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Synopsis
Trapped for decades, a powerful god seeks freedom . . . and revenge. But the only thing that can save him is the passion of a woman's touch . . .
Emma Keane is your average city girl trying to get a date. There's just one thing holding her back: the disembodied male voice speaking to her through her mind. Sound kind of crazy? Maybe. But crazy turns downright deadly when the voice persuades her to travel to the wilds of the Mayan jungle. There she will free his body-his incredibly hot, muscled, naked body.
Humans are so frail, so undisciplined, so susceptible to love. And when this ancient being connects with Emma, the feelings she sparks drive him utterly mad. Protective, keep-her-close, never-let-her-go kind of mad. Which might not be such a bad thing because from the moment the beautiful, passionate Emma unshackles his body, they are hunted at every turn. Now he'll have to do everything in his power to keep her safe. But will it be enough?
The Accidentally Yours Series BOOK 1: Accidentally in Love with...a God?
BOOK 2: Accidentally Married to...a Vampire?
BOOK 3: Sun God Seeks...Surrogate?
BOOK 3.5: Accidentally...Evil? (a Novella)
BOOK 4: Vampires Need Not...Apply?
BOOK 4.5: Accidentally...Cimil? (a Novella) (Coming in January 2014)
BOOK 5: Accidentally...Over? (Coming in August 2014)
Release date: March 5, 2013
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Print pages: 288
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
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Accidentally In Love With...A God?
Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
“The story really made an impression and she definitely makes me want to continue on with her series… witty and catchy.”
—BookMaven623.wordpress.com on ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE WITH… A GOD?
“Accidentally Married to… A Vampire? remains one of the funniest paranormal novels I’ve read in a long time.”
—Indiebookspot.com
“It was fun, the pace was fast, there were laugh-out-loud funny lines, plenty of pop-culture references, and lots of very sexy moments. I am definitely going to be reading the author’s other books!”
—SarahsBookshelves.blogspot.com on Accidentally Married to… A Vampire?
“Hot sex, a big misunderstanding, and a shocker of an ending that made me want the next book in the series now! I can’t wait go back and read the other books in the series.”
—Romancing-the-book.com on Accidentally… Evil?
“5 Stars! Although I closed my eyes during the steamy scenes and do not approve of the F-word, it was really quite exciting!”
—Mimi’s mother
“Mimi’s books make the naughty side come out of you.”
—Ashley Swartz
“Her books should come with a warning label. WARNING: MAY BE ADDICTING UPON FINISHING! PRESCRIPTION—MORE NAUGHTINESS FROM MIMI?”
—Ashlee Randall
“Mimi makes evil look so yummy *wink*.”
—Lupe Valdez
“It’s hard to say who’s crazier, Mimi or Cimil… One talks to voices in her head and the other talks to bugs.”
—Ally Davis Kraai
“Accidentally Evil treated me like a dog—it left me sitting here begging, panting, and wanting more treats!”
—Tami Baney
“Accidentally Evil makes me like my cat when she paws at the glass trying to eat my hamster.”
—Michaela Trott
“Reality is the fantasy world of the gods… just ask Mimi; she heard it firsthand from Cimil!”
—Cathy Swiger Lincoln
“Really??? Enough with the evil, the dead, and the crazy… No, wait, that’s the whole plotline.”
—Vania Bushman
“The evil woman knows how to turn a phrase to keep you reading. Must be a witch thing!”
—Dina Gower
Present Day
Wasn’t dating supposed to be fun? Because this was anything but. At any moment, a man I’d never met—approximately six foot three, brown hair, and soul-piercing blue eyes, according to his online profile—would walk through the door of the Conga Lounge, give his name to the hostess, and scream hysterically at the sight of me. Okay. He wouldn’t scream… aloud, anyway. Not that I was heinous, but anyone who looked closely enough might notice I was… different.
I eyeballed the door, contemplating a mad dash before he arrived.
No, you can do this, I thought, while staring at the condensation channeling down my glass of water, my leg bouncing under the table. Why had my date picked a corny-themed bar that looked like Gilligan’s Island threw up? What sort of man goes novelty on the first date?
Bad sign. Bad sign.
At least the other patrons seated around the faux torchlit room, leisurely sipping Bahama Mamas and mai tais were oblivious to my impending meltdown.
I felt the gentle whoosh of summer evening air as the door swung open, and the noise from the traffic-packed New York street poured in. A tall man with sun-kissed skin, broad shoulders, and tousled brown hair floated inside—yes, floated—as if he’d ridden in on a cloud straight from Hot Man Land. He wore a black, polished cotton shirt, which hugged his well-constructed chest, and low-slung jeans that molded to his lean physique. He wasn’t just good-looking, he was Milan runway edible.
“Oh, sweet Virgin of Guadalupe, please be Jake,” I muttered under my breath.
Like a cliché from a movie, our eyes met from across the room, and his face lit up with a dimple-framed smile. My heart nearly stopped. “Thank you, Virgin,” I said, releasing my breath.
He strutted across the restaurant, a magnet for every female in the room.
“Emma?” he said in a deep, slow-churned voice, then smiled and held out his hand. I stood up in a daze, mentally pinching myself.
“You are Emma, right? Curly, shoulder-length, red hair, five three. Several crazed female stalkers for best friends?”
Oh no. What had my roommates done? Since the whole online-blind-date thing was their idea, they assured me they’d carefully “screened” the guy. But I thought they were just joking about breaking into his apartment and rummaging through his underwear drawer. And dammit, they hadn’t even bothered to dish.
Tighty-whities or boxers?
I looked down at his outstretched hand. Oh, shoot. Shake hands. “Sorry, it’s just—I wasn’t expecting someone so…” I swallowed and placed my palm in his. It was warm and inviting, like his eyes. “Um… so tall.”
“And I wasn’t expecting a woman so”—he paused to look me over like a dog eyeing a giant juicy steak—“adorable.”
“Adorable?” said the deep male voice inside my head. “What kind of moron compliments a woman with the word adorable? Does he think you’re a goddamned puppy?”
Couldn’t I have one, just one lousy day without the voice? My blood began to boil instantly, but I resisted the urge to snap back with something lame like, “Well, maybe Jake senses I want to lick him from head to toe. Maybe even have a go at his leg.” But then I thought better of myself. Because tonight, I was on a mission, and nothing would stop me from climbing my own mental Mount Everest: convince myself that I, Emma Keane, could feel attraction for a real live man with ten fingers, ten toes, arms and legs, and the other necessary, dangly bits needed to make a relationship normal. All I needed was the right man.
The catch?
The other person I had to prove this to wasn’t exactly a person. Okay, truth be told, he was a mysterious voice only I could hear. Yes, a luscious, deep, velvety voice so intriguing and seductive it could turn me into a quivering mindless puddle of need with one little sigh. I couldn’t get enough of it. Sound crazy? That wasn’t the half of it. But it was why I had to do this. If I wanted a shot at normal, I had to take this first step and break this annoying, lifelong addiction.
Jake and I held hands for several moments before we sank into our wicker seats. “You must be Jake.” Stupid statement, I know, but I had forgotten all of the witty icebreakers I’d painstakingly memorized.
He nodded and continued smiling.
“So.” I paused, trying to think of something clever to say. It didn’t happen. “My friends, they didn’t do anything crazy, did they?” Other than a felony B and E?
Jake shook his head. “Aside from having me followed? No. They just sent an e-mail making it clear they’d remove both my testicles if I did anything wrong.”
I cringed inside, but at least he didn’t know about the home invasion.
“With a dull spoon,” Jake added.
The voice snickered. “I’ve changed my mind. I now officially approve of your friends.”
Jake continued, lowering his voice, “I’m glad I came. I thought your profile might have been exaggerating your looks. It didn’t.”
“What a cretin. You’re not falling for this crap, are you, Emma?”
I felt my temper percolating, but I hung on. “Thanks,” I said to Jake and then looked down at my hands.
“I hope you like this place.” He opened up the piña colada–shaped menu. “The food, I hear, is tiki-licious.”
“Right. That’s it. This date… is over!”
Percolate went to boiling over. “Jake, I’ll be right back.”
“Um, okay,” I heard him say as I stomped off to the bathroom. I slammed the door shut and checked the two small stalls.
Empty.
“You giant turd! You promised you wouldn’t talk!” I hissed. “Not a peep.”
“Well, that was before…”
“Before what?”
There was a cricket-worthy pause.
“Fine. You listen to me, Guy.” That was my latest name for him since he’d never shared his real one. “We had a deal. You promised you’d behave—”
“And you swore on your soul you’d pull the plug if I said so.”
“Oh, no, no, my friend.” I shook my finger at the air, even though he couldn’t see me. “I said I’d end the date if you sensed anything wrong.”
“Yes, and he’s clearly deranged.”
“Deranged?” I barked. “You’re un-bel-ievable! He’s said two words—”
“Eighty-five. Or was it eighty-seven? Hell, it doesn’t matter. I knew on word three there was something… off.”
“Oh my God! You’re completely full of it!” Hiccup! Hiccup! “Great. See what you did? My night is ruined.” Hiccup!
“Do you have a paper bag?” he asked.
I continued hiccuping uncontrollably. “No. Doesn’t exactly go with my new dress.” Hiccup. “Besides.” Hiccup. “That only works for hyperventilating. I’m working up to that next.”
“New dress?” he asked, his tone a notch above angry. “You didn’t wear the new green dress, did you? The tight one that shows every curve and ‘makes a man instantly hard,’ as your friend, Anne, so eloquently stated?”
The door to the restroom swung open. The woman gave me a nod as she went into one of the stalls.
Christ! I’d forgotten my wireless headset. Again. Without it, I looked like another New Yorker one step away from a Repent Now! sandwich sign. I scrounged through my matching satin evening bag and popped on my prop.
“Answer me! Did you wear the dress? After I expressly prohibited it?”
Should I tell him I secretly wish he could see me in it? No. No! What am I thinking? He could never know what went on inside my head; he’d only use my feelings against me. I hiccuped three times in quick succession. “Yes! I wore it, and it looks fabulous. You should see all the men walking around with colossal erections from looking at me!”
Just then, the woman emerged from the stall and scampered out of the bathroom. She didn’t even bother to wash her hands. Ewww, I thought.
“You play with fire, little girl.”
“No! You play with…” I couldn’t think of anything meaty to say. “Uuuh… fire. I’m going out there, and I’m going to finish this date whether you like it or not. And if you make one more peep, just one more, you’re going to… uh… get burned!” I so need to work on my threat technique. “Got it?”
“And if I don’t do as you say?”
Again, I came up empty in the threat department, so I threw out, “I’ll go home with Jake and sleep with him! That’s right. Wild monkey sex, too! Hanging from the chandelier and everything.” Does Jake even have a chandelier? I’ll have to ask.
He growled. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me! Not one more peep!” I smoothed down my curls, hiccuped five more times, then took a deep breath, and headed out into the dining area. The woman from the bathroom caught my eyes for a brief moment before looking toward her date and leaning in to whisper something. Her companion shot me a quick judgmental glance over his shoulder. I resisted blurting out that his date was disgusting and had cooties on her hands. Instead, I lifted my chin and walked over to the table where Jake was sitting back, completely unaware of the turbulence he’d invited into his life.
That’s when the tsunami of guilt hit me.
I stopped and looked down at Jake, the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in real life.
“Everything okay?” he asked, obviously wondering why I hadn’t taken my seat.
Jake’s online profile said he was looking for someone special, someone to settle down with. That someone wasn’t me. How could it be? I was… complicated. My heart was trapped in some sort of bizarre purgatory, attached to a voice. Or, more accurately stated, attached to the endless images and fantasies my mind had conjured up to go with the stupid voice.
I couldn’t go on with the date. There was simply no point. I had to get rid of Guy, or there would be no normal. No boyfriends. No husband. No wild monkey sex.
I hiccuped twice, making Jake jump in his seat.
He stifled a smile. “Oh, here. Try drinking some water.”
I smoothed down the front of my dress, barely holding on to my tattered self-esteem. “I’m sorry, Jake, but you don’t want me. I’ve got so much baggage even JFK couldn’t handle it. But it was nice meeting you, and I hope you find that special someone.”
Jake stared blankly and then nodded slowly.
I bolted outside onto the bustling street filled with people enjoying their Friday night, living their lives while I continued hiccuping uncontrollably.
“Emma, I’m glad you came to your senses. All this bickering is tiresome, especially when you know I’m right. That male was despicable. Why do you even bother to challenge me?”
That’s when the doors flew off.
“You’re a horrible, egotistical caveman! I’m done! Do you hear me? Done! You. Have. Got to leave!”
Several couples scurried past me. Although I was pretending to be talking to someone on my headset, I still looked like a detonating atom bomb in a green dress, mushrooming with toxic radiation.
“I’m not going anywhere, Emma. Besides, what would you do without me?”
“You can’t be serious!”
“Why the hell not? If it weren’t for me, some sleazeball would be using you for his sexual pleasure at this very moment. Is that what you truly want?”
“Yes! Wait. No…” I sighed. “Don’t you get it?” I need to move on. I need a normal life. I can’t keep obsessing over you, I wanted to add and thanked my lucky stars Guy could not read my thoughts.
“Once again, you ask this ridiculous question. The answer is no! I do not ‘get it.’ I do not ‘get’ your determination to throw yourself into situations that will only cause trouble. And as long as I exist, I have vowed to protect you… even if it’s from yourself.”
“Protect me?” That was always his fallback line, but he never could explain why that was even necessary. What the hell did I need protection from? “You’re not protecting me, you’re hurting me and keeping me from having an actual life! And if you’re not going to tell me why, there’s nothing left to talk about.”
“I’ve still got plenty to say, little girl.”
“No! This is over! Do you hear me? I’m ending this.” I stepped off the curb into the crosswalk, continuing to stomp my way home, determined to find the answer to my million-dollar question: How, dammit, would I get rid of him? I’d researched exorcists, psychotherapy drugs to block him from my mind, and shock treatment, but nothing gave me hope of extracting him without exposing myself and being locked away in a white padded room. Just then, from the corner of my eye, I saw a set of lights barreling down on me and felt my body fly through the air before everything went dark.
“Guy? What happened? Where am I?” I said aloud. I spun several times, looking up, down, in every direction. I was perched on a large balcony jutting from the face of a decadent three-story villa carved into a lush green hillside. Like a fortress, I thought. I feel safe here.
“Emma, honey? Can you hear me?” a familiar female voice called from beyond the rolling hills.
My head snapped up, canvassing the terrain. I saw nothing but miles of neatly groomed vines heavy with burgundy grapes and almost as beautiful as the red-and-pink bougainvillea bowing over the towering arched windows at my sides. Every inch of the place was breathtaking. But where was I? Heaven. Yes, must be heaven.
“Emma, please, baby. Come back.” The voice carried on the wind. It was my mother I finally realized, but I didn’t want to leave.
Just then, a low hum tumbled down the hills like an invisible avalanche and began sifting into the air around me, vibrating like a swarm of angry bees. The noise roared inside my head.
I cupped my ears and doubled over, but the sound only amplified. My skull quaked with pain as the buzzing burrowed deep inside and settled in my bones, causing me to collapse into a quivering heap. I could have stayed like that for minutes, hours, or days. Who knows? But when that luscious voice came crashing through the layers of crippling noise, I clung to it like a life raft. It was a voice so soothing, so deep and hypnotic that every cell in my body fluttered with euphoria.
Then the voice began humming, a message embedded in the melody, “Please, my sweet, do not leave me. I’m sorry.” The voice repeated the same message over and over again, yet never paused from the melody.
Wait. I recognized that song. It was—it was from… Madame Butterfly!
“Oh, God. No! Go away!” My eyes flew open. I wanted to scream, but tubes were wedged in my mouth and throat. I gagged and clawed, then heard ear-piercing beeps and screeches.
My parents, with ghostly pale faces, hovered over me, yelling for the nurse. I was in the hospital, and not just any hospital, but the one where my parents practiced. The powder-blue walls were unmistakable.
“Emma! Baby!” My mother slid the tube from my mouth, threw herself over me, and sobbed with joy.
I winced as someone flipped on the blinding lights directly above. “What happened?” I managed to croak.
My mother’s bloodshot brown eyes told me it was something catastrophic. “You were hit by a cab, honey,” she said as she smoothed the hair back from my forehead. “The driver said you just… came out of nowhere.”
Oh. That. “I was distracted.” By an evil, disembodied dictator who’s hijacked my head, I wanted to add.
“Yes, Dr. Keane?” The nurse entered the room through a panel of pale blue curtains and gasped, her eyes wide. She scrambled to my side and began prodding while my parents moved aside and began hugging each other, crying.
“How long was I out?” I grumbled to the nurse, who checked my vitals.
She gave me a nervous look before she flashed a light in my eyes. “One month.”
One month? I’d been out one whole month? I wiggled my toes under the beige blanket covering my lower legs. My body was stiff and sore, but nothing felt broken.
“Blunt head trauma with no signs of brain activity. You were in a coma, but you beat the odds, young lady,” the nurse elaborated, checking my IV drip. “A true miracle.”
The word miracle jarred me. Was it really? Had getting hit by a cab and being in a coma been the magic key to getting rid of Guy? I remembered the dream I’d had before waking up, but it could have been just that, a dream.
I mentally held my breath, hoping the universe had taken pity on me, while the nurse spent the next few minutes observing me like a lab rat before she turned to my still-sobbing parents, who were alternating between hugging each other and making calls on their cells to family.
“Can I speak with you both outside for a moment?” the nurse asked. “I need you to fill out some paperwork.”
Frantic, they each kissed me on the forehead. “We’ll be back in two seconds, baby,” my mom sputtered. “I love you. Oh, thank God you’re okay. We—I, we just love you so much, honey. We’ll be right back.”
“I love you guys, too,” I mumbled.
They disappeared behind the curtain out into the hall. The heavy door made a loud thug! as it closed behind them.
“Emma?”
Crap! I jumped. “Holy Virgin of Guadalupe, not you.” I covered my face with my hands.
“We have some unfinished business to discuss, you and I.”
“Go away,” I mumbled with a raspy voice. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”
“In fact, no. I cannot, nor do I truly wish to.”
“Why did it have to be a cab?” I hissed. “Where’s a red double-decker when you need one?”
“Please, my sweetness, do not say such things. Do you know they were ready to pull the plug and dice you into tiny pieces like a pig at the butcher? Damned organ harvesters. It took every ounce of energy I had to bring you back.”
How awful that must have been for my parents. They were both doctors. So if they’d made that choice, it was because they had lost any hope for me. “Don’t act like my savior. You did this to me.”
There was a long pause. “And now I see that you were right… this cannot go on.”
Could he be saying what I thought? “You’re going to leave?” I whispered. A tiny part of my heart protested; the rest of me rejoiced at the notion.
“Not exactly.”
The ratio of protest to rejoice flip-flopped. “What, then?”
There was another long pause, and that’s when I noticed my ears were ringing. No, they were vibrating.
“I cannot leave you, but you can free me.”
“Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
I shook my head from side to side. Maybe it was a side effect from the head injury, but I could’ve sworn I’d just heard voices. No. No frigging way! No more voices. Uh-uh. I refused to buy any more real estate in Crazytown. “Never mind. What did you say?”
“Free me.”
He was serious. I could hear it in his voice. I didn’t bat an eyelash. He was actually offering me a chance to get rid of him? To get my life back? “What will I have to do?”
“Travel south.”
“Florida?”
“Mexico.”
“Sorry?”
“Mexico. You know, that little country on the map below yours. Home of tequila and the taco.”
“I don’t understand. Why there?”
“That is where I am, physically.”
Holy crap. “You have”—I swallowed hard—“a body?”
“Is something wrong with your hearing? Yes, I have a body, and you are to go to the jungle and find it.”
Holy pickles. This entire time I thought he was some nomadic soul who’d glommed on to me for kicks.
My head began to spin. What did he look like? What if he was like one of those images my mind had dreamed up on hundreds of occasions? There was the one where he stood like a pillar of destruction, donning ancient armor, overlooking a cliff, the wind ripping through his wild ropes of black-as-midnight hair. Then there was my personal favorite where he lay nude across a plush velvet couch next to a fire, his abs rippling under bronzed skin, with golden waves of hair draping down his shoulders as he waited for me.
What was I thinking? Did I have brain damage? Was I really worrying about what he’d look like? “What exactly are you?”
“You are in no danger from me.”
“How reassuring. Really. Don’t suppose you’re going to tell me more? Species might be nice. Or how it’s possible your body is in the Mexican jungle yet I can hear you?”
“Those points are not open for discussion.”
Of course not. Why should I believe he’d make this easy? “You wouldn’t happen to look like a troll or have a body covered in giant warts?” At a minimum I hoped he’d be uglier than sin because that might help end my irrational, unhealthy obsession. Or perhaps not. Because as shameful as it was to admit, something about Guy overrode every ounce of logic known to Emma-kind, which absolutely scared the hell out of me, especially since he was only in my head.
He sighed in that special tone, which sounded more like a groan and made my toes curl. “Not even close.”
Dammit. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who the hell you really are,” I said.
He let out a soft, arrogant chuckle, as if he already knew he’d get what he wanted without any concessions. “Rest, my sweet. You need to heal. There’ll be time later to make our plans, but I am truly sorry for putting you in this position when I am supposed to protect you.”
“Protect me from what? Tell me, dammit.”
Silence.
“For once, just answer me!” I demanded.
“For starters, yourself.”
“I’m a grown woman. I don’t need a babysitter.” Except around bright yellow taxis.
“Heads, Emma. Frozen heads. Twenty of them in his fucking freezer. The bastard.”
“Now is not the time for a deranged haiku, Guy.” He always did have a bad, bad sense of humor.
“Not a haiku, Emma. That male you went on a date with, Jake. They found heads in his freezer. He was a serial killer.”
“I—I don’t believe you.” I cupped my hands over my mouth. I would have gone home with Jake if he’d asked. Not that I was easy, but I’d been so desperate to make a stand against Guy, and Jake was too hot.
“Just ask your friend, Anne. She was here visiting and spoke of it.” His tone was smug, too smug. “I saved your life. Twice.”
I suddenly felt sick. Not because of the heads, mind you—although that was certainly gross. But because if Guy was telling the truth about Jake being off, which I seriously suspected he had been, then he was also telling the truth about protecting me from that something else he kept alluding to. I was in danger, but from what? Bastard. It was my life. Why wouldn’t he tell me what was going on? “Fine. Maybe you’re right about Jake, but I don’t care. I’d face the fires of hell to be rid of you.”
“I do not believe that for one moment, Emma. You. Need. Me. And yet, you might get your wish anyway, little girl.”
1940. Bacalar, Southern Mexico
“For the love of all things big and small, which way?” The towering naked god stood alone in the middle of the dense jungle, dripping like a wet dog.
Silence. Not even the waking birds lifted a beak to clue him in.
Votan growled. He didn’t have time for petty games. Not when there was killing to do and not when he was in a hurry to return home. Or, more accurately stated, in a hurry to get the hell out of his weak humanlike form. It was nothing shy of annoying.
“Amusing, Cimil. Very amusing. Just remember, I never forget. And worse, I never forgive,” he barked into the air above him.
The goddess Cimil, who was on point as his lookout, delighted in tormenting others, and sometimes she simply went too far. Just yesterday, for example, she’d taunted him mercilessly after she had another vision. True to her sadistic nature, she disclosed only enough information to bring about his suffering. She said a female would soon enter his life and emasculate him. “At this very moment…” She chuckled and clapped. “… I’m watching the future version of you in my head, Votan, as you grovel and pine for her.” She sighed. “Good times. Good times.”
Who was this woman from Cimil’s vision? And what sort of powers would she possess? Cimil would not say, but for any female to control him, she’d have to be a force of nature. The thought perturbed him greatly.
He responded by telling Cimil she was a “head case”—an odd colloquialism he learned from her—which she was, but she also struck the fear of the gods into him; everyone knew that Cimil’s visions were never wrong.
“Well,” he said aloud to himself, “one must face fate head-on.”
The cloudless sky rolled with thunder in response.
“We’ll just see who gets the last laugh.” Votan placed one hand on his bare hip, tapping his fingers impatiently, his golden skin glistening with drops of water. He’d already wasted far too much time climbing out of the wet, slippery portal.
Cenotes, as the Mayans once called them, were deep limestone pools. They were also the only portals to the human world. The active ones, hidden deep in the jungle or veiled inside stalactite-covered caves, were connected to the River of Tlaloc, an underground current of energy flowing between the two worlds. Cenotes were an extremely inefficient way to travel, but they were the only choice.
He looked back up at the sky, trying to gauge the time of day and how many hours of sunlight he had left. He sidled up to a tree trunk and flexed his hands. His new humanlike body still felt a bit weak. Sometimes it took hours for his strength to kick in after the journey, but he didn’t want to wait. No doubt their enemies were hard at work causing mayhem. Most recently, they had found a way to shield themselves from being viewed by the gods from the comfort of their own realm. This undoubtedly meant the repugnant priests were up to their usual deadly shenanigans, like being behi. . .
—BookMaven623.wordpress.com on ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE WITH… A GOD?
“Accidentally Married to… A Vampire? remains one of the funniest paranormal novels I’ve read in a long time.”
—Indiebookspot.com
“It was fun, the pace was fast, there were laugh-out-loud funny lines, plenty of pop-culture references, and lots of very sexy moments. I am definitely going to be reading the author’s other books!”
—SarahsBookshelves.blogspot.com on Accidentally Married to… A Vampire?
“Hot sex, a big misunderstanding, and a shocker of an ending that made me want the next book in the series now! I can’t wait go back and read the other books in the series.”
—Romancing-the-book.com on Accidentally… Evil?
“5 Stars! Although I closed my eyes during the steamy scenes and do not approve of the F-word, it was really quite exciting!”
—Mimi’s mother
“Mimi’s books make the naughty side come out of you.”
—Ashley Swartz
“Her books should come with a warning label. WARNING: MAY BE ADDICTING UPON FINISHING! PRESCRIPTION—MORE NAUGHTINESS FROM MIMI?”
—Ashlee Randall
“Mimi makes evil look so yummy *wink*.”
—Lupe Valdez
“It’s hard to say who’s crazier, Mimi or Cimil… One talks to voices in her head and the other talks to bugs.”
—Ally Davis Kraai
“Accidentally Evil treated me like a dog—it left me sitting here begging, panting, and wanting more treats!”
—Tami Baney
“Accidentally Evil makes me like my cat when she paws at the glass trying to eat my hamster.”
—Michaela Trott
“Reality is the fantasy world of the gods… just ask Mimi; she heard it firsthand from Cimil!”
—Cathy Swiger Lincoln
“Really??? Enough with the evil, the dead, and the crazy… No, wait, that’s the whole plotline.”
—Vania Bushman
“The evil woman knows how to turn a phrase to keep you reading. Must be a witch thing!”
—Dina Gower
Present Day
Wasn’t dating supposed to be fun? Because this was anything but. At any moment, a man I’d never met—approximately six foot three, brown hair, and soul-piercing blue eyes, according to his online profile—would walk through the door of the Conga Lounge, give his name to the hostess, and scream hysterically at the sight of me. Okay. He wouldn’t scream… aloud, anyway. Not that I was heinous, but anyone who looked closely enough might notice I was… different.
I eyeballed the door, contemplating a mad dash before he arrived.
No, you can do this, I thought, while staring at the condensation channeling down my glass of water, my leg bouncing under the table. Why had my date picked a corny-themed bar that looked like Gilligan’s Island threw up? What sort of man goes novelty on the first date?
Bad sign. Bad sign.
At least the other patrons seated around the faux torchlit room, leisurely sipping Bahama Mamas and mai tais were oblivious to my impending meltdown.
I felt the gentle whoosh of summer evening air as the door swung open, and the noise from the traffic-packed New York street poured in. A tall man with sun-kissed skin, broad shoulders, and tousled brown hair floated inside—yes, floated—as if he’d ridden in on a cloud straight from Hot Man Land. He wore a black, polished cotton shirt, which hugged his well-constructed chest, and low-slung jeans that molded to his lean physique. He wasn’t just good-looking, he was Milan runway edible.
“Oh, sweet Virgin of Guadalupe, please be Jake,” I muttered under my breath.
Like a cliché from a movie, our eyes met from across the room, and his face lit up with a dimple-framed smile. My heart nearly stopped. “Thank you, Virgin,” I said, releasing my breath.
He strutted across the restaurant, a magnet for every female in the room.
“Emma?” he said in a deep, slow-churned voice, then smiled and held out his hand. I stood up in a daze, mentally pinching myself.
“You are Emma, right? Curly, shoulder-length, red hair, five three. Several crazed female stalkers for best friends?”
Oh no. What had my roommates done? Since the whole online-blind-date thing was their idea, they assured me they’d carefully “screened” the guy. But I thought they were just joking about breaking into his apartment and rummaging through his underwear drawer. And dammit, they hadn’t even bothered to dish.
Tighty-whities or boxers?
I looked down at his outstretched hand. Oh, shoot. Shake hands. “Sorry, it’s just—I wasn’t expecting someone so…” I swallowed and placed my palm in his. It was warm and inviting, like his eyes. “Um… so tall.”
“And I wasn’t expecting a woman so”—he paused to look me over like a dog eyeing a giant juicy steak—“adorable.”
“Adorable?” said the deep male voice inside my head. “What kind of moron compliments a woman with the word adorable? Does he think you’re a goddamned puppy?”
Couldn’t I have one, just one lousy day without the voice? My blood began to boil instantly, but I resisted the urge to snap back with something lame like, “Well, maybe Jake senses I want to lick him from head to toe. Maybe even have a go at his leg.” But then I thought better of myself. Because tonight, I was on a mission, and nothing would stop me from climbing my own mental Mount Everest: convince myself that I, Emma Keane, could feel attraction for a real live man with ten fingers, ten toes, arms and legs, and the other necessary, dangly bits needed to make a relationship normal. All I needed was the right man.
The catch?
The other person I had to prove this to wasn’t exactly a person. Okay, truth be told, he was a mysterious voice only I could hear. Yes, a luscious, deep, velvety voice so intriguing and seductive it could turn me into a quivering mindless puddle of need with one little sigh. I couldn’t get enough of it. Sound crazy? That wasn’t the half of it. But it was why I had to do this. If I wanted a shot at normal, I had to take this first step and break this annoying, lifelong addiction.
Jake and I held hands for several moments before we sank into our wicker seats. “You must be Jake.” Stupid statement, I know, but I had forgotten all of the witty icebreakers I’d painstakingly memorized.
He nodded and continued smiling.
“So.” I paused, trying to think of something clever to say. It didn’t happen. “My friends, they didn’t do anything crazy, did they?” Other than a felony B and E?
Jake shook his head. “Aside from having me followed? No. They just sent an e-mail making it clear they’d remove both my testicles if I did anything wrong.”
I cringed inside, but at least he didn’t know about the home invasion.
“With a dull spoon,” Jake added.
The voice snickered. “I’ve changed my mind. I now officially approve of your friends.”
Jake continued, lowering his voice, “I’m glad I came. I thought your profile might have been exaggerating your looks. It didn’t.”
“What a cretin. You’re not falling for this crap, are you, Emma?”
I felt my temper percolating, but I hung on. “Thanks,” I said to Jake and then looked down at my hands.
“I hope you like this place.” He opened up the piña colada–shaped menu. “The food, I hear, is tiki-licious.”
“Right. That’s it. This date… is over!”
Percolate went to boiling over. “Jake, I’ll be right back.”
“Um, okay,” I heard him say as I stomped off to the bathroom. I slammed the door shut and checked the two small stalls.
Empty.
“You giant turd! You promised you wouldn’t talk!” I hissed. “Not a peep.”
“Well, that was before…”
“Before what?”
There was a cricket-worthy pause.
“Fine. You listen to me, Guy.” That was my latest name for him since he’d never shared his real one. “We had a deal. You promised you’d behave—”
“And you swore on your soul you’d pull the plug if I said so.”
“Oh, no, no, my friend.” I shook my finger at the air, even though he couldn’t see me. “I said I’d end the date if you sensed anything wrong.”
“Yes, and he’s clearly deranged.”
“Deranged?” I barked. “You’re un-bel-ievable! He’s said two words—”
“Eighty-five. Or was it eighty-seven? Hell, it doesn’t matter. I knew on word three there was something… off.”
“Oh my God! You’re completely full of it!” Hiccup! Hiccup! “Great. See what you did? My night is ruined.” Hiccup!
“Do you have a paper bag?” he asked.
I continued hiccuping uncontrollably. “No. Doesn’t exactly go with my new dress.” Hiccup. “Besides.” Hiccup. “That only works for hyperventilating. I’m working up to that next.”
“New dress?” he asked, his tone a notch above angry. “You didn’t wear the new green dress, did you? The tight one that shows every curve and ‘makes a man instantly hard,’ as your friend, Anne, so eloquently stated?”
The door to the restroom swung open. The woman gave me a nod as she went into one of the stalls.
Christ! I’d forgotten my wireless headset. Again. Without it, I looked like another New Yorker one step away from a Repent Now! sandwich sign. I scrounged through my matching satin evening bag and popped on my prop.
“Answer me! Did you wear the dress? After I expressly prohibited it?”
Should I tell him I secretly wish he could see me in it? No. No! What am I thinking? He could never know what went on inside my head; he’d only use my feelings against me. I hiccuped three times in quick succession. “Yes! I wore it, and it looks fabulous. You should see all the men walking around with colossal erections from looking at me!”
Just then, the woman emerged from the stall and scampered out of the bathroom. She didn’t even bother to wash her hands. Ewww, I thought.
“You play with fire, little girl.”
“No! You play with…” I couldn’t think of anything meaty to say. “Uuuh… fire. I’m going out there, and I’m going to finish this date whether you like it or not. And if you make one more peep, just one more, you’re going to… uh… get burned!” I so need to work on my threat technique. “Got it?”
“And if I don’t do as you say?”
Again, I came up empty in the threat department, so I threw out, “I’ll go home with Jake and sleep with him! That’s right. Wild monkey sex, too! Hanging from the chandelier and everything.” Does Jake even have a chandelier? I’ll have to ask.
He growled. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me! Not one more peep!” I smoothed down my curls, hiccuped five more times, then took a deep breath, and headed out into the dining area. The woman from the bathroom caught my eyes for a brief moment before looking toward her date and leaning in to whisper something. Her companion shot me a quick judgmental glance over his shoulder. I resisted blurting out that his date was disgusting and had cooties on her hands. Instead, I lifted my chin and walked over to the table where Jake was sitting back, completely unaware of the turbulence he’d invited into his life.
That’s when the tsunami of guilt hit me.
I stopped and looked down at Jake, the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in real life.
“Everything okay?” he asked, obviously wondering why I hadn’t taken my seat.
Jake’s online profile said he was looking for someone special, someone to settle down with. That someone wasn’t me. How could it be? I was… complicated. My heart was trapped in some sort of bizarre purgatory, attached to a voice. Or, more accurately stated, attached to the endless images and fantasies my mind had conjured up to go with the stupid voice.
I couldn’t go on with the date. There was simply no point. I had to get rid of Guy, or there would be no normal. No boyfriends. No husband. No wild monkey sex.
I hiccuped twice, making Jake jump in his seat.
He stifled a smile. “Oh, here. Try drinking some water.”
I smoothed down the front of my dress, barely holding on to my tattered self-esteem. “I’m sorry, Jake, but you don’t want me. I’ve got so much baggage even JFK couldn’t handle it. But it was nice meeting you, and I hope you find that special someone.”
Jake stared blankly and then nodded slowly.
I bolted outside onto the bustling street filled with people enjoying their Friday night, living their lives while I continued hiccuping uncontrollably.
“Emma, I’m glad you came to your senses. All this bickering is tiresome, especially when you know I’m right. That male was despicable. Why do you even bother to challenge me?”
That’s when the doors flew off.
“You’re a horrible, egotistical caveman! I’m done! Do you hear me? Done! You. Have. Got to leave!”
Several couples scurried past me. Although I was pretending to be talking to someone on my headset, I still looked like a detonating atom bomb in a green dress, mushrooming with toxic radiation.
“I’m not going anywhere, Emma. Besides, what would you do without me?”
“You can’t be serious!”
“Why the hell not? If it weren’t for me, some sleazeball would be using you for his sexual pleasure at this very moment. Is that what you truly want?”
“Yes! Wait. No…” I sighed. “Don’t you get it?” I need to move on. I need a normal life. I can’t keep obsessing over you, I wanted to add and thanked my lucky stars Guy could not read my thoughts.
“Once again, you ask this ridiculous question. The answer is no! I do not ‘get it.’ I do not ‘get’ your determination to throw yourself into situations that will only cause trouble. And as long as I exist, I have vowed to protect you… even if it’s from yourself.”
“Protect me?” That was always his fallback line, but he never could explain why that was even necessary. What the hell did I need protection from? “You’re not protecting me, you’re hurting me and keeping me from having an actual life! And if you’re not going to tell me why, there’s nothing left to talk about.”
“I’ve still got plenty to say, little girl.”
“No! This is over! Do you hear me? I’m ending this.” I stepped off the curb into the crosswalk, continuing to stomp my way home, determined to find the answer to my million-dollar question: How, dammit, would I get rid of him? I’d researched exorcists, psychotherapy drugs to block him from my mind, and shock treatment, but nothing gave me hope of extracting him without exposing myself and being locked away in a white padded room. Just then, from the corner of my eye, I saw a set of lights barreling down on me and felt my body fly through the air before everything went dark.
“Guy? What happened? Where am I?” I said aloud. I spun several times, looking up, down, in every direction. I was perched on a large balcony jutting from the face of a decadent three-story villa carved into a lush green hillside. Like a fortress, I thought. I feel safe here.
“Emma, honey? Can you hear me?” a familiar female voice called from beyond the rolling hills.
My head snapped up, canvassing the terrain. I saw nothing but miles of neatly groomed vines heavy with burgundy grapes and almost as beautiful as the red-and-pink bougainvillea bowing over the towering arched windows at my sides. Every inch of the place was breathtaking. But where was I? Heaven. Yes, must be heaven.
“Emma, please, baby. Come back.” The voice carried on the wind. It was my mother I finally realized, but I didn’t want to leave.
Just then, a low hum tumbled down the hills like an invisible avalanche and began sifting into the air around me, vibrating like a swarm of angry bees. The noise roared inside my head.
I cupped my ears and doubled over, but the sound only amplified. My skull quaked with pain as the buzzing burrowed deep inside and settled in my bones, causing me to collapse into a quivering heap. I could have stayed like that for minutes, hours, or days. Who knows? But when that luscious voice came crashing through the layers of crippling noise, I clung to it like a life raft. It was a voice so soothing, so deep and hypnotic that every cell in my body fluttered with euphoria.
Then the voice began humming, a message embedded in the melody, “Please, my sweet, do not leave me. I’m sorry.” The voice repeated the same message over and over again, yet never paused from the melody.
Wait. I recognized that song. It was—it was from… Madame Butterfly!
“Oh, God. No! Go away!” My eyes flew open. I wanted to scream, but tubes were wedged in my mouth and throat. I gagged and clawed, then heard ear-piercing beeps and screeches.
My parents, with ghostly pale faces, hovered over me, yelling for the nurse. I was in the hospital, and not just any hospital, but the one where my parents practiced. The powder-blue walls were unmistakable.
“Emma! Baby!” My mother slid the tube from my mouth, threw herself over me, and sobbed with joy.
I winced as someone flipped on the blinding lights directly above. “What happened?” I managed to croak.
My mother’s bloodshot brown eyes told me it was something catastrophic. “You were hit by a cab, honey,” she said as she smoothed the hair back from my forehead. “The driver said you just… came out of nowhere.”
Oh. That. “I was distracted.” By an evil, disembodied dictator who’s hijacked my head, I wanted to add.
“Yes, Dr. Keane?” The nurse entered the room through a panel of pale blue curtains and gasped, her eyes wide. She scrambled to my side and began prodding while my parents moved aside and began hugging each other, crying.
“How long was I out?” I grumbled to the nurse, who checked my vitals.
She gave me a nervous look before she flashed a light in my eyes. “One month.”
One month? I’d been out one whole month? I wiggled my toes under the beige blanket covering my lower legs. My body was stiff and sore, but nothing felt broken.
“Blunt head trauma with no signs of brain activity. You were in a coma, but you beat the odds, young lady,” the nurse elaborated, checking my IV drip. “A true miracle.”
The word miracle jarred me. Was it really? Had getting hit by a cab and being in a coma been the magic key to getting rid of Guy? I remembered the dream I’d had before waking up, but it could have been just that, a dream.
I mentally held my breath, hoping the universe had taken pity on me, while the nurse spent the next few minutes observing me like a lab rat before she turned to my still-sobbing parents, who were alternating between hugging each other and making calls on their cells to family.
“Can I speak with you both outside for a moment?” the nurse asked. “I need you to fill out some paperwork.”
Frantic, they each kissed me on the forehead. “We’ll be back in two seconds, baby,” my mom sputtered. “I love you. Oh, thank God you’re okay. We—I, we just love you so much, honey. We’ll be right back.”
“I love you guys, too,” I mumbled.
They disappeared behind the curtain out into the hall. The heavy door made a loud thug! as it closed behind them.
“Emma?”
Crap! I jumped. “Holy Virgin of Guadalupe, not you.” I covered my face with my hands.
“We have some unfinished business to discuss, you and I.”
“Go away,” I mumbled with a raspy voice. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”
“In fact, no. I cannot, nor do I truly wish to.”
“Why did it have to be a cab?” I hissed. “Where’s a red double-decker when you need one?”
“Please, my sweetness, do not say such things. Do you know they were ready to pull the plug and dice you into tiny pieces like a pig at the butcher? Damned organ harvesters. It took every ounce of energy I had to bring you back.”
How awful that must have been for my parents. They were both doctors. So if they’d made that choice, it was because they had lost any hope for me. “Don’t act like my savior. You did this to me.”
There was a long pause. “And now I see that you were right… this cannot go on.”
Could he be saying what I thought? “You’re going to leave?” I whispered. A tiny part of my heart protested; the rest of me rejoiced at the notion.
“Not exactly.”
The ratio of protest to rejoice flip-flopped. “What, then?”
There was another long pause, and that’s when I noticed my ears were ringing. No, they were vibrating.
“I cannot leave you, but you can free me.”
“Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
I shook my head from side to side. Maybe it was a side effect from the head injury, but I could’ve sworn I’d just heard voices. No. No frigging way! No more voices. Uh-uh. I refused to buy any more real estate in Crazytown. “Never mind. What did you say?”
“Free me.”
He was serious. I could hear it in his voice. I didn’t bat an eyelash. He was actually offering me a chance to get rid of him? To get my life back? “What will I have to do?”
“Travel south.”
“Florida?”
“Mexico.”
“Sorry?”
“Mexico. You know, that little country on the map below yours. Home of tequila and the taco.”
“I don’t understand. Why there?”
“That is where I am, physically.”
Holy crap. “You have”—I swallowed hard—“a body?”
“Is something wrong with your hearing? Yes, I have a body, and you are to go to the jungle and find it.”
Holy pickles. This entire time I thought he was some nomadic soul who’d glommed on to me for kicks.
My head began to spin. What did he look like? What if he was like one of those images my mind had dreamed up on hundreds of occasions? There was the one where he stood like a pillar of destruction, donning ancient armor, overlooking a cliff, the wind ripping through his wild ropes of black-as-midnight hair. Then there was my personal favorite where he lay nude across a plush velvet couch next to a fire, his abs rippling under bronzed skin, with golden waves of hair draping down his shoulders as he waited for me.
What was I thinking? Did I have brain damage? Was I really worrying about what he’d look like? “What exactly are you?”
“You are in no danger from me.”
“How reassuring. Really. Don’t suppose you’re going to tell me more? Species might be nice. Or how it’s possible your body is in the Mexican jungle yet I can hear you?”
“Those points are not open for discussion.”
Of course not. Why should I believe he’d make this easy? “You wouldn’t happen to look like a troll or have a body covered in giant warts?” At a minimum I hoped he’d be uglier than sin because that might help end my irrational, unhealthy obsession. Or perhaps not. Because as shameful as it was to admit, something about Guy overrode every ounce of logic known to Emma-kind, which absolutely scared the hell out of me, especially since he was only in my head.
He sighed in that special tone, which sounded more like a groan and made my toes curl. “Not even close.”
Dammit. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who the hell you really are,” I said.
He let out a soft, arrogant chuckle, as if he already knew he’d get what he wanted without any concessions. “Rest, my sweet. You need to heal. There’ll be time later to make our plans, but I am truly sorry for putting you in this position when I am supposed to protect you.”
“Protect me from what? Tell me, dammit.”
Silence.
“For once, just answer me!” I demanded.
“For starters, yourself.”
“I’m a grown woman. I don’t need a babysitter.” Except around bright yellow taxis.
“Heads, Emma. Frozen heads. Twenty of them in his fucking freezer. The bastard.”
“Now is not the time for a deranged haiku, Guy.” He always did have a bad, bad sense of humor.
“Not a haiku, Emma. That male you went on a date with, Jake. They found heads in his freezer. He was a serial killer.”
“I—I don’t believe you.” I cupped my hands over my mouth. I would have gone home with Jake if he’d asked. Not that I was easy, but I’d been so desperate to make a stand against Guy, and Jake was too hot.
“Just ask your friend, Anne. She was here visiting and spoke of it.” His tone was smug, too smug. “I saved your life. Twice.”
I suddenly felt sick. Not because of the heads, mind you—although that was certainly gross. But because if Guy was telling the truth about Jake being off, which I seriously suspected he had been, then he was also telling the truth about protecting me from that something else he kept alluding to. I was in danger, but from what? Bastard. It was my life. Why wouldn’t he tell me what was going on? “Fine. Maybe you’re right about Jake, but I don’t care. I’d face the fires of hell to be rid of you.”
“I do not believe that for one moment, Emma. You. Need. Me. And yet, you might get your wish anyway, little girl.”
1940. Bacalar, Southern Mexico
“For the love of all things big and small, which way?” The towering naked god stood alone in the middle of the dense jungle, dripping like a wet dog.
Silence. Not even the waking birds lifted a beak to clue him in.
Votan growled. He didn’t have time for petty games. Not when there was killing to do and not when he was in a hurry to return home. Or, more accurately stated, in a hurry to get the hell out of his weak humanlike form. It was nothing shy of annoying.
“Amusing, Cimil. Very amusing. Just remember, I never forget. And worse, I never forgive,” he barked into the air above him.
The goddess Cimil, who was on point as his lookout, delighted in tormenting others, and sometimes she simply went too far. Just yesterday, for example, she’d taunted him mercilessly after she had another vision. True to her sadistic nature, she disclosed only enough information to bring about his suffering. She said a female would soon enter his life and emasculate him. “At this very moment…” She chuckled and clapped. “… I’m watching the future version of you in my head, Votan, as you grovel and pine for her.” She sighed. “Good times. Good times.”
Who was this woman from Cimil’s vision? And what sort of powers would she possess? Cimil would not say, but for any female to control him, she’d have to be a force of nature. The thought perturbed him greatly.
He responded by telling Cimil she was a “head case”—an odd colloquialism he learned from her—which she was, but she also struck the fear of the gods into him; everyone knew that Cimil’s visions were never wrong.
“Well,” he said aloud to himself, “one must face fate head-on.”
The cloudless sky rolled with thunder in response.
“We’ll just see who gets the last laugh.” Votan placed one hand on his bare hip, tapping his fingers impatiently, his golden skin glistening with drops of water. He’d already wasted far too much time climbing out of the wet, slippery portal.
Cenotes, as the Mayans once called them, were deep limestone pools. They were also the only portals to the human world. The active ones, hidden deep in the jungle or veiled inside stalactite-covered caves, were connected to the River of Tlaloc, an underground current of energy flowing between the two worlds. Cenotes were an extremely inefficient way to travel, but they were the only choice.
He looked back up at the sky, trying to gauge the time of day and how many hours of sunlight he had left. He sidled up to a tree trunk and flexed his hands. His new humanlike body still felt a bit weak. Sometimes it took hours for his strength to kick in after the journey, but he didn’t want to wait. No doubt their enemies were hard at work causing mayhem. Most recently, they had found a way to shield themselves from being viewed by the gods from the comfort of their own realm. This undoubtedly meant the repugnant priests were up to their usual deadly shenanigans, like being behi. . .
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Accidentally In Love With...A God?
Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
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