Free Make Mine A Monster: Monsterotica: Book 2 by Madison Sevier Page B

around waiting for Prince Charming to gallop in on his white steed or Sir Galahad to rumble into town on an iron horse. That's not me. I'm not some princess in an ivory tower. Keep your bikers, billionaires and cowboys. Make mine a monster."
    Melanie looked her in the eye, "I can't believe I'm even considering letting you go. Do you know h ave any idea how much trouble I could get into if the main office finds out?"
    "I know self- defense now. I've got guns, a crossbow and I'm trained to use knives as a last resort. I'll be fine. Honestly, I think you and I both know that I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."
    And I didn't.
    Chapter Two
    Two weeks later, I was shopping and packing for my first adventure since meeting Nessiana . Living about forty-five minutes from a major city has its benefits, but it also has its downfalls. For instance, how many women have you met that actually take red, satin sheets on a camping trip? I believe in being prepared and just because I planned on camping, didn't mean I had to be miserable. I was able to locate the run-of-the-mill camping gear close to home at the DuFour General Store—yes, we still have small, locally owned stores in the south and after countless trips to the more 'upscale' stores in Indianapolis, I was fully stocked with camping and glamping gear for the first leg of my trip. I was ready to roll.
    Getting to Hopkinsville was going to be easy. I'd traded my old car in and bought a four-wheel-drive Chevy pickup. Being the sensible woman I am, I chose a bright color that could be spotted easily should something go wrong. My new baby was metallic red, complete with custom chrome accents and equipped with all of the bells and whistles—even a gun rack and custom Bose sound system with XM radio. I'd put myself in deep debt with a large payment, but I held fast to the hope that my stories would sell and I'd be able to stay afloat.
    Armed with everything I'd need for the trip, I left DuFour at six in the morning. Traffic was light, aside from the few farmers and Amish buggies I'd passed on the outskirts of town. Once I hit 71-South, I merged into traffic on 264-South out of Louisville to 65- South and it was smooth sailing for quite a while. Passing through Shepherdsville and Elizabethtown was a breeze as I followed the route onto 62-West.
    By the time I passed through Leitchfield, I'd been on the road for over three hours. I'd packed a cooler and snacks, so there hadn't been any need to stop off at any of the welcome centers or rest areas along the way until then. After a quick bathroom break, I was back on the road.
    Driving the rest of the way, I thought about the information I'd gathered before leaving. The town I was headed to was famous for the 'Little Green Men Festival' which was held once a year. In 1955 a local family claimed to have been harassed by, you guessed it, little green men and the entire event lasted all night. Some people believed most of the eleven witnesses, others said they were drunk or had gotten into some contaminated well water.
    Were they goblins? Trolls? No one could really say for sure. The only information I'd found thus far had been what my boss Melanie had told me and the snippets I'd gathered from the many articles I'd found online. Everyone who was interviewed on that sultry August night, had a different version of events. One claimed they'd seen a UFO, another believed the invaders were creatures from Hell. Either way, I was going to find out everything I could about these supposed visitors.
    I arrived in Hopkinsville to find the town lively at such an early hour in the morning. People milling about in an almost frenzied state and there were noticeably few parking spots. At first glance, it resembled any other southern town with its flag-lined streets, flowers boxes and plant-filled pots perfectly plotted along the sidewalks lining Main Street. Upon closer inspection, I noticed many of the townspeople were in costume. Some were dressed as aliens