s forced me and my teenage daughter back to Whispering Willows and the life of magic I left behind.

I tell myself it’ll be a short trip to sell my mother’s shop of wishes. Until I kind of, sort of bind myself to the shop.

With bills piling up fast, I gotta do something I swore I never would: open shop and start granting wishes, just until I can figure out how to undo this pesky binding spell.

It doesn’t help that the handsome mayor keeps tempting me with those kissable lips. Or that I have to hide from my daughter that magic is real.

I wish I could leave my past behind, but in this line of work, I’ve learned one very important rule: be careful what you wish for.