Grumpy, growly wyverns don't deserve true love-or do they? I've worked hard to accept what happened after I sipped that strange brew and turned into a wyvern. Scaly skin? It protects me from the weather. Wings? Flying's cool. And the claws on my thumbs make it easier to craft chainsaw wood sculptures. But then Nettie, a too-adorable woman with curves that go on forever and long hair the color of the sunset, arrives on my doorstep. She insists we were married by proxy. Thanks for asking me to sign those papers, Mom. When a freakish storm hits the area, we're stuck together trying to figure this out. Did I mention my log cabin only has one bed? My lonely heart keeps insisting I should keep her, but what woman wants to be a wyvern's bride?
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