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  The Matchmaker

  A Playing Dirty Romantic Comedy

  Pamela DuMond

  Pamela DuMond Books

  The Matchmaker: A Playing Dirty Novel Copyright © 2018 Pamela DuMond ~ All rights reserved.

  The above book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  No parts of these books may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any other means, without written permission of the author, except in the use of brief quotations used in articles or reviews. You can contact the author at www.pameladumond.com .

  ISBN13: 978-1985100275

  ISBN: 1985100274

  Photography by © Regina Wamba at MaeIDesign.

  Published by Pamela DuMond Books

  Also by Pamela DuMond

  ROMANCE

  The Crown Affair

  The Prince’s Playbook (#1)

  Playing Dirty Romantic Comedy Standalones

  The Client

  The Matchmaker

  Royally Wed Romantic Comedy Series

  Part-time Princess (#1)

  Royally Wed (#2)

  Royally Wed: The Poser (#3)

  Royally Wed: The Cock-Up (#4)

  Playing Sweeter Romantic Comedy Standalones

  Ms. Match Meets a Millionaire

  Mr. Cupid Takes a Holiday

  Mortal Beloved Time Travel Series

  The Messenger (#1)

  The Assassin (#2)

  The Seeker (#3)

  Standalones

  The Story of You and Me

  MYSTERY

  Annie Graceland Cozy Mysteries

  Cupcakes, Lies, and Dead Guys (#1)

  Cupcakes, Sales, and Cocktails (#2)

  Cupcakes, Pies, and Hot Guys (#3)

  Cupcakes, Paws, and Bad Santa Claus (#4)

  Cupcakes, Diaries, and Rotten Inquiries (#5)

  Cupcakes, Bats, and Scare-dy Cats (#6)

  Cupcakes, Bars, and Rock Stars (#7)

  Cupcakes, Spies, and Despicable Guys (#8)

  NON-FICTION

  Staying Young: Simple Techniques to Look and Feel Young

  About The Matchmaker

  DESCRIPTION:

  A sexy, standalone Rom-Com from USA Today bestselling author Pamela DuMond.

  Aiden Black thought he’d left his past behind when he abandoned the church. He channeled his desire to help others by creating WGA -- Chicago’s premiere matchmaking agency. Aiden’s the expert at finding true love for his clients but he’s put his own needs on hold for a Very. Long. Time.

  Violet Accardi doesn’t want to settle down and be a Mafia princess – she’s busy building her own sportswear company. Problem is her family’s a bit controlling: Mom wants grand babies. Uncle Vincent promised Violet’s hand in marriage to the son of a rival family and attempts to kidnap her at the WGA Christmas party.

  Aiden shuts down the first kidnapping attempt by pretending to be Violet’s fiancé. He’s smoking hot, such a gentleman, and their chemistry is through the roof. Violet wonders what could it hurt to pretend to be in love with a gorgeous, classy, romantic guy -- for just one night?

  But Uncle Vincent calls their bluff, popping them both on a private jet headed to the Accardi home in Sicily for the holidays.

  Life for Violet and Aiden is about to become more complicated...

  PRAISE for Pamela DuMond Books:

  “Funny, witty, and hot, hot, HOT! The Client is a steamy blend of heart-warming romance and flirty humor.” ~ Ann Charles, USA Today Bestselling Author.

  “The Client is hot and tempting.” Catherine @ Catty Jane Book Lovers

  “A captivating love story; simply have no words to describe how beautiful it is.” Sofia Beddable Reads

  "Lots of feels, terrific secondary characters, drama, comedy, angst, this book has it all!" ~ Melissa P. - A. Reviewer

  “Sexy, effervescent banter and a second-chance romance with surprising depth. I loved The Client, and I think you will too!” Mia Hopkins Author

  "The perfect balance of funny (like laugh out loud funny), witty, and sexy (sosohot)." ~ Sweet Red Reader

  For Sadie Gilliam

  Proud of you, girl!

  Contents

  Also by Pamela DuMond

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek of The Client

  Sneak Peek of The Prince’s Playbook

  Sneak Peek of Part-time Princess

  Sneak Peek of Royally Wed Box Set

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Pamela DuMond

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Aiden

  “Bless me Father for I have sinned…”

  I swirled my bourbon in the short crystal glass, took a long sip, and glanced around the room. Platters of colorful food were lined up on two banquet tables, the aromas of sauces, freshly baked breads and spices wafting through the air. A ten-foot-tall Christmas tree sparkled in the corner. White Glove Matchmaking Agency’s holiday party at Positano Trattoria was in full swing. Clients, friends, and employees laughed, flirted, and enjoyed themselves. Everything looked perfect. And yet I could feel in my bones that something wasn’t right.

  This was the agency’s night to shine. With the exception of Valentine’s Day, this was our Super Bowl. I co-owned this business with my sister and her wife, but they were silent partners. I chose the venue and the menu, and selected who was on the guest list. This year, at the urging of my therapist, I ceded some control, delegating the selection of the Christmas tree and the music to my assistant.

  If the stars aligned tonight guests’ eyes would meet and linger, sparks would flicker, and a match would be made from among our exclusive roster of brilliant, beautiful, and moneyed members. Within a year I’d be attending an upscale wedding and paying the agency’s bills with a bonus check from the client who had found true love as a result of our expertise.

  Everything was going according to plan until a petite, raven-haired beauty threw a punch at a beefy, red-faced guy twice her size. Her fist connected with his jaw but he barely flinched. He just stood there and blinked, appearing as dense as an over-cooked meatloaf.

  “Not very ladylike,” the muscle head said to the young woman. “Come with me.”

  “No,” she said, and strode away, her cocktail dress swirling. He followed, breathing meatloaf fumes down her neck.

  Damn.

  Physical fights were a thing of my past. I’d had my share of back alley scuffles when I was a kid before I’d entered the church. But fist fights didn’t happen at White Glove events. I placed my glass on the bar and pushed my way through the crowd toward the young woman.

  A guy slurred and raised his glass his glass in my direction. “Awesome party, Mr. Snack.”

  “Name’s Black.” I said, edging past him and throng of partygoers. Ahead of me, the bruiser clamped one beefy hand on the petite woman’s shoulder. Shivers raced up my arms. Should I call the cops?

  “Vaffanculo!” The woman swiveled and kneed the bully in the balls. His face turned green, then he groaned and keeled over clutching his groin.

  Pe
rhaps she was used to taking care of herself.

  A few well-coiffed heads swiveled in their direction. Several people looked on with expressions that seemed to say, ‘Who’s in charge of this party?’

  Right.

  That would be me.

  I reached for my phone to alert security, when a woman whose boobs threatened to explode out of her low-cut dress seized my arm and slurred, “The appetizers are divine, Aiden.”

  “You’re welcome.” I shrugged out of her grasp and continued my path toward the fireball in the cocktail dress with the mean right hook. I racked my brain trying to remember who she was. The guests attending tonight’s bash included employees, friends, clients, and their spouses and dates. The gorgeous girl looked familiar. Client? Friend of a client?

  Fuck.

  I needed to update details and photos in my phone. Have this information just one Siri question away.

  Beauty backed away from the beast, her velvet skirt swishing around her shapely calves. She shook her finger at him. “Don’t you ever, Salvatore—and I mean ever—try and kidnap me at a party again.”

  Kidnap? Maybe I should call the cops. Yeah, that had never worked out all that well for me in the past.

  I kept pushing forward as Bing Crosby crooned “White Christmas” from invisible speakers. Appearing as if out of nowhere, my assistant shoved a squat glass in my hand. “Merry Christmas Mr. Black!” Hailey knocked back her shot. “Your turn!”

  “Merry Christmas, Hailey!” I slugged it back, handed her the glass, and continued to elbow my way through the crush until I had a clear view of the beauty and the thug.

  “Signorina Accardi,” the man said, running his fingers over his front teeth, I assumed to make sure they were all there.

  I squinted. They weren’t.

  “Ms. Accardi,” she said, backing away from him.

  He loomed over her. “Miss Accardi.”

  He was huge, looked threatening, and the blood was pounding in my ears. Beat. Beat. Beat. Something primal and masculine surged inside me and my throat tightened with the need to save this girl. I was torn between throwing myself between them or just going old school and tackling this asshole.

  “Ms. Violet Accardi,” she said. “Not Signorina. Definitely not Miss.”

  The ogre snapped his fingers. “Your uncle instructed me to bring you to him.”

  She shook her head. “Uncle Vincent does not get to decide what I do or don’t do.”

  I’d heard that name before. Vincent Accardi, reputed mobster, had stopped by our office a few weeks ago, trying to buy off Violet’s contract with White Glove Agency.

  “You are to meet your betrothed. Don’t make problems.”

  She stamped her stiletto heel. “I am not meeting some random guy Uncle Vincent wants me to marry. Besides, do you even know where we are? Hello? White Glove Agency holiday party? I signed up for a matchmaking service. How do you know I haven’t met the right man already?”

  “I would know. Everyone in your family would know if you’d met the man you were supposed to marry. Your mother would stand on top of her roof, bang the soup pot with a spoon and announce it to the entire neighborhood.”

  “Wrong. Mom stopped doing that when Robbie got engaged to Cheryl.”

  “So, fiery,” he said, fanning his face.

  “So, stupid,” the young woman said. “Mom slipped, lost her footing, and slid down the fucking roof. Thank God she caught herself on the overhang or I would have been attending her funeral instead of holding her hand after meniscus surgery.”

  He crossed himself.

  “She promised me, ‘Violet, if I don’t die on this stupid, cold, hard table with an ugly cap on my head that’s totally not my color, never again will I climb onto the roof and bang a pot. I’ll just post the news on Facebook.”

  “Still fiery,” the thug said.

  I squirmed through the last of the people who had been sneaking glances at the pair, but for whatever reason hadn’t intervened. I caught my breath and stared at her.

  Violet was mid to late twenties, petite, and in great shape. She was short, a little curvy, and her thick brunette hair twisted into a soft updo secured with a rhinestone pin. Her lips were ruby red.

  I strode to her side. “Violet. Sorry I’m late.” I took her hand, raised it to my mouth, and brushed my lips against the inside of her wrist. Her skin was soft, like the velvet on her dress, her perfume sexy and intoxicating.

  She squinted at me. “Right…”

  “Always your Aiden, my darling.”

  She arched one eyebrow toward her hairline suggestively “You’re not just late, Aiden. You’re horribly late. Where have you been?”

  “Busy putting out fires. Making sure the drinks were flowing, the food was on track, and the party perfect.”

  She stared at me, a hint of a smile tugging up the corners of her lips. “Is it?”

  Beauty was a risk taker and frankly that was a turn on.

  I stared down at her, my dick waking up, throbbing against the confines of my dress pants. Beat. Beat. Beat. “It is now. Now that I’m with you.”

  Salvatore glared at me. “Who are you?”

  “You’ve never met?” Violet asked. “Might I introduce you to my favorite man in all of Chicago?” She swiveled and leaned into me. She stood on her tiptoes, her skirt brushing against my legs, causing a chill to zip down my spine before it detoured into my cock and then my balls.

  She kissed me and my heart plummeted. Her mouth was soft, her breath warm. The long, silken strands of her hair brushed across my face. I inhaled deeply. I was tempted to put one hand behind her narrow waist and draw her flush against me. But she pulled away, and stared up at me expectantly with large, chocolate eyes.

  “Oh, Violet. You remembered the favorite part of my day.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Kissing you, love. The favorite part of my day will always be kissing you.”

  “Oh.” She blinked.

  I extended my hand to the beefy man who towered over me. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”

  He stared at my hand like I had leprosy. “How do you know Violeta Accardi?”

  “You haven’t heard the news? I’m the luckiest man in Chicago. Maybe the entire world. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Aiden Black. Violet’s fiancé.”

  Chapter Two

  Violet

  It felt good now to be safely ensconced at a high top table in the middle of the party after my new ‘fiancé sent Uncle Vincent’s thug packing. I shared the space with my lookalike cousin, Rosalia and a cute blonde, Tyler Gentry, who obviously had the hots for her while Aiden went to the bar to get us drinks. I’d promised my mom at least five thousand times before I brought my cousin to White Glove’s holiday party that I’d properly chaperone her.

  Rosalia was visiting from Sicily. She’d arrived a month ago. Family rumors ran rampant about the dangerous liaisons Rosalia entered into with powerful, inappropriate men back in Sicily. She’d been sent here on a time-out. She needed to calm down. However, Rosalia was whip smart; a typical Accardi mobster. Instead of stealing lives, she stole hearts. I was a nerd, a geek, my head stuck in my business, and maybe if I were lucky, some day I could learn something from her.

  Rosalia didn’t speak a lot of English, which, technically, should have made my job easier. I could order her around. Keep her under my thumb, but I quickly learned language was no barrier for Rosalia. She was indeed an incorrigible flirt, fluent in the universal language of love, which never needed translating. Her delicate hand placed on a man’s forearm, and a demure batting of her thick, black eyelashes made her appear helpless and adorable. She played men like pianos. She’d run her hands up the keys, build with a few chords, ahead of the grand finale, where she’d press into their shoulders while simultaneously squeezing her tits together. The lucky recipient would then feel her warm and voluptuous side boob against his arm.

  Dare I hope she’d meet someone of a higher caliber at tonight�
��s party? Tyler Gentry was cute and I hoped on the prowl for a wife, not simply a roll in the hay. Or was I fooling myself? I should have paid more attention to his and Rosalia’s flirtation, but I kept sneaking peeks at Aiden Black, the beautiful man who’d stepped in and rescued me from my uncle’s favorite thug.