A Demon's Guide to Wooing a Witch （Glimmer Falls, #2(123)
I’m so grateful for my wonderful family: Mom, Dad, Steve, Mahina, Kennebeck, Lynnea, Nana, Bill, Sandy, and everyone else, with a special shout-out to Cory and Laura for their enthusiastic assault on the little free libraries of Victoria, British Columbia. Thank you to Joy for the years of love, laughter, and thoughtful art; the pens I use to sign and annotate books came from you and I think about you when I use them.
On a more serious note: If you are experiencing or have experienced a relationship like the one Calladia had with Sam, I want to tell you （A） you are not alone and （B） you deserve someone who loves you as you are and will lift you up, not cut you down. You aren’t weak or unworthy if someone has abused you verbally, emotionally, financially, physically, or sexually. If you are currently in a situation where you feel unsafe or scared or need to get out but aren’t sure how, there are resources that can help. I’m American, so I’ll share our National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE （7233）， thehotline.org, or text START to 88788.
Wherever you are, whoever you are, you deserve better. You deserve the best.
Now back to the gratitude, because if there’s any message I want readers to take away, it’s that we all deserve joy. This book is one of my joys.
There are many other people and places that have shaped this narrative. Thank you to Dorothy Dunnett for creating Francis Crawford of Lymond, the gold standard of blond, snarky, morally dubious British literary heroes who my heart seized on many years past and has never let go of. Thank you to True Blood for introducing me to （blond, snarky, morally dubious if sadly not British） Eric Northman and a delicious amnesia plotline, and thank you to Meredith Duran’s A Lady’s Code of Misconduct for aiding me in crafting my first amnesia romance. （Why did I do this to myself??? Goodness, that was hard, and thank you to every medical professional who reads this book and forgives me for questionable medical accuracy.） I’m also grateful to my local kickboxing studio for teaching me how to punch things. Thanks to everyone I met while attending the University of Sheffield for teaching me British slang and making me feel welcome when I was lonely and out of my element far from home, and here’s to the Red Deer as it was when the archaeology folks were hanging out there after class. Cheers to the venues that host my writing sessions on the weekends today—these books wouldn’t exist without you.
I would also like to thank my cats, AO3, coffee, the Reylos, every fictional villain who awoke something in me at a formative time, the sound of rain against the window, colorful socks, wood-wicked candles, weekend estate sales, bubble baths, and cheese （so much cheese）。
And you, of course, dear reader. Thank you for accompanying me on another whimsical journey to Glimmer Falls.
Keep reading for an excerpt from Sarah Hawley’s next novel . . .
A WEREWOLF’S GUIDE TO SEDUCING A VAMPIRE
On werewolf Ben Rosewood’s list of “Things to Avoid if at All Possible,” weddings were near the top.
It wasn’t that he hated seeing other people happy or that he disliked cake or an open bar or dancing—well, all right, dancing was mortifying unless one was very drunk, which the open bar took care of—it was that he felt like a terrible person every time he went to one.
He raised his champagne, swaying slightly. The post-ceremony dinner was wrapping up and it was speech-making time. Another mortifying activity best practiced by drunk people or those who didn’t have an anxiety disorder.
In vino confidence, he thought.
Mariel and Ozroth Spark, the newlyweds in question, looked at him expectantly from the sweetheart’s table. One witch, one demon: both people Ben cared about and didn’t want to disappoint with a terrible speech.
“Mariel,” he said, addressing his longtime friend and employee at his garden shop, Ben’s Plant Emporium, “it has been a privilege to work alongside you and watch you thrive like the plants you care for. You’ve always given your time, love, and support to everyone around you, and you deserve to receive that love back a thousandfold.”
Ben was sweating. He nudged his gold-framed glasses up his nose with his free hand, then peered down at the note card on the table that held his talking points.
“Now that you have Oz by your side,” he continued, “you shine more brightly than ever, and I’m happy to see it.”
It was a clumsy speech, but Mariel didn’t seem to mind. The brunette witch was beaming, looking radiant in a white dress with lacy cap sleeves and a full skirt embroidered with vines and flowers. Next to her and wearing a black suit that matched his usual stark aesthetic was Oz—or as he had once been termed, Ozroth the Ruthless. The soul bargainer had been on Ben’s shit list for a long time before he’d realized the demon was actually considerate, thoughtful, and utterly besotted with Mariel under that gruff exterior. The newlyweds’ meet-cute had involved an inadvertent summoning and bargain in which Oz had tried to take Mariel’s soul, but that issue had been resolved, and the couple had been devoted to each other for nearly two years now.
The normally surly Oz was now grinning widely, with lines of joy stamped beside his eyes. Those marks deepened with every year on Earth now that Oz was mortal, and Ben felt a surge of longing laced with envy. Not because Oz was marrying Mariel in particular—marrying Mariel, Ben’s tipsy brain repeated, delighting in the alliteration—but because they were happy and in love.
This was why Ben didn’t like weddings. He should be unconditionally delighted for his friends rather than sad about his own single status. He shoved down the shameful envy and glanced at the card again.