It's good to be the queen-Queen Of The Hill by @Genevieve_Jack #Giveaway

It's good to be the queen! Book 3 in the Knight Games series.

After saving her caretaker, Rick, from certain death, Grateful Knight is ready for their happily ever after. The date is set and wedding plans are in the works. But when the witch responsible for the candle that almost ended Rick's life shows up in Red Grove expecting payment, the price is more than Grateful can bear.

To make matters worse, Logan is barely speaking to her, and a murder at the Thames Theater leaves everyone reeling over the future of Julius’s vampire coven. She’s finally ready to walk down the aisle, but first Grateful must face the greatest challenge of her life.

Don't miss the other books in the Knight Games Series The Ghost and The Graveyard, Book 1 Kick the Candle, Book 2 Queen of the Hill, Book 3 Mother May I, Coming Soon

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Pregnant. I could be pregnant. I trudged into my kitchen with my new dress in one hand and a Red Grove pharmacy bag in the other. The first I hung in the hall closet. The second I stared at blankly while images and incantations swirled through my brain. I attempted to make sense of the emotions brewing within me, but couldn’t sort them out.

As I stripped out of my winter clothes, my raven familiar, Poe, swept into the room on wide black wings.

“We need to speak, Witchy Woman,” Poe said. He landed on the back of the couch.

“What’s up?” I asked absently.

“Only that you have still not retrieved The Book of Light from the ghost-man Logan’s home. May I remind you once again that the rightful place for your magical grimoire is in your attic?”

“Ugh.” I tipped forward, conking my head on the kitchen island. “I know. I know. I know.” I banged my head in time with the mantra. “I keep texting him, and he’s always busy with the restaurant.”

“Perhaps pick up a phone? Get off your spell-casting ass and take back what is yours? Grow a spine and stop taking ‘later’ as an answer?”

“It’s not that easy. Logan gave me a key. Rick destroyed the key. Then, in the same conversation as I told Logan about the crushed key, I had to tell him I was engaged. I think I broke his heart.”

“More than enough reason to demand your book of magic back,” Poe insisted.

“I know. I know. I know.” Bang, bang, bang. “I’m just hoping if I give him enough time, he’ll get over it. I miss his friendship.” I straightened, scrubbing my face with my hands.

Poe scrutinized me from head to toe. “This isn’t just about The Book of Light, is it? As the kids say, what is up, buttercup? You have the pale malaise of a human suffering from the dengue.”

“I threw up this morning. Still nauseous.”

“The flu, perhaps?” Looking bored, he picked at his feathers with his beak.

I toyed with the corner of the bag on the counter. I was late. Not a lot late. Just about a week. “Can I ask you something?”

Poe shrugged his bird shoulders. “You can ask. I can’t guarantee an answer.”

“Do you think … with the candle Rick used … Do you think he was human? Like entirely human?”

“At the end? When you saved him?” Poe asked.

I nodded.

“As close to human as he could be. He was dying. If you hadn’t put out the candle, you’d be up witch creek without a paddle.”

The bag rumpled and ripped as I pulled it open and removed the pregnancy test.

“Bloody hell! You think you’re pregnant!” Poe covered his beak with one wing.

Mouth gaping like a fish, I tapped the package down on the counter. “I don’t know. I mean, I hope not. I haven’t been on birth control since Gary, and Rick and I definitely did the sexual healing thing when he was human-like.” I raised both eyebrows. “Plus, I’m late and perpetually nauseous.”

“You said it yourself. Human-like. Not fully human.” Poe gave a cynical snort. “The chances are …”

I furrowed my brow. “What, Poe? You know nothing about the magic of that candle. Are you going to babble off some made-up statistic about the chances I could be preggers? I’ll save you the trouble. It doesn’t matter if it’s one percent or ninety percent, I’m peeing on this stick.”

Genevieve Jack writes weird, witty, and wicked-hot paranormal romance for adults. Raised in a suburb of Chicago, she attended a high school rumored to be haunted, and sustains a lifelong interest in old cemeteries and ghost tours. Genevieve specializes in original, cross-genre stories with surprising twists. She lives in central Illinois with her husband, two children, and a Brittany spaniel named Riptide who holds down her feet while she writes.