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Informationen zum Autor New York Times bestselling author Jessica Clare writes under three pen names. As Jessica Clare, she writes erotic contemporary romance. As Jessica Sims, she writes fun, sexy shifter paranormals. Finally, as Jill Myles, she writes a little bit of everything, from sexy, comedic urban fantasy to zombie fairy tales. Klappentext One of Amazon's Best Romances of April! Enemies-to-lovers has never been more enchanting in this witchy romantic comedy from the New York Times bestselling author of Go Hex Yourself . Penny Roundtree wants nothing more than to be a familiar to a witch. She’s been a member of the Society of Familiars ever since she was old enough to join the Fam. There’s just a small problem—no one’s hiring. Witches and warlocks are so long-lived that there are far more familiars available than witches to train them. So when an unorthodox arrangement to apprentice under the table to a forbidden warlock presents itself, she takes it. Willem Sauer is banned from having a familiar due to past transgressions, thereby limiting his magic-casting abilities. Unfortunately for the surly, Prussian warlock, he has no choice but to work with enthusiastic Penny as a familiar. They immediately clash like dried roan horsehair and honeycomb gathered by moonlight (it’s a terrible spell combination, ask anyone). Casting spells has delightful perks Penny never could have dreamed of, but also greater dangers. Someone is targeting Penny. Willem and Penny must work together to catch their enemy, and if their ploy requires a little kissing on the side, who is to question the rules of magic? Leseprobe 1 WILLEM Sir?" I look up from the book in my lap, annoyed that one of the servants has bothered to disturb me in my study. Putting aside the treatise on the casting benefits of various types of dried beetles as spell components, I eye my housekeeper. "Is there a problem?" She gestures feebly toward the front of the house. "It's happening again." My annoyance disappears immediately, replaced with surging anger and frustration. I jump to my feet, racing out of my study and down the hall. "Where?" "M-mailbox," she calls after me. "Dorothy found a dead bird in your mailbox." I storm out the front door and into the neighborhood. My house is in a little suburban community of other witches and warlocks, because it's easiest to have neighbors that won't call the police on me at all hours. I scan my lawn and the driveway. Nothing seems amiss, but the mailbox is hanging open. Biting the inside of my cheek, I manage to keep a bland expression on my face as I stalk toward the curb. One quick glance inside the mailbox shows that Dorothy did not lie. There's a dead dove inside, nestled atop my mail. That weasel. I knew he'd come after me, especially after I'd just stolen his prized library. It's an affront that can't go unrecognized. Still, to frighten my housekeeping staff feels petty. He's lucky they're well aware I'm a warlock . . . even if they're not aware that I'm a stifled one. I pull out the dove, irritated. The breast of the dead bird has been painted with runes, and I'm sure if I opened it up and examined the contents of its stomach, I'd find laurel leaves and a pebble from a hero's grave. It's a specific sort of spell that my nemesis is casting, one designed to break my wards and make my house vulnerable to others. This isn't the first time that my old master Stoker has tried this sort of stunt. Ever since I left his service, he's tried to have me killed. However, it is the first time he's cast a curse at my current house. The house I'd had built to my specifications ten years ago, after I'd been forced to move from the last one because Stoker had found me again. He wants to make my life hell. And since I can't cast to protect myself, the only ...
