Romance: Chosen By Her Bear: A BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance Standalone by Ashley Hunter
Authors: Ashley Hunter
I.
Why oh why didn’t you, Ava Williams, look that boy in the eye, you stupid girl.
I had to mentally chide myself every time after such an episode (one would think that I would get used to it by now, but no). What would be that librarian thinking about right now? Probably not me.
For a bright few moments, he and I were the only two souls in the universe; that is until the stupid woman behind me suddenly decided that she was running late for her weekly Wednesday gym class or something. I would have argued had I not been myself in need of a gym class. Sigh.
Anyway, this has been my problem as far back as I can remember. Not born with superhuman looks nor inclined to induce anorexia to get a body suitable for a Victoria’s Secret model, I was always on the heavier side and that is where problems started with my love life.
Nonexistent as it is. I recently passed through college without as much as a boyfriend to my name. If my grandmother had to be believed, and it is extremely dubious that she is, it is your curves, honey.
I can’t bring myself to tell my dear Grammy that it is 2015. But maybe she has a point. What do I know? I am 24 years old and without a lover. There are not many who can boast that. There are not many who would call it boasting.
Ironically enough I have always been confident in my life, knowing what I wanted and who I wanted. It was going after who I wanted that was the difficult part.
My curves always made it difficult to maneuver boys like other girls did, wrapping them up around their bony fingers. As for me, I have always been crippled with the fear that nobody would be interested in me, just because.
In principle I knew that the world should be a judgment free zone and I should embrace who I am, but damned if the real world worked like that. Everybody likes to dole out principles and paste them on their cars as bumper sticks; living them, that’s a whole different ball game.
No matter what everybody said, which ranged from looks don’t matter to find someone who loves you for your mind, and not your body, I had never been able to get the confidence to move beyond a certain wall to reach a point where a guy actually fell for my brains.
I know. So very Jane Austen.
Anyhow, this is the sum of it: I am a 24 year old graduate (think of Dustin Hoffman, only female and thirty pounds heavier. OK, don’t think of Dustin Hoffman), no men in sight and the weight of loneliness on my still young shoulders, pressing me down.
Couldn’t a knight in shining armor come along? I shouldn’t think like that. Women don’t need knights anymore. But I need a relationship. No, not need. I want a relationship. Is it too much to ask? Does pining for it make me a villain for my gender? Where’s my John Wayne or Humphrey Bogart? Hell, where’s my Raylan Givens?
Maybe I should not be thinking about fictional characters.
Reality is stranger than fiction and I had always lived by that rule. But nothing in my life had happened that proved this axiom. That didn’t stop me from believing in it, but I had to agree that the strength of my conviction was waning, as is if often the case when you keep waiting for moments that never come.
What happened in the next few weeks is beyond strange. I should never have doubted it.
This is the story of what happened.
II.
The Beginning
It was a dark and rainy night. It really was, I am not stating a cliché of noirs. Thor must be having one hell of a party.
I had been held back at my office due to a sudden crisis in the Middle East. I worked for a political think tank and due to the uncertain global condition; our work hours usually didn’t limit themselves to Pacific Standard Time.
I had my umbrella open but it wasn’t doing much good. The rain seemed to be coming in from all four directions; the wind sure wasn’t helping. There were no taxis to be found and it wasn’t a surprise.
Who would be willing to risk driving in weather like this? I kept on
Why oh why didn’t you, Ava Williams, look that boy in the eye, you stupid girl.
I had to mentally chide myself every time after such an episode (one would think that I would get used to it by now, but no). What would be that librarian thinking about right now? Probably not me.
For a bright few moments, he and I were the only two souls in the universe; that is until the stupid woman behind me suddenly decided that she was running late for her weekly Wednesday gym class or something. I would have argued had I not been myself in need of a gym class. Sigh.
Anyway, this has been my problem as far back as I can remember. Not born with superhuman looks nor inclined to induce anorexia to get a body suitable for a Victoria’s Secret model, I was always on the heavier side and that is where problems started with my love life.
Nonexistent as it is. I recently passed through college without as much as a boyfriend to my name. If my grandmother had to be believed, and it is extremely dubious that she is, it is your curves, honey.
I can’t bring myself to tell my dear Grammy that it is 2015. But maybe she has a point. What do I know? I am 24 years old and without a lover. There are not many who can boast that. There are not many who would call it boasting.
Ironically enough I have always been confident in my life, knowing what I wanted and who I wanted. It was going after who I wanted that was the difficult part.
My curves always made it difficult to maneuver boys like other girls did, wrapping them up around their bony fingers. As for me, I have always been crippled with the fear that nobody would be interested in me, just because.
In principle I knew that the world should be a judgment free zone and I should embrace who I am, but damned if the real world worked like that. Everybody likes to dole out principles and paste them on their cars as bumper sticks; living them, that’s a whole different ball game.
No matter what everybody said, which ranged from looks don’t matter to find someone who loves you for your mind, and not your body, I had never been able to get the confidence to move beyond a certain wall to reach a point where a guy actually fell for my brains.
I know. So very Jane Austen.
Anyhow, this is the sum of it: I am a 24 year old graduate (think of Dustin Hoffman, only female and thirty pounds heavier. OK, don’t think of Dustin Hoffman), no men in sight and the weight of loneliness on my still young shoulders, pressing me down.
Couldn’t a knight in shining armor come along? I shouldn’t think like that. Women don’t need knights anymore. But I need a relationship. No, not need. I want a relationship. Is it too much to ask? Does pining for it make me a villain for my gender? Where’s my John Wayne or Humphrey Bogart? Hell, where’s my Raylan Givens?
Maybe I should not be thinking about fictional characters.
Reality is stranger than fiction and I had always lived by that rule. But nothing in my life had happened that proved this axiom. That didn’t stop me from believing in it, but I had to agree that the strength of my conviction was waning, as is if often the case when you keep waiting for moments that never come.
What happened in the next few weeks is beyond strange. I should never have doubted it.
This is the story of what happened.
II.
The Beginning
It was a dark and rainy night. It really was, I am not stating a cliché of noirs. Thor must be having one hell of a party.
I had been held back at my office due to a sudden crisis in the Middle East. I worked for a political think tank and due to the uncertain global condition; our work hours usually didn’t limit themselves to Pacific Standard Time.
I had my umbrella open but it wasn’t doing much good. The rain seemed to be coming in from all four directions; the wind sure wasn’t helping. There were no taxis to be found and it wasn’t a surprise.
Who would be willing to risk driving in weather like this? I kept on
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