By the Horns: A Fantasy Rom Com (Fantasy Flatmates Book 1)

By the HornsFantasy Flatmates Book 1Jemma Croft Copyright © 2023 Jemma CroftAll rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without prior permission from the author. Short quotes may be used as part of promotion or reviews.To chat to me about permission please email me [email protected] is a work of fiction. Obviously. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.If you bear more than a striking resemblance to the MMC, I am going to need photographic evidence. For all miserable, sullen libras everywhere. Especially my husband. Contents Title PageCopyrightDedicationA note from the authorChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38Chapter 39Chapter 40The EndComing Soon ...By the FaeAbout The Author A note from the authorI have really loved writing this book. It has been my catharsis over a few pretty shitty years, I’ll spare the details. I hope you enjoy reading it, but I also want you to feel safe in the knowledge you won’t stumble on something that isn’t right for you.With that in mind, here are a list of content/trigger warnings.Explicit scenes of a sexual natureProfanityMild threat of violenceThemes of discriminationCasual drug useAlso, please note this book is written in British English, please do not give me a bad review because I’m generous with the U’s. Cheers, mate. Chapter 1JoeyEvery course at The University of Remy began at nine pm sharp, on account of all the vampires.And no, he wasn’t a vampire.Thank the gods for small mercies.The dash clock read nine-fifteen. My foot nudged at the gas. The muscles, not used to holding back, sent cramps up the length of my calf. It was like fighting to keep two magnets from snapping together. Sweat beaded at my temples. My armpits, for want of a better word, gushed. I felt sorry for the poor chump who’d end up seated next to me in class.Either I could be late on my first day or risk another ticket. Considering I was due to start a course titled Compulsory Corrective Control for Apprehended Acceleration Addicts, it was a no-brainer. Long story short, I’d been caught speeding at least eight times too many, and if I didn’t pass this bloody course, they would impound Little Red and remove my license. And if I didn’t have a car or a license, I didn’t have a job, and I’d have no way to pay Hell-Bitch Christie the multiple back payments of rent I owed her, and she’d kick me out of her flat.And call me old-fashioned, but I rather liked having a roof over my head while I slept. Not to mention the snuggles from Hell-Bitch’s adorable ginger tomcat, Ludo.At nine-twenty I pulled into the carpark, sweating more, if possible. At nine-twenty-two I collided into the university’s reception desk and the leaflet stand, party-cannoning approximately eleventy-thousand pamphlets around the cathedral-like entrance hall.“Miss Joey”—gasp—“Silver. Here to start”—gasp—“speed school,” I said between thumping down handfuls of ‘Apply for a Student Loan in Three Simple Steps’, and ‘Mo’ Magic, Mo’ Problems: Why UR Doesn’t Allow Any Weapons on Campus’, and ‘Pound A Pint Nite at Tallywhacker’s’ onto the counter-top. I massaged the stitch developing in my side.The receptionist, an ethereally beautiful, thirty-something merman with skin made of sunshine and hair the colour of a rose chafer, assessed me over the top of his yellow plastic spectacles. He sucked at his teeth and proceeded to spew a heck-ton of directions at me. “Right-down-the-corridor-first-left-second-floor-second-right-left-again-round-the-bend-room-number-should-be-forty-six-F.”Having registered only the first and last words, and nothing in between, I said, “Ha, that’s my bra-size.” To which he did not laugh, didn’t even raise an eyebrow. How Mermish of him. I scooped up the remaining debris as nonchalantly as possible and made my way further into UR’s intestines.Another ten minutes, and I was ready to send for a search party. I didn’t remember any of the merman’s words being elevator, yet every single corridor I turned down ended with a set of elevators. I was about to give up, shoot up a flare or smash the fire alarm and let myself become swept out with the rush of bodies, when I spotted the room.There it was. Room number thirty-six-F. Same as the girls.I knocked on the door and smoothed down my strappy red summer dress. Chosen specifically for today because, of all my strappy red summer dresses, this one was the most mature, most capable, least . . . cleavagey. Even if it did have tiny, embroidered peaches all over it.Wait.It was thirty-six-F, right?The door opened inwards, and framed in the jamb stood a creature with a man’s body — gleaming ebony six-pack, threaded muscular arms, and a cotton-soft white kilt — and the head of a falcon — curved golden beak, black-rimmed eyes, and a plume of navy feathers fanning from his brow ending around the middle of his back.“New girl?” he said, his cadence unexpectedly smooth and warm. He sounded like the man that did voice-overs for movie trailers. It was the voice of someone with decades, centuries even, of seniority. It was the voice of omnipotence and exorbitantly expensive education, and maybe a cartoon unicorn I remembered from a kids’ programme I used to watch.I shook the thought from my head. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I was really trying to keep to the speed limit—Below the speed limit, actually. Well below it. There were, like, all these red lights. And—”“Okay, kid. Let’s take a quick breather, shall we? Name?”“Joey Silver.”“Human?”I nodded.Never assume someone’s species. Borderlands’ rule number one. Though sometimes assumption wasn’t necessary. Take, for example, the fae with their pointy ears, or the sirens and their clacky bird feet, or the werewolves and their moon worshiping and general wet dog stink. In my