Matchmaker, Matchmaker

Excerpt From: Matchmaker, Matchmaker

I’m going to kill him. It’s the only way to get out of this matchmaking contract, and I’m willing to do the jail time over it. Granted, I’m also betting I won’t be sent to jail. After all, I’ve matched most of the judges in the city and they adore me.

"I don’t approve of your choices." The tall werecougar loomed over me as if my picks would change if he growled a little more.

"You haven’t even met them." I held on to my temper...barely. I really longed to take my solid steel owl statue and smash it over his head.

"I will know my mate," he insisted.

"Great. Then go and meet these three women and let me know how it goes. Now, get out of my office."

A low growl rolled from his impressive chest. It was an unfair fact of life that all shifters were gorgeous. It didn’t matter what kind of animal—wolves, cats, or even the occasional rat...all gorgeous.

"No one talks to me like that." He stood over my desk, trying to intimidate me with his size and power.

I rolled my eyes and stood up. I barely came to his shoulder.

"Listen, sugar, I’m sure everyone in your clan thinks you’re the best thing since warmed milk, but I don’t take intimidation well. I gave you the names and pictures of three potential mates—go meet them. If none of them are your match then come back."

My patience, never very long to start with, vanished completely beneath his incredulous stare.

"I thought you were supposed to make me the perfect match."

"Making the perfect match is all about lining up the right people. The three women I’m setting up for you are potential mates, which means any one of them could be the right one, but it will need a combination of how far each of you are along on your personal evolution to determine a mate."

"You can’t just look at them and know?" His examined me closely with his feral gaze.

Actually, I could point out which one would be his perfect match, but people often fought against their instincts. If I pointed out girl number two, he’d go with number one or three then come back and yell at me about how they didn’t work out. It was best to let the man or woman pick. Once they met—and chose—the one I knew they would pick in the beginning, they settled down to domestic bliss.