Camilla Evergreen

For five long years, I didn't know my cat could turn into a vampire. That means I've spent five long years squishing little black toe beans, participating in all-night cuddles, and calling a full-grown man my itty bitty stinky kitty baby.

Is it rational to hate my billionaire boss because he's too nice? Maybe not. However, it's definitely rational to apply to become a billionaire stranger's housewife so I can quit being a personal assistant.

Be careful what you write on a Taco Bell napkin in high school. Committing to a marriage pact beside a Mild sauce stain normally isn't contractually binding.

When Alexios Vox appears on my doorstep looking like the butler lead in a popular anime, the last thing I expect is for him to invite me into the Villain Protection Program.

When my chihuahua turns into my celebrity crush, it's like a fanfiction come to life. Not my fanfiction, mind you. I could never write the Doliver Talon eating dog food, submitting himself to tiny costumes, or gnawing on chicken feet under my bed without his millions of fangirls going feral.

He's the current bane of my existence… and the hot monster haunting my dreams. Maybe if he weren't also the single father of one of my students, I'd be okay with the evening jaunts into the skankier parts of my subconscious, even though nothing ever goes anywhere.

All I've ever wanted is to live in a fantasy world, and, yes, I am willing to sell my soul to a moth faerie prince to make that happen. Which is perfect because after I've accidentally, maybe, kinda, sorta hit one with my car, that's exactly what he asks for.