Disappointed in the Web of Promises
The Mabon Feast by C.M. Nascosta promised monster romance, spider smut, and a bit of delicious autumnal darkness. What I got instead was a slow-paced domestic slice-of-life with a love interest who’s more absent than present — and not in the mysterious, brooding way. More like... did the spider get lost in the drywall?
The blurb paints a picture of an outcast witch and a mysterious spider-folk tenant, implying tension, shadowy encounters, and maybe some eight-legged spice. Unfortunately, the only real darkness here is the one that fell over my brain while reading endless descriptions of Ladybug's melancholic domestic routine.
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Let's talk about Ladybug — our FMC, who’s neurodivergent, which felt more like a buzzword checkbox than meaningful characterization. Her struggles are valid, sure, but the execution was flat, repetitive, and emotionally uninspired. The narrative seems to rely heavily on vibes and vibes alone, forgetting that even cozy, character-driven novellas need momentum and emotional payoff.
Now, onto our elusive spider-man: for a book supposedly centered around his arrival and presence, he barely gets any page time. He skitters in and out of scenes like a cryptid leaving Post-it notes, and when the smut finally arrives (and I use that term generously), it’s more of a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it interlude than the spicy climax we were promised. Tagging this as erotica feels like false advertising. There are Ikea instruction manuals with more heat.
Ultimately, The Mabon Feast left me cold, underwhelmed, and skipping paragraphs in hopes that something would eventually happen. It didn’t. If you're looking for monster romance with depth, plot, or even just some decent monster-ing — this one’s a miss.
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