MOONING OVER A MONSTER
Satine expects to spend a lonely life on the shores of Lake Galen. She doesnotexpect a charming bear shifter with a monster crush.
Satine lives in the small town of Folk Haven, a place full of mythical creatures. But even among shifters and sirens and dragons, she's still seen as odd. Because Satine is a monster. With no human face to wear out in the world, she has to live hidden in her house on a remote corner of Lake Galen, alone most days other than the friends she has online.
Alone until a bear shifter delivery man takes interest in her…
Can Mahon convince Satine to come out from the shadows? Can she break down her walls to accept the passion he offers? Or will Satine also hide from love?
1
Frankenstein’s monsterfucking The Creature from the Black Lagoon doggy style is inspired. I never thought of myself as an artistic genius until this moment.
But will my audience be impressed?
A long time ago, I convinced myself not to care what other people thought. At least, not enough to affect me emotionally. But I still can’t go out in public. Not when most humans’ opinions when they see me are …
Ah! Monster!
Terrifying beast that’s come to devour my soul!
Run!
Call the authorities!
Shoot it!
Much worse than leaving the house on a bad hair day. So, I avoid everyone, even as I refuse to care about their opinions.
But I do care abouthim. My delivery guy. The single audience member for my front yard setup.
Through the glass of my upstairs window, I hear the buzz of his engine approaching. I know it’s him because I live at thefarthest corner of Lake Galen. The road to my house is a ten-minute dirt lane from the closest paved surface.
Through the trees, a bright blue moped appears. He must have some durable tires to make the trek on that silly machine. But he does make it once a week, as he’s been doing for the past few months on the days I treat myself to lunch and caffeine from Coffee & Claws—Folk Haven’s best and only coffee shop. Bonus for me: seeing the burliest, handsomest deliveryman I’ve ever spied on from my bedroom window.
Yes, I’m a creep. Might as well lean into it.
The guy shuts off his engine and kicks down the stand that keeps his scooter upright. With a turtle-shell helmet clipped under his chin, the only hair I see is the vibrant red beard covering the lower half of his milk-pale face. But the bushy mass can’t cover up the wide grin or muffle his booming laugh.
He likes it.
Over the years, I’ve collected life-sized figurines of my favorite classic movie monsters. Actual monsters that go around, murdering terrified fictional humans. Not monsters like me, who just happened to be born more different than most.
A few weeks ago, on a whimsical urge, I arranged the figures outside for a monster picnic. Only I forgot to bring them back inside before ordering myself lunch.
The delivery guy came upon my creepy garden scene.
When I heard him laugh, the delicious deep bellow rising from his belly, I immediately developed an addiction for the noise.
The next time, I had Jason chopping wood while The Wolf Man cooked marshmallows over a cardboard fire.
The week after, Dracula and The Mummy danced the waltz under a disco ball suspended from an overhead tree branch.
Then, there was a poker game.
A bake sale.
A cheerleading pyramid. That required three hours to arrange and a lot of strategically placed wire.
