How to Negotiate With a Nightmare

Book 3: Seven Suitors For Seven Witches

by Amy Boyles

Genres: Witches; Paranormal; Romantic Fantasy; Fantasy Romance

Synopsis

The King of Nightmares has lost his power and only one woman can save it...

Chelsea Thornrose is a walking, talking, book-loving witch. She can spout off fun facts about various subjects. But what she can't tell you is who she's going to marry, and marry she must, otherwise her family's magic, as well as her own, will disappear.

Forever.

Worse, there doesn't seem to be any getting out of this. Which means, she should be overjoyed when the arrogant King of Nightmares decides that he wants to date her, but Chelsea smells a rat. Why would this super-hot and super annoying guy from the dream world want to date a witch?

The King of Nightmares is cursed. His ability to wield dreams is failing, and everyday his power weakens. With it, the veil that separates the real world from the land of dreams becomes thinner.

He needs answers as to what's happening with his magic, and those answers are hidden in the depths of a dangerous book, a book that just so happens to belong to the Thornrose family.

When a spell goes wrong and the King and Chelsea find themselves trapped inside the book, they have two choices—go their separate ways or work together and escape. But as they work together, the lines between enemies and allies begins to blur, and Chelsea finds herself wondering that maybe being trapped in the book forever is the least of her problems. Maybe losing her heart is worse.

This is the third book in the Seven Suitors for Seven Witches series. If you're new to the series, start with How To Fake it With a Fae. It's got all the feels--ballroom scenes, a broody fae king, a magical bookshop, found family and sisterhood.

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Release date: March 26, 2026

Publisher: Ladybugbooks LLC

Print pages: 339

Sample

How to Negotiate with a Nightmare I have three problems: One: The hot guy I met in the bushes (don't ask) has magic so cold and dangerous it should come with a warning label. Two: My family's dragging me to a ball hosted by the Nightmare King—you know, the cruel monster who rules the dark half of town where the sun literally never rises. Three: Turns out Hot Bush Guy and Nightmare King are the same person. And when our magic touches? We make flowers. Which would be romantic if I wasn't supposed to be terrified of him. Eryx Nightshade has spent ten years alone in his castle, haunted by a voice in his head that demands blood and revenge. Until I walked into his spell and the voice went from "destroy everyone" to "she's pretty, don't mess this up." Now he's thrown a ball to find me. I'm trapped in pink tulle and sparkly sneakers. And every time we touch, our magic does things that shouldn't be possible. He thinks I'm his salvation. I think he might be mine. But I'm supposed to marry someone to save my family's dying magic, and he's got a revenge plot ten years in the making. Falling for the Nightmare King wasn't part of anyone's plan. Especially the nightmare's.

 

Eryx Everyone thinks power is something you take. They never stop to wonder what happens when it’s given. Power changes hands quietly. It roots. It reshapes. It demands. Power is also why I’m standing beneath this tree, thinking that if I were ever going to jump from a bridge, today would be the day. The only thing stopping me is this—I’ve finally found the person I’ve been hunting for ten years. The woman who killed my father. The woman who smiled at him, served him tea, and then stole his life when he was too weak to fight back. After months of following whispers, hunting shadows that scattered the moment I drew close, I’ve located her. Which house is it? the voice inside me asks. That one, I reply silently, nodding at a small, brown brick cottage. Which one? The one on the left. The red one? I sigh. The red one is on the right. Oh, you mean your left. We have the same left. I don’t think that’s right. This is why I often contemplate jumping off a bridge. Use the power now, it whispers, the voice like a caress. Destroy. Make her pay for what she did to him. Make her suffer like he did. Twist her bones and crush her tendons. Wait. I think you mean that the other way around, I silently tell it. It makes more sense to crush bones than to twist them, and tendons pop. Whatever, it snaps. You know what I meant. Do it. Cast our power and get our revenge. We’ve waited ten years for this moment. Do I have to remind you what those ten years have been like? No, it doesn’t. My jaw tightens thinking of all the sleepless nights, all the worry that has flooded my body day in and out. But now the time has come. And for some reason, my stomach twists at the thought. The damn Nightmare picks up on it. You’re nervous, aren’t you? No, I’m not. Yes, you are. I can smell the fear in your blood. I roll my eyes. Don’t roll your eyes, it says. Its next words bounce inside my head like it’s circling me as if I’m the prey. We’ve waited forever to kill. To destroy. You’re ready. The power is strong in you. Unleash the nightmare or else we’ll be right back where we started—powerless, like when your father died and you couldn’t do anything. A dull ache spreads across my chest, one that’s constant. One I’ve lived with as long as I’ve lived with this damn voice in my head. Ten years, it hisses. Ten years with you inside my head, constantly pushing me to destroy—unleash nightmares on anyone you feel like torturing. There’s a brief pause, and then, very quietly, the voice argues, I don’t do that. I almost laugh. Yes, you do. Whatever, it snaps. Use the magic! Let the destruction begin! Oh, it will feel so good to be used at max power. It’s been so long. You’ve never used your max power, I remind it. Thanks to you. I exhale a sigh. Fine. Just another day of nightmares and chaos. Yes! That’s more like it. What shall we do? A dream so scary she dies by a heart attack? Make her fall into a pit so dark and scary it kills her? No, I say, rubbing my hands together. We’ll do a truth nightmare. Oh, that is so good. I know. Even I can appreciate the elegance. Now, let’s get to work. A thrill runs through me. All the time searching and planning are about to be over. Finally, justice will be served. And my father’s death will be vindicated. The nightmare inside me shifts, and the surge of power is a release, a pure pulse of energy that makes my body thrum all the way to my toes. The magic rushes from me—a wave of distortion that warps the air like heat rising off pavement. Everything it touches looks wrong, edges blurring. It races toward the house⁠— A woman steps directly into its path. No! I scream inside my head. I step forward and yank the magic back. Everything moves in slow motion. The distortion sharpens, aimed straight at me, and the nightmare snaps back, sending a wave of cold air straight through my chest. It slaps me with so much force I fall on the bushes behind me. My head hits the ground and I groan. Oh, that’s going to hurt tomorrow. Through blurred vision I see the woman stop and peer in my direction. And that’s when the voice says, Who is that? How should I know? She’s…oh, she’s pretty. Really pretty. And are those cookies I smell? She smells like vanilla. With a hint of ginger. Then the voice does something I’ve never heard it do. It purrs. I instantly understand why he’s speechless. Her hair, blonde and wild, frames her face like a halo. And her face—deep blue eyes, high cheeks. Great breasts. 

Can’t help but notice. And that’s when she reaches into the bush, grabs hold of me and yanks me out. ...