Immortal matchmakers inc.., p.1

Immortal Matchmakers, Inc., page 1

 

Immortal Matchmakers, Inc.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Larger Font   Reset Font Size   Smaller Font   Night Mode Off   Night Mode

Immortal Matchmakers, Inc.


  SHE PRESSED HER EAR TO THE DOOR…

  Groan.

  The sound was deep and throaty, almost like the sound of a man…well, getting off.

  She cupped her hands over her mouth. I can’t believe this guy. The clock was ticking and it was really rude to keep someone waiting so he could wank it.

  She gave the door another hard knock. “Listen, buddy, if you’re doing anything but dying, you’d better open this door, or I’m leaving. And I’m pretty sure you don’t want that.”

  The man groaned again, but this time the sound was so deep and hard, it sent shivers up her spine and down to her nether region. His voice was just so damned sexy.

  What? Sadie, what’s wrong with you?

  “Oh. Come on, buddy!” Knock. Knock. Knock. “Can’t you do that later?”

  She suddenly heard some rustling and then the sound of something large thumping on the floor. The door flew open and a huge man, wearing partially unzipped leather pants, stood panting in the doorway, no underwear, his pants barely holding to his hips and slung low on his muscular torso. She could see a dark patch of hair and the base of his cock, which looked hard as hell, straining against the inside of his pants.

  She gulped. The man was hung.

  Her eyes moved up over the snug fabric of his black T-shirt, the muscles of his chest and arms stretching it to its limits. She was sure this guy was some sort of weight lifter or martial arts enthusiast. Or the next Thor. Just like Bob had said.

  When her eyes finally got to his face, two intense turquoise eyes burned right through her, stopping her breath for several heartbeats until her brain registered the fact that it was the same face who’d visited her the last two evenings in two unwelcome, very erotic dreams.

  “So we meet again, meat wench.” His sinful lips flashed a smug little smile. “Why am I not surprised to see you here begging for more?”

  IMMORTAL

  MATCHMAKERS, INC.

  book 1

  Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  a Mimi Boutique Novel

  OTHER WORKS BY MIMI JEAN PAMFILOFF:

  FATE BOOK (New Adult Suspense/Humor)

  FATE BOOK TWO (New Adult Suspense/Humor)

  THE HAPPY PANTS CAFÉ (Prequel/Romantic Comedy)

  THE KING TRILOGY (Dark Fantasy)

  King’s (Book 1)

  King for a Day (Book 2)

  King of Me (Book 3)

  THE MERMEN TRILOGY (Dark Fantasy)

  Mermen (Book 1)

  MerMadmen (Book 2)

  THE ACCIDENTALLY YOURS SERIES (Paranormal Romance/Humor)

  Accidentally in Love with…a God? (Book 1)

  Accidentally Married to…a Vampire? (Book 2)

  Sun God Seeks…Surrogate? (Book 3)

  Accidentally…Evil? (a Novella) (Book 4)

  Vampires Need Not…Apply? (Book 5)

  Accidentally…Cimil? (a Novella) (Book 6)

  Accidentally…Over? (Series Finale) (Book 7)

  COMING SOON

  FUGLY (Contemporary Romance)

  MERCILESS (Book 3, the Mermen Trilogy)

  MACK (Book 4, the King Series)

  TOMMASO (Immortal Matchmakers Series, Book 2)

  BRUTUS (Immortal Matchmakers Series, Book 3)

  GOD OF WINE (Immortal Matchmakers Series, Book 4)

  TAILORED FOR TROUBLE (THE HAPPY PANTS SERIES Book 1) (Romantic Comedy)

  Like “FREE” Pirated Books? Then Ask Yourself This Question: WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE I’M HELPING?

  What sort of person or organization would put up a website that uses stolen work (or encourages its users to share stolen work) in order to make money for themselves, either through website traffic or direct sales?

  Haven’t you ever wondered?

  Putting up thousands of pirated books onto a website or creating those anonymous ebook file sharing sites takes time and resources. Quite a lot, actually.

  So who are these people? Do you think they’re decent, ethical people with good intentions? Why do they set up camp anonymously in countries where they can’t easily be touched? And the money they make from advertising every time you go to their website, or through selling stolen work, what are they using if for?

  The answer is you don’t know.

  They could be terrorists, organized criminals, or just greedy bastards. But one thing we DO know is that THEY ARE CRIMINALS who don’t care about you, your family, or me and mine.

  And their intentions can’t be good.

  And every time you illegally share or download a book, YOU ARE HELPING these people. Meanwhile, people like me, who work to support a family and children, are left wondering why anyone would condone this.

  So please, please ask yourself who YOU are HELPING when you support ebook piracy and then ask yourself who you are HURTING.

  And for those who legally purchased/borrowed/obtained my work from a reputable retailer (not sure, just ask me!) muchas thank yous! You rock.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

  Copyright © 2015 by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the writer, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks are not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9962504-1-2

  PRINT ISBN: 978-0-9962504-2-9

  Cover Design by EarthlyCharms.com

  Editing by Latoya C. Smith and Pauline Nolet

  Formatting by WriteIntoPrint.com

  DEDICATION

  To Bridget and Ally. Thank you for your insane passion for this series (especially Cimil), for your love of unicorn paraphernalia, for the fun you bring to the street team, for the exuberance you show for life, and for being awesome human beings. You make the world a better place.

  WARNING:

  This book contains F-bombs, unicorns, leather pants, vampires, insane deities, hot assassins, and many references to extremely large penises. If you do not like F-bombs, unicorns, leather pants, vampires, insane deities, hot assassins, or large penises then this story is likely not for you.

  Contents

  OTHER WORKS BY MIMI JEAN PAMFILOFF:

  DEDICATION

  WARNING:

  IMMORTAL MATCHMAKERS, INC

  My Dearest People Pets:

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  AUTHOR’S NOTE
<
br />   ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  FUGLY - COMING SOON!

  MerCiless – Coming November 30th, 2015!

  MACK (from the King Trilogy)

  Glossary

  Character Definitions The Gods

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ANSWERS TO THE QUIZ:

  IMMORTAL MATCHMAKERS, INC

  My Dearest People Pets:

  I’m back, bitches! Did ya miss me? Did ya, did ya, huh? Don’t answer that! Of course you did! And you’ve been counting the seconds, longing restlessly for my horribly inappropriate insanity. Well, wait no further! Auntie Cimi knows exactly what you want: A quiz! So without further ado, I giveth the quizeth:

  1. Dear gods, I am so very grateful that Mimi has decided to write a spin-off of the Accidentally Yours Series because:

  A. It gives me an excuse to continue sending Mimi unicorn-themed items (such as hand-crocheted hats, earrings, headbands with uni-horns, stickers, socks, “I don’t believe in humans” T-shirts, “I fucking love unicorns” pint glasses, and underwear) as well as all of the unicorn-related posts I find on Facebook.

  B. It did not sit well with me that Andrus, Tommaso, Belch (the God of Wine), Bees, the Goddess of Forgetfulness, Gabran, K’ak, Zac, Sentin, and all of the other immortals I’ve grown to love have not found their mates. Where’s the justice in that?!

  C. I do not buy for one moment that Cimil can be reformed, but I’m excited to watch her try.

  D. Men in leather pants with turquoise eyes make me wetter than a tadpole.

  2. I predict that during the IMMORTAL MATCHMAKERS, INC., series, we will discover the following about Minky the unicorn:

  A. She’s not real and never has been.

  B. She dreams of becoming a porn star.

  C. She is secretly in love with one of the gods.

  D. Minky isn’t a unicorn, but another species enslaved by Cimil for her own personal amusement.

  3. Cimil hates clowns because:

  A. They are evil.

  B. They are evil.

  C. They are evil.

  Okay, y’all. The quizeth has concludedeth. You may find the answers in the back of the book! And I do hope you enjoy my journey of restitution for all that I have done wrong. (Hahaha! You wish I cared! Okay, I secretly do. Don’t tell.)

  Accidentally Mine,

  Cimil, Goddess of the Underworld

  PS—Minky sends her invisible regards.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Godsdammit. I’m going to need a snack.” Zac, God of Temptation and the most awesome motherfucking badass deity on the planet, took his Bionic Man lunchbox from his black leather backpack, placed it on his desk, and went for his bologna sandwich.

  “Fuck. Me. This can’t be happening,” he whispered and tore off a big bite while staring at the computer screen. One hundred and fifty? They hadn’t even been open for a day.

  His computer made that strange little swoosh sound, indicating more of this “email” crap was flowing into his “inbox.”

  He took another bite and nearly choked. “What the bloody hell?” Now two hundred and eighty immortals had filled out the online request form.

  He looked over his shoulder, across the empty space of the twentieth floor, which they’d rented in downtown L.A. The big corner office remained empty.

  Traitor.

  It was well past noon, yet his crazy fucking redheaded mess of a sister Cimil, The Goddess of the Underworld, was nowhere to be found on their official first day of business. Of course, she’d insisted on getting the only office because she was “critical to mankind’s survival.”

  What a bunch of deity-crap. As far as he was concerned, they were both equally valuable to humanity and both in this mess for two reasons: One, she was bat-shit crazy. And two, he’d trusted her. Having to open this matchmaking agency for immortals was all her goddamned fault.

  That’s right. My only crime was falling in love with my brother’s woman. Yeah, so maybe he’d crossed a few lines, using his powers to try (and fail) to break them up. But banishment by the other gods to this hellhole of traffic, smog, and heat they called “Los Angeles”? Then having to come to this enormous, soul-sucking coffin of glass and steel—called an “office building”—every day to work like some lowly mortal slave to assist the unlaid immortal masses?

  No fucking gracias, amigos.

  His eyes darted around the empty space, taking note of its tragically undignified decorum of white walls, gray carpet, and artificial lighting. Maybe I can spruce up the place with some paintings of naked women and chocolate—tempting shit like that.

  He shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, dusted off his hands on his black leather pants, and went back to his computer, toggling through the profiles. Vampire, vampire, demigod, my brother, my other brother, Uchben, immortal warrior…unicorn?

  “Hi. Are you Zac?” said a sweet, feminine voice.

  He looked up and found a short woman with a long blonde ponytail and big blue eyes, standing in the doorway, looking very nervous. Her petite body, though covered in a horribly unrevealing dress with disgusting flowers all over it, was cute and curvy.

  She batted her big blues in question.

  He held up his index finger and swallowed down the lump of food. “Yeah, I’m Zac. Who the hell are you?” She appeared human, but this was a matchmaking agency for immortals only.

  With an eager, friendly smile she approached, holding out her hand. “I’m Tula Jones. So nice to meet you.”

  He stood from his chair and watched her gaze follow his face up, up, up.

  Her mouth fell open. “She wasn’t lying; you really are big.”

  Of course. He was a deity—one of fourteen, over seventy thousand years old, and seven feet of masculine perfection right down to his godsdamned dingle berries. Not that he had any, because he was far too perfect for that shit.

  Zac crossed his powerful arms over his magnificent chest. “Yes, I am big. In many, many ways.” He cocked a suggestive brow, wondering how many seconds it would take her to reach out and touch him. The ladies always wanted a little feel. “So which lucky lady sent you?” It wasn’t uncommon for the women to talk after an exquisite night with him. A god. A badass god. With a huge cock. And he’d been plowing a whole hell of a lot of mortal fields these past few weeks. Hell, what else was there to do? Cry over his broken, banished, badass heart? No fucking way.

  “Uh, well,” she said meekly, “your sister Cimil told me about you. Said I shouldn’t be afraid or let you push me around.”

  Cimil sent me a woman to fuck? This Tula was a bit small for his taste, around five feet or so, but she looked like she might know her way around a cock. Maybe this day was looking up.

  “She hired me to be your assistant,” Tula added, her nervous eyes continuing to scale up and down his body.

  Oh. So no afternoon booty delivery, huh? Maybe he’d go next door to the Starbucks and pick someone up. Banished and powerless or not, he was still a deity and completely irresistible to women. What his body didn’t catch, his scent did. One whiff and the ladies swarmed like horny bees.

  “And what makes my sister think I need an assistant?” he said skeptically.

  “Your sister said, and I quote, ‘He is a giant asshat and completely useless, so he needs someone to do everything for him.’”

  He wasn’t an asshat. An asshole, maybe. But either way, was Cimil out of her immortal skull? Humans were on a need-to-know basis because they usually freaked the fuck out about the immortal community. They’d have everything from vampires to that nightmare of a head case, Cimil’s unicorn, coming through on a daily basis.

  Tula added, “She also mentioned that you might need some cheering up and moral support. And, wow, she was right about your hair.”

  “My hair?” He ran his hand over the length of his shaggy black mane.

  “She said it screamed depression. Want me to book you a salon appointment?” Tula asked.

  What? His hair did not scream “depression.
It looked shiny and unkempt and screamed “badass!” The women constantly complimented him on how it set off his turquoise eyes.

  Of course, they’re usually looking at the bulge in my pants when they say it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, growling, “but I think there’s been a mistake. We’re not hiring.”

  “Uh-huh,” Tula said cheerily. “Should I sit here?” She walked around the desk and slid her petite frame past his body, sending a hard spike of arousal through his groin. She took the seat he’d just been in and looked up at him, smiling sassily.

  “What are you doing?” he said.

  “Your sister also explained that you’d try to run me off. Because, and I quote, ‘He’s a giant asshat and thinks he’s too awesome to need help from anyone.’”

  He growled and reached for her. “Okay, little girl, it’s time for you—”

  She leaned away from his hand. “Please don’t kick me out. I really need this job.”

  He froze and then dropped his hand. Godsdammit. “My sister told you to say that, didn’t she?”

  Tula shook her head. “No. But it’s the truth. I need the money for college. I’ve only got one more year left, and my parents can’t afford the tuition. This is the only job I’ve been able to find that comes close to paying the bills and is flexible enough for me to go to school.”

  Bloody fucking hell. She’d found his loophole. No, he didn’t mean his asshole—his loophole. A deity’s purpose was to help humans. It was hardwired into their DNA from day one.

  Now he had to help.

  He scratched his unshaven jaw, unsure of what to do with her. Why would Cimil hire this naïve little human female to help them pay their penance—finding mates for one hundred immortals—or something like that? Honestly, the other garble the other gods had said at his sentencing about learning compassion and the true meaning of love had gone in one ear and out the other. The part about being stripped of his powers and banished, however? Well, that stuck like dog shit on a shoe.

 
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20
Turn Navi Off
Turn Navi On
Scroll Up
Scroll