Showing results for "Monstrous Fictions" in Romantic Comedy

Bossed by a monster—sounds overbearing, right? It is, and this guy's not just any monster. He's a Boggart—the literal being of nightmares—and I swear his sole mission in life is to make mine a bad dream come true. Every time I turn around, he's there. Bedazzling me. Bewitching me. Befriending me. But I won't back down, not even when Mr. Ettin proposes a friendly little bet. Who cares what the stakes are—there's no way my boss is gonna win. Except… he does.

Joel Barker is a small town vet and licensed pet groomer, and he used to own his own pet supply store. He's a bit of a renaissance man like that. He's always been good with cats and dogs and things like that, but imagine his reaction when a pale little girl with a pair of suspiciously sharp fangs visits his shop with her big brother, the Grim Reaper. The pet they ask him to help? A three-headed fire-breathing dog from the line of Cerberus.

Except I'm not the type anyone ever gives a second glance to, let alone is interested in. The only things guys check out from me are the books in the library that I oversee. But every day, the same Chupacabra comes back. At first, I think he's just lonely as he prowls behind me as I work, asking me questions. Then I realize he can't read.

When the devil's black sheep daughter walks into his life, Justin takes note. A lot has changed in the years following Trevon and Dracula's reshaping of Wapa Lake, WI and his becoming the godfather of little Anya Beaumont...but a lot has also stayed the same. On their first date, they hit it off. Evie reveals her desire to learn magic from Dracula and the fact that she has gotten a job as Anya's nanny. Justin shares the fact that there are gaps in his family history he longs to understand.

Inked by a monster—sounds cool, right? Until the guy accidentally imprinted on me. What was supposed to be a birthday gift to myself backfired in my face. How was I to know when I told him "Surprise me" that the fine-ass monster man would somehow embed his essence into my tattoo? Or that I'd come from his skilled fingers tapping a needle full of ink into my back? Now, ever since my tat-gasm, the guy follows me like a love-sick puppy… Intriguing me. Idolizing me. Impaling me. But I don't do insta-love, no matter how hot the s-e-x is.