My name is Artie and I have a problem. My dear grandfather Brew died, succumbing to his love for pastries and leaving me all of his possessions. I now officially own a crumbling tower and two black cats. Unfortunately, this means I also have to take on his responsibilities as a wizard, an impossible thing for me, since I am not one. I am a witch, a good witch, and terribly poor at it. My cats are no help, and they only mock me. My parents are off gallivanting Goddess knows where. I suck at casting spells, yet I am supposed to participate in the very important ritual of the Beckoning in Brew's stead. To top it off, instead of trying to figure things out, I keep drooling over weird men and finding love in all the wrong places. Wizards and necromancers? What's next, a dragon? In my defense, choosing a boyfriend is really difficult when you're trying to resurrect the land and save its ungrateful people. It doesn't help that I have to avoid being seriously hurt by evil geniuses and cackling witches. Help me out here. I pay in hugs and black kittens. For an inquiry, call 0-900-ARTIE-THE-GOOD-WITCH. Content advisory: This title contains references to near rape.