The Menopause Grimoire

She moved to the woods to disappear. Something ancient was already there—and it saw her.

Josie Jordan, 42, has done the math. Sold the salon she built from nothing. Finalized the divorce that was ten years overdue. Bought a house in the Appalachian woods with the last of her money and a clock ticking on every dollar. She's not having a breakdown. She's starting over. She walks the woods every day because it's free and it's the only thing that makes her brain shut up about the bank account.

Then she meets a man on the trail. Quiet. Formal. Slightly odd. He fixes her roof without being asked. Mows the lawn. Fells a dead tree. She flirts. He doesn't notice. She drops every hint short of a neon sign. Nothing.

She finally snaps: "I'm literally prepared to strip naked and let my libido breakdance on the floor."

That's when he tells her the truth.

Tarn is not a shy neighbor. He's not a hermit. He's something that was old when these mountains were young—and these are the oldest mountains on the continent. He hasn't been seen by anyone in longer than human civilization has existed. He didn't know she was flirting because he forgot flirting was a thing. He was helping because that's what he does. He tends things. Her roof needed fixing.

She's the first person to look at him in longer than her species has been alive.

Now she's dating an invisible boyfriend. She talks to an empty chair at the diner. The town thinks she's lost it. Her best friend is driving three hours to stage an intervention. And the creep at the salon who won't take no for an answer has just learned where she lives.

But the ancient thing in her woods tends what it loves. And what it loves, nothing on this earth can touch.

Nobody Sees My Boyfriend is a paranormal romantic comedy an ancient non-human hero, a heroine in perimenopause who is done apologizing for existing, weaponized birds, one terrifying display of arboreal justice, and an HEA that will make you laugh and then ugly-cry into your wine.