Fanged Love Read Online Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Categories Genre: Fantasy, Paranormal, Romance, Vampires Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)

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Fanged Love by

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Book Information:

From USA Today bestselling authors, Mimi Jean Pamfiloff and Kylie Gilmore, comes a hilarious, sexy, Vampire Romance about the girl next door and an ancient prince who’s lost when it comes to modern women.
Greetings. My name is Prince Bozhidar, and I am an eight-hundred-year-old vampire. Correction.
I am an eight-hundred-year-old, virile, confident, and very sexy vampire—so I’m told. I have wealth, looks, and everything an immortal man could ever want. Well, except love. But no matter. I am not a one-neck sort of man.
Yet the virginal woman across the road sets my senses afire. And she needs my help with her family’s failing winery. My own is quite successful. My honor demands I help this enchanting female, and when I do, my heart begins beating anew. She is my mate. Strangely, my gifts of seduction do not seem to work on her.
Perhaps I need to fit in with modern dating customs to win this modern woman. And then there’s the small matter that she doesn’t believe in vampires.
There is no fighting destiny, sweet Stella. You will be mine.
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Mimi Jean Pamfiloff



Why the devil is there a splinter in my ass? Inside the cozy darkness of my coffin, made from the finest oak an obscenely wealthy Transylvanian prince can buy, I uncross my arms and shift from my back onto my right side.

Ouch! With my eyes closed and still half asleep, I wiggle, feeling nothing but rough hard wood beneath me. Damn that Cornelia!

“Neli! Get down here this instant!” Neli is my loyal “human” slave, gifted to me long ago. She is supposed to take care of all the things I do not wish to deal with, which is basically everything. I find her to be lazy and stupid like most humans. For example, I have told her a thousand times not to use the carpenter in our village to refurbish my coffin. He always does such a terrible job reupholstering the cushions, even after I threatened him. And ate two of his three daughters.

It is as if the man has something against me.

I roll onto my bare back once more and sigh. Well, I suppose I will not be getting my beauty rest. A shame because I feel especially tired this evening, as if I have not had a wink of sleep today.

I suppose it is the stress of all those pesky peasants demanding I stop drinking their virgins and taxing them for the privilege to farm my land. Land I inherited when my master, the Great Kylgorii Gillmoreanu, perished in a very unfortunate sunshine accident. Yes, yes, I may have been the one to leave the dungeon escape door open, but it was truly an accident when I also forgot to close his coffin.

It is just that his coat was so velvety. As his squire, who wore rags made from potato sacks, I naturally admired the soft, luxurious feel. He was an early-to-bed sort of man—hitting the coffin at four or five each morning—so I often entered the dungeon to admire his fine clothing before I myself slipped into the pig crate I called home during daylight hours. Imagine my shock when I rose on that fateful night to find he was gone and that I had inherited his title, wealth, castle, and problems. That was years ago—far too many to count—and though I had technically been his slave, I still miss him. The way he could suck a neck and drain a flailing woman in three seconds was amazing.

Oh, Kylgorii. Sorry about the coffin, my friend. If he were here now, he would have Neli whipped into shape. Literally. I myself have never been able to whip, tame, or motivate her to do anything she did not wish to do. I would remove her head for her constant insolence, but she has a way with the villagers.

“Neli!” I yell once again and push on the coffin lid. The hinges pop from the wood, and the lid goes flying to the stone floor.

Very poor craftsmanship, indeed. I will have to speak to the carpenter this evening. Kylgorii taught me that to rule is to instill fear. Let up for one moment, and people will begin to think they have power. Hysterical.

Naked, I hop from my shabby coffin and grab my black satin cape from the hook on the wall. Why so dusty? As I inspect the thing, it disintegrates in my hands and falls to the floor.

What the devil? We must have a moth issue. Very ravenous, from the looks of it. And where is that damned Cornelia? I hadn’t really noticed the cobwebs this morning when I went to sleep, but clearly she’s been neglecting her cleaning duties. The lack of torches is also unacceptable.

I bet she spent the night with that sheepherder again. That does it.