Long Live the Short Kings by Marilyn Barr

 With the rise of monster romance, the trope of accommodating size differences has taken center stage. Male monsters carry their human female mates for hundreds of pages without tiring, thanks to their “biceps as large as my waist.” While the instant transportation is a bonus, I’ve experienced many of the downfalls of such a tall partner—not because I dated monsters but because I’m barely 4’10” tall. According to car seat manufacturers, I should sit in the back in a booster seat. A guy who is 5’10” is shorter than the average love interest but over a foot taller than me.

     

Warning: I climb counters, shelves, and grocery store displays without fear!

My son’s almost hit his teens and he’s 5’0.” The other boys his age tower over him at school. Therefore, my household is designed for short people. Stools or ladders are in every closet. The top shelves are used for holiday décor and niche appliances. How does my spouse survive in our Munchkin Palace?

He’s 5’6.”

You may envision Price Farquaad from Shrek, but our height differential is eight inches. Can I tilt my chin upwards yearning to receive his kiss? Does he bend down to capture my lips in a moment of passion? Yes—but we stand below the middle shelves.

Do men of this height exist in romance? I set out on a mission and found them in the bookstagram community. The ‘Short Kings’ are romance heroes who are less than 5’8.” I was ecstatic to find representation for men like the one my son will grow up to be. Hopefully, his future partner is somewhere devouring these books.

To contribute to this community, I decided to write the happily ever after for my favorite character from my Walk the Walk pirate romance series—Chub. No, his nickname isn’t a slam on his weight. He had a problem as a young teen when he joined Hornigold’s crew and was introduced to doxies and wenches…and his hearties never let him live it down (pun intended.) Chub is the brains of the boat and the most sought-after Quartermaster on the 1721 high seas. His fearsome reputation comes from managing crews under legends like Hornigold, Blackbeard, William Mace, and Branko…at 5’3” tall.

My next question was whether to create a tiny love interest for him. While I had the spider-weaving lady, Catalina Pintarro, talking in my head, how tall should she be? I’ve already written an ode to short couples in my debut novel, Bear with Me, so I wanted to branch out…err…up. Catalina’s 5’8” and smitten with her short king. As a self-proclaimed ‘dairy-chaser,’ Chub is happy to be eye-level with the buttons on her blouse….as in this scene from Quartermaster:

The music slows, and I circle her like a vulture. My hearties laugh and catcall as if I’m hunting on their behalf. Their assumptions couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m watching her body language for clues on how to proceed without hurting her. A smirk plays upon her lips like she’s playing the game, but the corner of her left eye has a twitch that I would miss, had I not studied her. She rubs the leather cuff on her right wrist as if suffering from a rope burn.

I run my fingertip down her arm, and she shivers. Either she desires me to the point of losing control—which I doubt with this audience—or she’s covering a flinch at my touch. My fingertip climbs her other arm and across her shoulders. The flinch is unmistakable as her shoulders shimmy. No proper lady would make such a move on the deck of a pirate ship. All attention has moved from me to her swinging dairy.

I hope she will appreciate the change in the crowd’s mood enough to forgive my crassness. “A lady with such bounce can’t dance to your sour dirge. Give us a jig with some life to it!”

The crew shows their agreement with boisterous applause and cheers. Catty blushes a delicate pink, but breathes a sigh of relief when I stand beside her instead of in front of her. Someday, I hope to grind my hips against hers in a sultry island dance, but not when she’s trembling under my palms. My lady love’s comfort is my ultimate desire, even if it means dancing with a mast shoved into me breeches.

“I would never soil the honor of your presence by taking advantage of your sweet nature, my lady,” I whisper onto her shoulder. The top of my head is at her eye level. To whisper in her ear, I’d have to crowd her space on my tiptoes.

“For your observant and kind nature, I am most grateful,” she replies, so quietly that I must read her lips. The secret smile we share is one I will tuck into my heart for my darkest of days.

The music kicks up to a lively three-quarter tune. I hop on my toes in traditional Irish fashion and glare at anyone who points out my authenticity. After a few rounds of eight counts, Catty follows my footwork. We are bouncing and laughing while our audience claps along. I weave my footwork into her space and out again. The movements bring our bodies close for mere seconds before leading us apart like a delicious tease. With her hands unfettered, she can shove me away or swat at my antics. Instead, I collect shy smiles, flirty eyelash flutters, and eyefuls of bouncing dairy.

I bet this is what heaven is like.

Today is the last day to preorder Quartermaster for 99c. Our ship leaves the docks tomorrow!

https://www.amazon.com/Quartermaster-Paranormal-Adventure-Marilyn-Barr-ebook/dp/B0BRWRPDBF/

 It is only a matter of time before female monsters hit the romance book market (hint, hint.) Will these monster brides carry their human short kings? I’ll let you know…shhhhh.