It's a Fugly Life Read online

  Well, that’s something I never thought I’d see. With my mouth hanging open, I watched two completely hot men tumble around on the sidewalk in front of my first-floor apartment, trying to beat the crap out of each other.

  Yes, I did understand that the proper reaction would be to panic or feel angered by their immature behavior, but I wasn’t just anyone. Remember, I was once the girl no one looked at except with pity or disgust. Yes, I compensated with my personality and still had lots of girlfriends, but getting male attention felt alien, and this was no exception. Italy’s hottest actor and America’s sexiest bachelor were fighting over me.

  This is definitely strange. And so amazingly hot. Wait. Am I evil for thinking that?

  “an intense, utterly riveting book that I literally could not put down, that kept my heart racing.”

  —Chapter 5 on Fugly

  “Smart, heart-wrenching and wonderfully sexy, this is contemporary romance at its finest. Pamfiloff pulls expertly at the heartstrings with a sassy heroine and the most compelling hero I’ve read in years.”

  —USA Today bestselling author Lauren Layne on Tailored for Trouble

  “I would give this book a galaxy of stars if I could. It was beautiful. It was thought provoking. It was sad, funny, sexy, but most of all it was riveting. I could not put it down. Absolutely fantastic.”

  —A Goddess & Her Books on Fugly

  “Swoony, sexy, and laugh-out-loud funny! Bennett Wade is an absolutely delicious hero—and this book left me wanting more.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Laura Kaye on Tailored for Trouble

  “Pamfiloff’s skilled pacing ramps up the tension and attraction between Bennett and Taylor as they crisscross the globe together, and their consummation feels like a well-deserved payoff for them and the reader.”

  —Publishers Weekly on Tailored for Trouble

  “Mimi Jean Pamfiloff has a way with words that keeps you laughing and enjoying the story as it grips you and draws you in.”

  —Fresh Fiction on Tailored for Trouble

  COMING SOON:

  GOD OF WINE (Immortal Matchmakers Series, Book 3)

  THE TEN CLUB (The King Series, Book 5)

  AVAILABLE NOW:

  FUGLY (Standalone/Contemporary Romance)

  IMMORTAL MATCHMAKERS, INC. SERIES

  (Standalones/Paranormal/Humor)

  The Immortal Matchmakers (Book1)

  Tommaso (Book 2)

  THE FATE BOOK SERIES

  (Standalones/New Adult Suspense/Humor)

  Fate Book

  Fate Book Two

  THE HAPPY PANTS SERIES

  (Standalones/Romantic Comedy)

  The Happy Pants Café (Prequel)

  Tailored for Trouble (Book 2)

  THE MERMEN TRILOGY

  (Dark Fantasy)

  Mermen (Book 1)

  MerMadmen (Book 2)

  MerCiless (Book 3)

  THE KING SERIES (Dark Fantasy)

  King’s (Book 1)

  King for a Day (Book 2)

  King of Me (Book 3)

  Mack (Book 4)

  THE ACCIDENTALLY YOURS SERIES

  (Paranormal Romance/Humor)

  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)

  Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Copyright © 2016 by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Kindle Edition

  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)

  Development Editing by Latoya C. Smith (lcsliterary.com)

  Line Editing and Proof Reading by Pauline Nolet (www.paulinenolet.com)

  Formatting by BB eBooks (bbebooksthailand.com)

  About the Book

  Praise for Mimi Jean’s Romantic Comedies

  Other Works by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Note From Author

  Play List

  Acknowledgements

  Coming Soon

  About The Author

  Like “Free” Pirated Books?

  Then Ask Yourself This Question: WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE I’M HELPING?

  What sort of person or organization would put up a website that uses stolen work (or encourages its users to share stolen work) in order to make money for themselves, either through website traffic or direct sales? Haven’t you ever wondered?

  Putting up thousands of pirated books onto a website or creating those anonymous ebook file sharing sites takes time and resources. Quite a lot, actually.

  So who are these people? Do you think they’re decent, ethical people with good intentions? Why do they set up camp anonymously in countries where they can’t easily be touched? And the money they make from advertising every time you go to their website, or through selling stolen work, what are they using it for? The answer is you don’t know. They could be terrorists, organized criminals, or just greedy bastards. But one thing we DO know is that THEY ARE CRIMINALS who don’t care about you, your family, or me and mine. And their intentions can’t be good.

  And every time you illegally share or download a book, YOU ARE HELPING these people. Meanwhile, people like me, who work to support a family and children, are left wondering why anyone would condone this.

  So please, please ask yourself who YOU are HELPING when you support ebook piracy and then ask yourself who you are HURTING.

  And for those who legally purchased/borrowed/obtained my work from a reputable retailer (not sure, just ask me!) muchas thank yous! You rock.

  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.

  This book is dedicated to the readers who wrote and shared their own stories after reading FUGLY. You gave me a lot to think about in my own journey, and for this, I felt I owed you the rest of Lily’s story.

  No, no, no. What did he just fucking say? I stared at the ass-faced reporter blocking my way to the church. A sadistic smirk stretched across his lips while his cre
w filmed my reaction. They hoped I’d cry for the entire world on my wedding day, didn’t they?

  Maybe I would.

  “Tell us, Miss Snow, how does it feel?” He urged the cameraman closer and shoved the microphone an inch from my face. “How does it feel knowing your fiancé cheated on you last night?”

  The bastard cheated on me? The night before our wedding? I tried to blink away my tears, but his words felt like a red-hot poker through my collapsing heart. After everything that had happened, every tear shed, every moment of struggle, and the promises made, I couldn’t believe it had all led to this: emotional annihilation.

  What did you expect, Lily? Princes don’t fall for frogs. Not in real life. He wanted a beautiful life, a perfect life. He wanted a beautiful wife and beautiful babies. I couldn’t give him those things.

  I dropped my bouquet, smoothed down the front of my white dress, and lifted my chin. “It feels like shit.” I turned away from the church, ignoring the roar of the press and the clicking of cameras, leaving behind my last shred of belief in happy-ever-afters.

  Those don’t exist. They never did.

  Six Weeks Earlier

  Today was huge. Huger than huge. Okay, it wasn’t really, but I needed to remind myself that the little milestones in life were as important as the champagne-worthy events. For example, just three months ago, I’d opened my very own boutique in downtown Santa Barbara. Think eclectic, handmade clothing and accessories, sort of like that one aisle at Whole Foods with the mishmash of tie-dyed scarves and hemp bracelets. Not my lifelong dream, but my products were made by women, for women, and I loved the idea of making money while helping people. After three months, I’d gotten the helping part down, but not the making-money part. Sales were the pits, and I’d already received notice of a rent increase at the end of the year.

  You’ll figure it out, Lily. You always do. I drew a happy face on the puppies and kittens calendar stuck to the wall behind the register. It was important to stay positive and focused.

  My smile faded as it dawned on me that today also marked another event. Six months. Six months since I’d seen Maxwell Cole—cocky, SOB billionaire and quite possibly the most hypnotically sexy and complex man in the world—and asked him to forgive me for some pretty awful things I had done.

  He hadn’t.

  And it had been the roughest time of my life. Rougher than working for the man. Rougher than falling in love with him—my boss—a man so far out of my league that I hadn’t been able to believe he wanted me back. And certainly rougher than the day I effectively tanked his multibillion-dollar company. An edgy, cosmetics juggernaut he’d built with his own two hands.

  And I fucked it up.

  Yep.

  With my own two lips, aka my big fat mouth. All because I believed—erroneously—that he didn’t have feelings for me.

  Crap, Lily. I blew out a breath and ran a hand over the top of my hair, smoothing back the loose strands of my ponytail. “Stop it. Just stop it.” I’d already decided months ago to be done with the self-flagellation. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t undo the past. And either way, I’d moved on.

  “Every journey starts with one step,” I muttered to myself and put another smiley face on my calendar. And as of today, I’d made it six months. I’d put my life back together and was even dati—

  The cluster of silver bells above the front door to my tiny shop jingled to welcome the first customer of the day.

  “Welcome to Lily’s Pad. Let me know if I can help y…” I glanced up from behind the register and lost my grip on the pen in my hand. “Max?”

  “Hello, Lily.” His deep, exquisitely masculine voice washed over me like a tsunami of emotional shock.

  “Max, what are you doing here?” My eyes stuck on his face, drinking in every virile detail. Maxwell Cole wasn’t what people would call a handsome man. Handsome implied someone who might be nice looking or pleasing to look at. This infamous, thirty-four-year-old billionaire was so much more. Women saw him and couldn’t look away from his six-three frame, underwear model physique, hazel eyes and chiseled jawline that gave him a godlike appearance. It was the same stunning good looks he’d used to build his multibillion-dollar cosmetics company. He used to model in his ads. Semi-nude. Yes, total eye candy for women of every age.

  “I heard you’re hiring a part-time assistant.” He pointed to the sign in the window with one of those muscular arms I used to enjoy wrapped around my midriff when he took me from behind with his substantial co—

  Don’t torture yourself. He dumped you hard. Obviously, the man was here for a reason, although I couldn’t fathom what that reason might be.

  He continued, “I also heard you might be looking for a husband. But I don’t have any experience. Think you might consider me anyway?” He shoved a hand in his jeans pocket and looked at me with a wickedly sexy grin.

  Huh? My mind couldn’t quite absorb his words or their meaning. I was far too busy realizing how much I’d missed him and how fucking delicious he looked. He wore these expensive sexy jeans that hung just right on his hips and a dark gray button-down shirt that said, “Yeah, I’ve got money. Yeah, my body is a temple of male perfection. No, you can’t have me—I’m for looking only, ladies.” In other words, everything about the man screamed unattainable. His dark messy hair, his overgrown stubble—not quite a beard—his full kissable lips and jaw and chin and everything about him was…perfect.

  I swear, that man could wear a neon yellow jockstrap and orange traffic cone on his head and still look like he’d strolled off a runway.

  Wait. He just asked me to marry him?

  Nope. Nope. I’m dreaming. I have fallen and hit my head, and any moment I’m going to wake up with a splitting headache.

  I suddenly realized that Max’s mouth kept moving, but I hadn’t heard a word.

  “Sorry? Could you repeat that?” I blinked some more.

  He stepped forward, putting himself on the other side of the counter, opposite me. “I know I should’ve called. I wanted to a million times. But I needed time to sort out a few things.” His smile faded, and the look in his hazel eyes hardened.

  Did he mean he needed time to forgive me? I didn’t know, but clearly he had, and I felt a huge weight lift from my soul. I hadn’t even realized I’d been carrying it around.

  I nodded my head. “I understand. I did ruin your company.”

  “Fuck the company. I was going to let it all go anyway. You and I both know my mother needed to be gone from my life.” His mother, the cruelest piece of sadistic human-shit on the planet, had owned fifty-one percent of his company, making it difficult for him to keep a distance. Still, I had to believe that if not for me, things would’ve gone down differently. Maybe he could’ve found an investor to buy her out or something. But because of me, he’d been forced to sell Cole Cosmetics to a Canadian competitor for half its original value. I hated thinking about all that. It made my stomach knot with guilt.

  “You’re only saying that to make me feel less crappy,” I said softly. “That company was everything to you.”

  “No. You were everything to me and you still are. I realized it when I watched them pry your bloody body from your car with a crowbar. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

  Oh. That. It wasn’t that I’d forgotten, but I rarely thought of that day anymore. Mostly because losing Max overshadowed all of the surrounding drama. But seven months ago, right as everything blew up with his company, a news van chased me on the highway near Chicago, hoping to get a story about my relationship with my infamous boss. I plowed my convertible Mini into the center divider and made mincemeat out of my face.

  Now, before you start thinking that it must’ve left me with a horrible disfigurement, I’ll have you know two things. One, I was born with an extremely ugly face. I mean nose from hell, an unusually large chin, and—well, let’s just say that small children often cried when they looked at me. “Mommy! It’s a monster.” Think Chaka from Land of the Lost but wit
h a very petite body, nice teeth, and long wavy blonde hair. That was me.

  Now are you seeing why I couldn’t quite believe my international sex symbol of a boss loved me?

  Moving on to point number two: The accident did leave me scarred—forehead, chin, and one side of my nose—the place where the side mirror of my car broke off and impacted. But by then I had already made up my mind to fix my ugly face against Max’s wishes. Long story short, when the accident happened, Max—despite being furious with me for what I did to his company—still made sure I was put back together by the best. Now people stared but they didn’t retch, and with a little makeup, I could cover most of the scars.

  “I’m so sorry, Max. I can’t say it enough times.” Yes, I had apologized to him already—after my accident, after he’d made sure I was put back together, after he had to sell his company, and after I’d made a mess of our relationship. But my plea for forgiveness fell on cold ears. He could hardly look me in the eyes that day.

  “I’m the one who is sorry.” Max planted his arms on the counter and leaned in, his eyes filled with a sternness that meant he wasn’t messing around. “None of those events would’ve happened if I’d simply told you how much I love you and asked you to marry me. I should’ve been stronger, but I wasn’t.”

  He was taking the blame? Him? “But…but…I…you…you were so angry and…” I shook my head. I was the one who messed it all up.

  He grabbed my hand from across the counter and squeezed it. “I was hurt because you didn’t trust me, Lily. You didn’t believe in us—fuck.” He drew a breath. “I didn’t come here to rehash this crap.”

  “Remind me again; why are you here?”

  “Marry me, Lily. Because I love you. And I never want to let you go.”

  Every part of my body and soul swelled with emotion and disbelief. “You really want to marry me?” I said, trying to get it all straight in my head.

  He slid a small black box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring.