Page 1 of Monster Mate

CHAPTER 1

He was going to force her to break his arm.

That wasn’t hyperbole, either. She’d do it.

After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Roxie Rowe set her tray of champagne flutes on the bar to keep from spilling them as her boss made another not-so-subtle grab for her ass. She bared her teeth at the bastard and snarled, “The next time you touch me, you’ll lose a fucking hand.”

The gargoyle snorted.

That wasn’t hyperbole, either. He really was a gargoyle. Here in Sanity Falls, monsters were welcome. Even assholes like Carl, the walking sexual harassment lawsuit.

“Oh, don’t be so sensitive. You should lighten up and smile more, Rox,” Carl said, reaching down to adjust his dick in his trousers, not even trying to be discrete.

That did it. She was never working another bartending gig at a Monster Match speed dating event.

See, the thing no one ever mentioned about monsters was how horny they were. It seemed like half the creatures who showed up at one of these events hadn’t gotten laid in eons (literal eons for some of them), and if none of the human women who’d signed up to date a monster wanted them, they were perfectly happy to hit on the wait staff.

So far tonight, she’d been grabbed by a gargoyle, propositioned by a pseudo-dragon, and flashed by a fachan.

Roxie shuddered. She’d probably have nightmares for the rest of her life about that last one.

But she decided to set her emotional trauma aside for the moment, because it was time to quit yet another dead-end job. It didn’t matter that her rent was due. It didn’t matter that her car was running on fumes. It didn’t matter that she had less than $30 in her bank account, no food in her fridge, and two dependents waiting on her at home.

She’d get a new job. If there was one thing she’d learned over her thirty-two years on this craphole planet, it was that you couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting a dozen crappy minimum wage jobs.

So, with as much dramatic flourish as she could muster, she whipped off her apron, tossed it in Carl’s fat face, and said, “I fucking quit.” Then she gave him her biggest, craziest, feral smile (he had suggested she smile more, after all) and flipped him the bird while he angrily sputtered and threatened to withhold her paycheck for the night.

She snorted. Right. Like he was ever going to pay her after she threatened him. That paycheck was long gone.

The one thing she’d miss from these events was the venue. The Spellman manor looked like the set of a Jane Austen novel movie adaptation. And not a cheap one. Like, a high-end adaptation on Netflix, not some CW Network crapfest. There was probably a picture of this manor next to the word “dramatic” in the dictionary.

Other than the parlor where the speed dating event was being held, Roxie had only seen the kitchen (which looked like Gordon Ramsay had personally selected every utensil and appliance) and powder room (which had a richly colored, patterned wallpaper that probably cost more than her car), but it was more than enough for her to fall in love with the place.

She’d live and die in that powder room if the owners would let her.

“Psssttt!”

At first, Roxie didn’t think too much of the sound coming from the nook under the grand staircase. There were at least a dozen half-snake monsters in attendance tonight. But when it was accompanied by a tiny hand (a human hand), peeking out of the shadows and gesturing to her, she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Cautiously, she inched toward the nook, but relaxed when a short woman with pale green eyes and a mass of ginger-speckled dark curls stepped out. This person wasn’t a threat to her.

Roxie wasn’t proud of the fact that she tended to size people up and evaluate them at a glance based on whether she could take them in a fight. But she did. Foster care (and her recent dating history) made sure of that.

“Hi, I’m Lucy. My husband owns this place.”

A growl that raised the hair on the back of Roxie’s neck crawled out of the shadows. Lucy rolled her eyes. “My husband and I own this place,” she corrected.

OK, so maybe Lucy wasn’t harmless, after all. Clearly, she was married to an angry bear. Great. “I’m Roxie. Nice place you have here.”

Lucy sighed dreamily. “Yeah. It’s awesome. But I didn’t call you over here to brag. I saw what was going on at the bar.”

Ugh. Now she was probably going to get sued or something for wrecking their event. “I…apologize for not finishing the night. I hope your guests will understand.”

“Oh, honey, no. We’re not mad. We’re impressed you didn’t hit him!” Lucy laughed and dug a wad of cash out of her skirt pocket. “I figured he was going to stiff you, so I emptied the tip jar when he wasn’t looking. And I’ll make sure the rest of the staff gets tipped out of that asshat’s salary. He’ll never work here again, I promise you.”

“Wow.” Roxie took the cash and stuffed it into her pocket, fighting the urge to sniffle. Unexpected kindness from strangers always got her a little misty. “Thank you so much. This will really help me. I appreciate it.”

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