Drop Dead Single (Monstrana Paranormal Romance 1)

Molodoy wouldn’t intimidate her. She had this in the bag.

“Perfect.” The vampiress sidled over to her office door and paused a moment, glancing over her shoulder. “This is a once in a lifetime interview, Stasia. I’ve never heard of an alpha leaving his pack, except in a change of leadership. There’s a story here. Something dark and compelling. I can feel it in my undead heart. Find the dirt.”

“Absolutely.” She crumbled the paper in her hand. “I won’t let you down, Myra.”

“I know, my dear.” A smile tugged at one corner of her blood-red lips. “That’s why I put my neck on the line for you. Forgive the pun, but I’m confident you’ll sniff out this story.”

As soon as lithe woman disappeared into her office, Stasia pumped her fist high in the air and mouthed a silent hurrah. Feeling the weight of a dozen pairs of eyes, she turned on her heel to discover the entire floor staring at her. She pushed her hair out of her face and she gave them a dazzling wolfish smile. Nothing could get her down today. She was on her way.

Chapter Two

Billy Finley rounded the doors to his garage and cursed at the mutilated hunk of metal and chrome leaking oil on his driveway. The teenager who’d driven this once beautiful truck into the ground should’ve been strung up naked in the middle of the woods by his ankles. He would make a perfect meal for the enchanted swarm of giant mosquitoes that escaped from an illegal magical trading shop just a village over last month.

That would serve him right.

He whistled low and gave the Nissan Titan pickup one slow circle and then looked down at the invoice order in his hands. The teenager’s dad was a rich man who didn’t seem to think twice about putting such a luxurious and expensive vehicle in the hands of his reckless son.

Still, Billy couldn’t complain. This was going to be a big job. He needed the business. And he needed the cash.

“Sorry, old girl,” he said, patting the truck on what remained of its hood, “but you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow morning. It’s quitting time.”

Right then, he wanted nothing more than to ramble on over to his one bedroom house attached to the garage, open the fridge, and press his lips to the mouth of an ice cold long-necked bottle. It was how he ended most days now. Quiet and alone. So unlike his year spent in America, preparing for the role as alpha of a diminishing werewolf pack. But that felt like a lifetime ago and it was a life he preferred to forget.

“Yoo-hoo!”

Billy’s whole body cringed when he heard the customary greeting of Madge, the town witch. She was as old as the hills and looked even older. He turned slowly to see her scuttling up the drive, a black shawl hanging from her bony arms and a long skirt tugged up over her massive belly. She paused for a moment to catch her breath, pressing a hand to her backside, and then called to him again.

“Billy Finley, I really must engage your services,” she croaked.

He resisted the urge to roll his green eyes and instead bit the inside of his cheek. “Yes, ma’am. What is it this time? Need help unloading the groceries? Can’t reach the mixing bowl?”

She swatted a hand through the air. “No

, I have another very particular request. If you could invite me into your home, I will explain.”

He bit back a sigh and set down his clipboard. When he’d moved back home to Molodoy last month, he hadn’t intended on becoming the witch’s neighborly gopher boy, but old man Rick had just put his garage up for sale and Billy couldn’t turn down that deal. It had been the fresh start he needed. Just good old-fashioned hard work and no alpha duties. With a side of witchy interference.

“Come on in, Madge.” He lumbered toward the side door and held it open for her.

She stood at half his height with loose, wispy hair and more wrinkles on her face than his dress shirts stuffed in the dark reaches of his closet. Making a beeline for his two-person dining table, she used her elbow to sweep off the piles of old crinkled newspapers and waggled her fingers over the wooden surface. A worn book with plastic ring binding appeared out of thin air.

“Now, then.” She licked the tip of one crooked finger and began to flip through the pages. “I have just been informed that Mary Wirtz has returned home to Molodoy. She just purchased that yellow shuttered home across from the gas station.”

He raised one eyebrow at her and migrated toward the fridge. “Yes...does she need some work done? I noticed last week when I drove by the vinyl siding is cracked on the north side.”

“No, no, no.” She waved her hand and squinted at him. Her gray eyes looked him over from top to bottom, as if scrutinizing his greasy cut off t-shirt, jeans, and work boots. “You’re what, about thirty-five years of age? And a little over six foot tall?”

Six foot three to be exact, but he didn’t correct her. “That’s right...” He popped open the fridge and pulled out two bottles. “Drink?”

She waved a dismissive hand. So he put one back, screwed off the top on the other, and pressed the bottle’s mouth to his lips.

“Well, your previous engagement is a bit of a bump in the road,” Madge continued, looking down at the scrawlings in her book, “but I’m sure Mary will still have you. All she requires is a werewolf of less than forty years with a proven track record of employment. The fact that you own your own business should be a bonus.”

Billy spat out his drink and stared wide-eyed at the little witch. He’d heard rumors that Madge fancied herself the village matchmaker, but surely, she wasn’t trying to set him up. The last thing he needed was the drama of a relationship. He preferred his solitude. No girlfriend, no pack, no problem.

“Wait just a minute...” he began once he could find his tongue again.

“But of course, your cleaning skills leave much to desire.” Madge spoke right over him and swept the room with her critical gaze, paying particular attention to the collection of empty shopping bags on one side of the couch and the overflowing trash can next to the sink. “You’d have to join the local werewolf pack. There’s also the matter of personal grooming. We can’t deny that you lack in that necessary area.”