Goddess of forgetfulness, p.1
Goddess of Forgetfulness,
Great. Just great. I get to decide between destroying the world or hooking up with this jerk face.
With a snarl on her lips, she stepped off the platform, marched straight toward Mr. Blue Eyes, and stopped two feet in front of him.
“What are you doing?” he growled. “You have a show to put on.”
“You,” she pointed to his face, “will be silent.”
He frowned in question.
She reached up and pulled his head to hers, planting a lingering kiss on his lips. To her surprise, it felt kind of good. Warm, soft, sensual lips. Very surprising.
She snapped her head back and pointed in his face. “Okay, soft lips, you will meet me at my hotel room after the event.”
He cocked one dark brow. “Why would I do that?”
“Because if you do not, I will hunt you down, remove your beautiful smooth olive skin that seems to be well moisturized despite your rough manly exterior, and then I will dismember you, starting with that foul tongue.”
OTHER WORKS BY MIMI JEAN PAMFILOFF
The Librarian’s Vampire Assistant
Skinny Pants (Book 3, The Happy Pants Café Series)
Digging A Hole (Book 3, The Ohellno Series)
Check (Part 3, Mr. Rook’s Island Series)
THE ACCIDENTALLY YOURS SERIES
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 3.5)
Vampires Need Not…Apply? (Book 4)
Accidentally…Cimil? (a Novella) (Book 4.5)
Accidentally…Over? (Series Finale) (Book 5)
THE FATE BOOK SERIES
(Standalones/New Adult Suspense/Humor)
Fate Book Two
THE FUGLY SERIES
it’s a fugly life
THE HAPPY PANTS SERIES
The Happy Pants Café (Prequel)
Tailored for Trouble (Book 1)
Leather Pants (Book 2)
Skinny Pants (Book 3) SPRING 2018
IMMORTAL MATCHMAKERS, INC., SERIES
The Immortal Matchmakers (Book 1)
Tommaso (Book 2)
God of Wine (Book 3)
THE KING SERIES
King’s (Book 1)
King for a Day (Book 2)
King of Me (Book 3)
Mack (Book 4)
Ten Club (Series Finale, Book 5)
THE MERMEN TRILOGY
Mermen (Book 1)
MerMadmen (Book 2)
MerCiless (Book 3)
MR. ROOK’S ISLAND SERIES
Mr. Rook (Part 1)
Pawn (Part 2)
THE OHELLNO SERIES
(Standalones/New Adult/Romantic Comedy)
Smart Tass (Book 1)
Oh Henry (Book 2)
(Oh heck! I can’t remember.)
The Immortal Matchmakers, Inc., Series
Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
A Mimi Boutique Novel
Copyright © 2018 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.
Cover Design by Earthly Charms (www.earthlycharms.com)
Creative Editing by Latoya C. Smith (lcsliterary.com)
Line Editing and Proof Reading by Pauline Nolet (www.paulinenolet.com)
Formatting by bbebooksthailand.com
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.
About the Book
Other Works by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
Character Definitions – The Gods
Character Definitions – Not the Gods
About the Author
This book contains bad sexy men, offensive language, randy gods, tongue kissing, sex (but not enough, I’m sure), horrible jokes, go-go boots, a missing unicorn, evil mermen, political incorrectness, brutal honesty, and a crazy plot twist only longtime Mimi fans will see coming (maybe).
If you do not like books containing bad sexy men, offensive language, randy gods, tongue kissing, sex (but not enough, I’m sure), horrible jokes, go-go boots, a missing unicorn, evil mermen, political incorrectness, brutal honesty, and a crazy plot twist only longtime Mimi fans will see coming (maybe), then please consider yourself warned.
And then read the book anyway because, really, life is short, and it’s just a dang book. What have you got to lose? Think about all of those horrible B movies you’ve watched on Netflix recently because you’ve already binged on your favorite shows and there’s nothing else to watch. This might be better than those. Or not. But you’ll never know unless you try.
As for my awesome fans who’ve patiently waited for this book…let’s get this party started with an F-bomb.
“Gods fucking dammit!” With the loud intro music thundering in her ears and the bright lights beckoning her to the stage, the Goddess of Forgetfulness extended her right hand and cringed at her numbing fingertips. “This can’t be good.” And she certainly couldn’t go out there and perform like this. Because the tingling wasn’t some sort of deity carpal tunnel. It was the onset of a much, much bigger problem. The godly doomsday sort.
“Bite me, evil Universe. You can’t have me!” She shook out her hands, straightened her spine, and stomped the nonexistent dust from her white go-go boots like a Spanish bullfighter summoning courage. Twenty thousand well-deserving mortals from Ibiza, Spain awaited her just on the other side of the black
And, honey, there are a whole helluva lot of bad vibes sailing around the planet right now. It was her divine duty to help turn this earthly crap-cruise of negativity around. And my humans need to dance.
She lifted her chin and stepped forward—
“Ooph!” she grunted, unexpectedly colliding with something huge and solid. Suddenly, she was falling, her legs tangled with the other person’s.
She landed on her back with a grunt, a very warm body on top of her.
“Get off me!” Forgetty screamed, realizing she was buried beneath a man-shaped mound of muscles wearing an “I heart DJ Whatsherface” T-shirt.
Yes, yes. She was DJ Whatsherface—the world’s most anti-famous DJ, known for her addictive, hypnotically sexual spins as much as she was for everyone being unable to remember her. “Yeah! Let’s go see…that lady. She’s the best. I think?” Or, “I can’t remember her name or what she looks like, but I know I really want to see her and forget her again! Woohoo!”
It’s so weird being me, she thought quickly, taking notice of the offender’s sky-blue eyes, with lavender flecks, boring down on her.
Wow. Her breath jammed into her lungs, which stuck in the inflated position.
“Well, well, well…who do we have here?” he said in a deep melodic voice, not the least bit concerned about having knocked her over or being on top of her.
I will have to vanquish him. But after the show.
“Remove yourself at once, you pesky man-critter,” she snarled, “or I will hit you with something so powerfully vegetative, even your drool will have drool.”
Still on top of her, the man slid his arms to her wrists and pinned her down. His crisp blue irises flickered to full-on lavender and then back again.
Huh? What was that? It must’ve been the stage lights.
“Now, now.” He chuckled wickedly, seeming perfectly at home nestled between her thighs. “No need to be impolite. It was a simple mistake—of which, I forgive you. Just be more careful where you’re walking next time.”
Her mouth fell open.
“What? Cat got your tongue?” His smug smile grew. It was then that she noticed the supple fullness of his lips and his short dark beard that matched the brown roots of his long, dirty blond hair.
Fine. He’s hot. But how dare he not fear me and infer that a cat could best me or my tongue? I am a great and powerful deity. Yay me!
“No, baby,” she purred, preparing to blast him with a dose of her powerful light. “But this pussycat does have a bite.” Three, two, on—
The man jumped off her, getting to his feet and stumbling back. “Gah!” He winced in pain.
Oopsies, she thought sadistically. Humans could not tolerate prolonged contact with a deity unless the human wore black jade to blunt the god’s energy. If a god—say one with a lot of extra time on her hands—focused her thoughts, she could rile up her cells and get them to release a burst of light. Too much would kill a person. But just the right amount?
“Owww…” The man bent his well-built frame, planting his ripped arms on his knees. He had black geometric shapes tattooed on his muscled forearms. She’d seen those symbols before but couldn’t remember where.
Hmmm. Strange. Not like me to forget things. It was she who made others forget—their pain, their anger, their shopping lists.
“What the hell was that?” He panted toward his heavy leather boots.
“It’s you. Fucking off.” A satisfied grin crept over her lips as she sat up, grateful for having worn underwear beneath her short skirt tonight. Normally, she liked to free-cooter it, but it was January.
His head of long silky hair whipped up, and his abnormally handsome face—which she ignored, because…Ick him!—displayed a condescending frown.
“Me-fucking-yow, asshole,” she added.
He brought himself upright, his powerful pecs stretching out the front of his DJ Whatsherface fan T-shirt. His wide shoulders were the perfect size to support his very solid arms, and he looked to be at least seven feet tall like her brothers—not that the gods were really related. They’d all been birthed from cosmic soup for the Universe’s amusement.
“Wrong sound, sweetheart. Try barking.” He turned and started walking away, still not bothering to help her up.
Wait…barking? Barking? I will smite him!
She hopped to her feet. “Hey! Get back here, buddy. I am nobody’s bitch!”
Just before he turned the corner around the black stage curtain, she could swear she saw him chuckling—those broad, strong shoulders shaking.
“What’s so funn…” She looked down at her shirt, remembering her outfit—a hot pink miniskirt and a tight white T-shirt that said “BITCH” on the front. On the back, “Perra Sucia,” or dirty bitch in Spanish.
She crinkled her lips and planted her hands on her sides. The shirt had been funny this morning when she’d put it on, looking for something edgy to wear. Kind of like saying “yeah, I’m a badass” in two languages. Now she just felt stupid.
Because he ruined it. She would find him later and set him straight. Right now, she needed to get on with the show.
She closed her eyes, gathering herself. Get it together, goddess. It’s time to party. She released a soothing breath and opened her heart to the awaiting masses outside. She had a job to do.
Yes, and now you have two. Because that numbing in her fingertips could only mean one thing: Her countdown had begun. If she didn’t find a man—her man—she would turn evil.
And gods help us all. A rogue Forgetty meant an irreversible worldwide amnesia epidemic.
“What? Oh, pickles!” Cimil, Goddess of the Underworld, yelled at her sister Forgetty through her pink Bedazzled cell phone while staring at the towering pile of Twinkie boxes in her cart. She hated shopping at club stores, especially in the middle of downtown LA, but sometimes a goddess just needed Twinkies. A lot of freakin’ Twinkies.
And now this? Thank goodness I made it here before the store closed.
“What do you mean your evil switch has been triggered? You can’t flip!” Cimil pushed the shopping cart forward, behind the man buying an obscene amount of whipped cream. She would have to follow him home—clearly the man was up to no good. “Whatsyourface, you know I’m already up to my eyeballs with flippin’ flippers. The unmated gods are dropping like flies. Or mom tits. My jugs will never be the same after giving the old boob juice to my quadruplets.” Really, nothing on her petite, immortal body would be the same. Even her once silky red hair looked like a tumbleweed. On fire.
Whatsherface’s forlorn voice came through the phone. “Don’t play dumb, Cimil. I’m sure you saw this coming, which is why I’m pissed. You could have at least warned me.”
No. Cimil had not seen this coming. Just like she hadn’t known the Universe would be getting all pissed off at the gods, messing with the unmated immortals—the good were turning evil, evil turning good. Only those with a significant other were safe, as they had someone to prevent their yin from yanging.
Or yang from yinning?
“I woulda warned you,” said Cimil, “but I was busy not seeing jack because I’m banished! Remember? You all voted to take away my powers, so now sorting out the future is like pouring alphabet soup into my ears. Not so effective—unless it’s Monday. Then pour away. Other than that, I’m flying blindfolded, which I sucked at even when I had my powers—no wings!” Listening to the dead, who existed on another plane where time didn’t exist, was where she rocked it. The deceased would babble about the future, and she listened for big bad events to come and then helped everyone change course. Only now that her brethren had taken away her powers and sentenced her and her brother Zac, the God of Temptation, to the mortal world until they matched up one hundred immortals (a sad attempt to teach them about love and helping
“Whatever, Cimil.” Whatsherface sighed. “Doesn’t matter now. We’re all screwed.”
“Yes, but once you lose your nutshells, we won’t remember, so who really cares?” The Goddess of Forgetfulness would slide into darkness, unleash her powers, and wipe out the memories of billions of humans, thirteen gods, thousands of vampires, a handful of incubi, a few hundred mermen and mermaids, the demigod army, the were-penguins, and every other evolved species of corporeal beings on the planet.
Except the sea turtles. They should be safe. Of course, they weren’t really from this planet.
“Cimil! Get that useless head of yours out of your butthole!” Forgetty barked. “This isn’t like some Forgetty weekend special where I bump into you and it wears off like a bad hangover. This is catastrophic. Anyone exposed to the full force of my powers won’t be getting their memories back. Ever. Humans will forget who they are and how to perform important tasks like reading or growing their own food. Hell, they won’t even know how to wipe their asses or brush their teeth. Is that the world you want to go back to? Because we’ve been there. And it wasn’t pretty!”
“Ewww…I see what you mean. I definitely don’t want bad breath making a comeback. Bathing is also good. Remember when humans used to slather themselves in lard and scrape it off like nasty BO butter and—”
“Yes. I remember,” Forgetty snapped. “Hygiene is an olfactive blessing.”
“Then you’ll just have to teach them, because you’ll still remember how, right? You can create the Forgetty University of Ass Wiping and Dangly-Bit Washing. It’ll be a hit!”
Forgetty groaned. “Cimil, this isn’t a joke. And frankly, dirty danglies are the least of our problems. There are humans with babies, elderly parents, and pets. And what about the animals at the zoos? Who will feed them? And what about those who look after nuclear power plants? The reactors will decay if no one maintains them. And it’s not like humans will be able to simply pick up a book and relearn everything; they’ll all be illiterate. And babbling like naked monkeys.”