Showing results by author "Robyn Peterman" in All Categories

Word on the street is that my brother’s son was potty trained at eight months old. Unacceptable. I shall not be bested by God. I have pilfered plastic potties, Cheerios, and bagels. I am prepared to teach my boy to put the pee in the hole. All I need now is a potty song. Or so I thought. Apparently, sending Lizard to clog all the commodes in Heaven has put me in hot water with Mother Nature.

With Ethan by my side, along with new friends and a few well-hidden enemies, it’s time to adjust my crown, put a few Vampyres in their place, and kick some Zombie butt. I’m dead. Life is still good. I have unconditional love. And on most days, when I’m not covered in Zombie guts, I’m wildly fashionable. Fashionably dead, that is, and loving it.

Witches and glitches and testicle-obsessed cats...Oh my. One dilemma down and approximately 74,876,283 to go. I think being the Shifter Whisperer is hard - or Shifter Wanker as I enjoy referring to my new job - but healing wounded Shifters is easy compared to finding and eliminating the lurking freaking evil. Throw in a ghost, a potentially explosive ex-cellmate, a long lost dad and a smokin' hot werewolf who's convinced he's my mate, and suddenly it's party time - from hell. And this is my mission?

I’m desperate to resign from the Werewolf Treaty Federation aka WTF. Don’t judge. I didn’t name this crew of misfit Shifters so hear me out. After investigating a deadly Jazz Cabbage outbreak, I discover we need a necromancing demon to help solve the crime. My gay vampyre BFF, Dwayne, dated one of these gems several decades ago. Seems all we need to do is summon his evil butt into this plane of existence and poof, crisis solved. The question is, can we bring him back without causing a flesh-eating, end-of-the-world zombie apocalypse?

A movie deal for the devil's autobiography slash romance? Priceless. Maybe I should choose George Clooney to play me in the movie.... No. Too gray. As much as I can't see anyone playing me but me, I have far more important issues on my agenda - like finding the woman who stole my soul. Well, not exactly stole.... I might have made the switch and taken hers, but the siren Elle Rinoa has my soul nonetheless. Maybe Brad Pitt would be a good Lucifer.... No. Too blond.

Getting dumped by the Demon of my dreams wasn’t exactly in the game plan. Game plans suck. Throwing caution to the wind is my new motto. I used to be a semi-happily single Vampyre. As the Princess of the Australian Dominion, I have an enormous palace, a fabulous wardrobe, I don’t look a day over 30, and I have gobs of friends — most of whom would be happy to see me permanently deceased. However, they hide it well. In the violent world of the undead, I consider it a win.

How in the Goddess’s name did I get stuck at the Witchypoo Convention at Rump Arena in Hexington, Kentucky? Whoops...my bad. Rupp Arena in Lexington, Kentucky. Whatever. It’s like one cavernous indoor garage sale of “magic” crap. It’s nothing more than a convention of human wanna-be witches in pointy ankle boots and half-price black hats...Baba Yopaininmybutt sent me to root out the very evil shenanigans going down in the sea of faux witches, mummies, and vamps...Listen to find out more!

Recently, I was given my own sitcom and my forties were looking fabulous. My dreams were finally coming true—were being the operative word. Of course, just when I think I might have a grip on my newly discovered Demon status, it all goes to Hell. Literally. I’ve gone from enemies-to-lovers back to enemies with the hottest Demon alive, who also happens to be the producer on my show. What I’d like to do is never see Abaddon’s stupidly handsome face again.

I thought being a Demon sucked, but being a Demon Goddess is a whole ’nother level. Life had been so much easier when I was just a forty-year-old has-been actress trying to make a comeback in the land of Botox and BS. For the love of everything absurd, I was just getting used to being a Demon … and BAM … all of a sudden I’m supposed to be one of the two gals in charge? I mean, being the co-star of the show is great until it involves ruling the Darkness with the evil whack job who destroyed my mother.

With a show to produce and my career as an actress on the line, I really don’t have time to die—especially violently. However, while that might not be on my agenda, it seems to be on other’s. Awesome. Instead of acting in my latest endeavor, I’m playing the real-life role of Reluctant Demon Who Has To Save The World—or at the very least, the hot hero.

The love of my dastardly immortal life is eating everything that isn't nailed down and tried to behead me over a chocolate croissant. While I take chocolate croissants very seriously, I do believe decapitation is somewhat harsh. My daughters, the Seven Deadly Sins, are driving me to drink. Getting them mated off and the hell out of Hell is at the top on my agenda. The one thing that is keeping me sane - sane being a relative word - is my upcoming special day.

Three waxed cats, one Cookie Witch, a Brazilian gone bad, and the last name Bermangoggleshitz...not the best ingredients for a successful spell. Or is it? Avoiding the truth has been working out just fine for most of my life. I'm finally happy. I have friends and a kangaroo shifter who adores me. Never in my 29 witchy years did I think I would have a place to call home with people who truly cared. Now my BFF, Zelda, wants to have a chat. Can't crappy news wait?

What does a hungry, pregnant witch do when her whole freaking town goes on a no-carb diet? I'll tell you what. She goes on the sly and conjures up some anchovy-chocolate chunk cookies dipped in hot sauce - that's what. Of course my cheating gets complicated when all of the magic in the world goes on the fritz. To solve that particular wrinkle, I'll have to finally find the source of the lurking evil.

With Sassy and Cookie Witch by my side, I'll get a handle on my dark voodoo - or doodoo, as I've renamed it - so Assjacket won't end up as one massive crater. And I need all the help I can get. An evil like we've never seen is gunning for us - specifically me.

I’ve been happily human for 30 years. Now I’m discovering I’m the reincarnated Fairy Queen of a land chock-full of freaks who want me dead. However, I’ll admit the perks are pretty cool. I have more magic in my little pinky than should be allowed by law in any universe. Not to mention, the love of my life is a Fairy so smokin’ hot, he makes Hell look like a Winter Wonderland. Problem is, my hotter-than-Hades Fairy is imprisoned in Zanthia for nefarious reasons I won’t go into, but now I must head back to that crap hole where I’m the Queen, and save the damn day.

This is simply not my week. Finding out I can’t cook is appalling. My luncheon with the big-boned Immortal socialites went to Hell in a handbasket. I’ve been hoping to join the Fearsome Five and make it the Psycho Six. However, the chances of that happening now are looking slim. Of course, I could force my way in since I’m Mother freakin’ Nature, but I want to be accepted for being me - and because I’m fabulous. It’s bad enough my two sons, God and Satan, are driving me to crazy town while my best friend, Mr. Rogers, is riding in the backseat having a breakdown....

Mermaids. Check. Pirates, werewolves, genies, and a drunken sea god. Check. Check. Check. Check. Come on an adventure with my mermaids and their unlikely heroes. Get three hilarious stories all in one big audiobook!

A dare is a dare. No self-respecting, slightly chubby, good-lookin’, crime lovin’ cat would ever pass up a dare. So I didn’t. Now, me and my boys are in hot water trying to figure out how to live on the right side of the law for a whole freakin’ week! This is complicated by a couple of hairy issues. Throw in a cryptic message from the Goddess, humans invading our town and evil, sticky-fingered groundhogs, and we have a hot mess on our paws.

The 21st century is quite the horrifying eye-opener for a Vampyre warrior who's been in a magical coma for a thousand years. The Vampyre in question would be me. I’m so damned confused by the modern world, and getting electrocuted for being misogynistic—whatever that means—is getting old. It’s insanity. Apparently, there’s a species called Karens running in the wild. The Tube of You and the Book of the Faces are alarming. From what I understand, the Karens gather there.

Running a tourist trap for humans in the Bermuda Triangle had sounded like a fine plan - until it wasn’t. With the Sea Hags gunning for our island and ruining our questionably successful business, I did what any desperate Mermaid would do. I called for backup. Of course, getting help from the Otherworld Defense Agency is risky as they don’t usually deal with ocean creatures. Whatever. Desperate times call for crappy measures. Chances are they’ll send freaking Pirates. I hate Pirates.