"As per Laura’s instructions, Derek had gone out to meet with a witch who could potentially be their Emissary.

Except.

Except she was not exactly magnanimous when Derek had turned down her advances. Which Derek still blamed on Laura. So now, he was four inches tall. And separated from his Pack. And stuck in an apartment that smelled of overly horny young adult, and curly fries, and fox, and werewolf, and the overpowering smell of cinnamon/lightning/rain/pine/apple. And he's naked because apparently, clothes don’t shrink with you when you’re hit with a shrinking spell. Who fucking knew? Not Derek."