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Brutus – Immortal Matchmakers Inc
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From New York Times Bestseller Mimi Jean Pamfiloff comes BRUTUS, a Paranormal Romantic Comedy that will surely cause evil vampires to kidnap the author.
CAN THE WORLD’S TOUGHEST IMMORTAL WARRIOR WIN THE HEART OF THE WORLD’S TOUGHEST IMMORTAL WOMAN?
Brutus is not your average immortal warrior. He leads the gods’ army, he’s tough as nails, and his mind is so powerful, he no longer speaks to communicate with his men. Some call him telepathic; he just calls it being a badass.
But despite the many bloody battles and hard-won victories, this is one mission he’s not so sure about. There is a plague sweeping the immortal world. Gods, vampires, incubi—no one is safe, except for those with mates, and sadly, there just aren’t enough women to go around.
To keep the gods’ army intact, ready to protect the human world, Brutus must convince a group of ancient female warriors, located deep in the Amazon jungle, to return home with him, and…well…go on dates with his men.
But when the toughest, meanest, man-hating, sexiest woman of the group catches his eye, all he can think about is conquering her heart.
WARNING: This book contains a smokin’ hot immortal warrior looking for his forever love, a randy invisible unicorn, and bad, bad, such bad language. Okay, and some sex. Fine, yes! Lots of sex! And a kitten, a bit of violence, a man who loves knitting, mannibalism, unruly deities, Mayan priests who babysit animals, a naked goddess who wears a bee bikini, leather pants (for men), a very randy ghost who’s desperate for her HEA, anecdotes about evil mermen, a BIG plot twist even the author didn’t see coming, and a ton of romancy kind of stuff.
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“No. No more. I beg of you…” Tethered to a large tree, his hands bound together behind his back, Brutus, the world’s most fearless immortal warrior, was finally at his breaking point. His shoulder blades were raw from the friction of the bark, and his cock literally felt like it might fall off. Also, there were dried twigs and leaves up his ass crack. He hated sitting naked in the dirt, especially in such a dense, dark jungle. Things lived in the dirt. Scary things.
Nothing as scary as these women.
“Silence, male,” the tall blonde Amazonian woman growled and removed her suede sarong, leaving her completely nude with her pert nipples pointing straight at him like two predatory eyes. “Get that thing hard for me. Chop-chop. I’ve been waiting all morning for my turn.”
I cannot possibly come another time. It wasn’t that these females weren’t attractive, with their tall lean bodies and tanned skin, but they were rough. They were demanding. And frankly, he was not okay with being bossed around like this.
He was the one who gave orders.
He was a leader in the gods’ army.
He was a legendary immortal warrior.
And idiot me came alone on this important mission. Now he was a sex prisoner. Well, sorta.
Truth was, he could probably break free if he wanted, but then these women would likely try to kill him, and he’d have to fight his way out of the jungle. Sure, he’d win—no woman was a match for his massive muscles and experience in battle—but he would lose the war. The war that would end everything. These women could mean the difference between winning and losing.
Brutus tilted his head back and rested it on the tree behind him. “You’re not getting what you want. I’m spent. I’m tired and hungry. So kill me if you must, but I’m done.” He knew they wouldn’t really harm him. They were much too horny, and from the looks of things, not one man among them.
The female warrior crouched in front of him and squeezed his unshaved face, digging her daggerlike nails into the skin. “I want sex,” she snarled, “and you shall give it to me or…” She whipped out a long blade, just as the previous ninety-seven women had.
He flinched, feeling the sharp edge of the knife pressing against his right testicle. “Hurry. Get it over with, then,” he said, his tone pure cockiness.
“Helga! Leave him alone,” a familiar female voice barked. “Can’t you see the man is exhausted? He’ll be no use to us if you cut the coconuts off his tree, and my mother will be displeased.”
Helga slowly stood, taking her blade with her. “Stay out of this, Fina. It is my turn with the man, and I say whether he lives or dies. At the moment, I say die.”
Wearing a bikini made of animal hides, Fina stepped into view, appearing between two tall mango trees. She was by far the best looking among their tribe, with her wide hips, toned arms and legs, and almond-shaped eyes. Her most striking feature, however, was the unusual gold streak on her right temple that contrasted her long dark hair. Her mouth, on the other hand, left something to be desired. Very mean scowl.
Fina was the one who had initially encountered him in the jungle. What luck! he’d thought. His mission to find this group was a matter of the utmost importance, but instead of hearing him out, Fina had hit him over the head. He’d woken up here with his hands tied behind his back and his torso roped to this tree.
It had been over a week now, and his attempts to tell them why he’d come were futile. It was as if they tuned him out or had very selective hearing when it came to male voices. Not that he was much of a talker. It was a well-known fact back home that he and his men, all human warriors who’d been gifted the immortal light of the gods (making them demigods), had developed a bond so strong that they could communicate telepathically. Years of practice.
“Helga, I do not wish to quarrel over this man,” Fina said, placing a sour note on the word man—like he was a useless piece of shit or a rotten banana. “I am merely pointing out that we have not seen a male around here in decades, and such a fine, well-equipped specimen at that. If you kill him, the others will be very upset. They’ve already planned out a sex schedule for the next six months.”
Six months? “No. That’s fine,” Brutus interjected. “She’s free to kill me. I’ve lived long enough.”
Both women looked at him. Fina growled. Helga smiled with sadistic delight.
No, he didn’t truly have a death wish, but Brutus had been growing tired of his role, heading off one apocalypse after another—the invasion of evil Mayan priests, the invasion of evil vampires, the invasion of evil vampire Mayan priests. And now? The immortal plague. It was all so repetitive, and, frankly, it took the joy out of winning. Disaster. Triumph. Disaster. Triumph.