Gloria was spending the evening as she spent most evenings, gazing adoringly at Moon-moon, her sexy brainiac werewolf boyfriend. She wasn't sure what turned her on about him most. His body was any woman's wet dream, all tall and sinewy. Lots of rolling muscles tucked under velvety smooth light skin, and toffee colored hair that was always shaggy and messy, making her think he'd just rolled out of bed and wouldn't mind taking her back into his bed to play. She'd be lying, though, if she didn't admit to being totally seduced by his exceptional brain. He was both a friggin' genius with anything electronic--literally--and he had a very sophisticated sense of humor most people were too full of themselves to understand. He was playful, finding joy in every moment. And then there was the thrill of danger. Hello, he was a wolf!
The only thing she didn't understand about him was what he saw in her. She was a short, thin little weregoose. Not a mongoose or an eagle or any other fierce, noble animal. A goose. Her hair was the same odd brownish-gray of her feathers, and so fly-away that the only hairstyle that worked with it was a long, layered shag cut reminiscent of Goldie Hawn circa nineteen seventy-one. Except not in pretty blond. Sure, her chest was seriously built, but that was a common feature of all avian shape shifters. Seriously built chests look a lot better on men than women, in her opinion. On her, it made her look like bubble-boob Barbie, the stuff of pre-teen boy fantasies and pervs.
She wasn't even all that smart. She graduated high school last year with a 4.0 GPA mainly through slavish study habits and careful consideration to her class selections. Now that she was in college, her lack of natural scholastic talent was becoming painfully obvious. She sighed and forced herself to get back to her writing assignment. Why she'd chosen Modern Creative Writing 101 was a mystery.
No, that wasn't true. She knew why she chose it. Being able to tell people that she was a writer had seemed so smart and sophisticated, someone worthy of Brian's love and attention. She may not be able to keep up with an electrical engineer like Brian when it came to science, but writers were known to be very cerebral people. Then she made the mistake of believing her professor when he said they could pick any genre they wanted for their semester writing project. They had until Thanksgiving to hand in an original rough draft of a novel length book. She'd chosen romance. Apparently, romance was not a respected genre in literary circles.
She could have changed her genre. Professor Greene did offer to let her do so after he handed her the composite genre tip sheet for romance, which she was expected to follow, when he saw the look on her face after reading it. She might have accepted his offer had he not used a disparaging attitude. She was a goose, damn it. No one could out stubborn a goose with her feathers up! She was going to write the best goddamn romance novel ever!