Charmed Series

I know my purpose: To rid the world of evil, one bad guy at a time.
 
When I turned twenty I took the oath to protect, and for the last five years I’ve kept that promise.  Currently, I’ve got a gig as a kind of one-witch secret service to the British Prime Minister—using a combination of potions, spells, explosions, mind-reading, and general butt-kicking skills, I’ve saved him from so many assassins we’ve quit counting. Umm, did I mention explosions?  Yeah, well: we all have our talents, and mine’s combustion.
 
After that recent incident when those stupid warlocks tried to sacrifice me, I decided I’m going to write everything down. That way if some creep knocks me off, someone will know what happened.  But hopefully this diary won’t be all about maiming and killing. I’d like to write some sexy bits, too.  Especially about Dr. Sam, who’s smart, funny, adorable, everything I’d want in a man—except he’s a warlock. Sorry, that’s a big no-no in Bronwyn’s book of dating material.  I might as well face it: witches don’t do so well in the boyfriend department.  Somehow, men find me a tad intimidating. I can’t imagine why.

After spending most my life single (for witches it’s practically an occupational hazard) I finally found someone to love. OK, so then he got killed, but he’s recuperating nicely.  And I should be home, nursing him—maybe just a little bit naughtily—back to health.
 
But no.  The Prime Minister asked if I could look after this rock star buddy of his, Zane.  Creepy Goth guys in cloaks keep showing up at his concerts and zapping his mojo.  Hmm, smells like teen warlock to me. Anyway, I owe the PM, and Zane is fun, too—I mean, what girl wouldn’t want to hang with the hottest man in music? 
 
Look, everyone has vices.  Right now, I’d like to indulge in one of mine and blow some people up so I can get back to my sweetie in Texas. But if these caped dudes don’t show themselves before another paparazzi shot of Zane and me hits the tabloids, I may not have a boyfriend to go home to.
 
“From demon-hunting and club-hopping to boyfriend-minding and shoe-shopping, this book has it all.”—Romancedivas.com
 
“A delightful ride from the first page to the last . . . the action is immediate and lightning fast.”—Romance Reviews Today

I know my purpose: To rid the world of evil, one bad guy at a time.
 
When I turned twenty I took the oath to protect, and for the last five years I’ve kept that promise.  Currently, I’ve got a gig as a kind of one-witch secret service to the British Prime Minister—using a combination of potions, spells, explosions, mind-reading, and general butt-kicking skills, I’ve saved him from so many assassins we’ve quit counting. Umm, did I mention explosions?  Yeah, well: we all have our talents, and mine’s combustion.
 
After that recent incident when those stupid warlocks tried to sacrifice me, I decided I’m going to write everything down. That way if some creep knocks me off, someone will know what happened.  But hopefully this diary won’t be all about maiming and killing. I’d like to write some sexy bits, too.  Especially about Dr. Sam, who’s smart, funny, adorable, everything I’d want in a man—except he’s a warlock. Sorry, that’s a big no-no in Bronwyn’s book of dating material.  I might as well face it: witches don’t do so well in the boyfriend department.  Somehow, men find me a tad intimidating. I can’t imagine why.