Showing results by author "Robyn Peterman" in All Categories

Sun and naughty fun is off the docket. Eliminating deadly Dhampirs is at the top of the to-do list. Crap. How in the ever-loving heck does a bloody note written on a paper towel and rag magazines left by Satan turn into a Vamp-hunt for idiots who think creating Dhampirs to attain world domination is a smooth move? The secret life of the entire Vampyre species is now on the line.

Planning my own wedding should mean I'm having the time of my life...not defending it every time I turn around. Dragons, feral Wolves and Were Cows...I mean who in the hell knew Were Cows even existed? All I wanna do is marry Hank, have 2.5 beautiful little Werewolf babies, and live happily ever after while having sex on a very regular basis. Oh...and I still want to shoot stuff occasionally. Apparently no one got the memo.

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.

Johnson from My Big Fat hairy Wedding, Dwayne from Shift Happens and Zorro from Magic and Mayhem are hanging out together and having the time of their lives. Get ready for one wild and hilarious ride with Johnson Jones’s Diary—adventure, mistaken identities, love, fashion, belly laughs and of course, a happily ever after.

I’m bored. And if I’m being honest, I’m jealous. I want my sister to have her happily-ever-after. I do. But I want my own adventures and my own true love. For 200 years, I’ve suffered through one immortal asshat after another while stuck on Mystical Isle. And while running a tourist trap for humans might be entertaining, I’m never going to find my true love in this sea of monotony.

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.

Unlike my sisters, I haven’t found my HEA. And I’m looking - hard. But finding a man who wants to blowhole dive in Hawaii on the first date is more difficult than you might imagine. I’ve been forced to settle for a few meaningless orgasms with men who disappear when I suggest fun activities, like scaling 20 stories while blindfolded.

Poseidon is smoking some bad seaweed if he expects me to take the one job I’m obviously not qualified for. Rumor has it, Cupid is a chubby baby with a bad attitude. That’s all I need. A pissed off porcine toddler with love arrows gunning for my tail because I took his job. On top of that, the idiot I’m kind of seeing who shall remain nameless - mostly because I don’t know his name.

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?

I'm a nice girl - really I am. I'm just a typical computer-hacking, knife-throwing, Star Trek-obsessed, overeducated Werewolf nerd who can't seem to get her love life to compute. However, it's time to grow up and face the music or, more accurately, the man I'm in love with...Junior, aka Jacob Wilson - the Alpha of the Georgia Pack. First I'll have to stand up to some nasty gals whose pants are so tight I can see their religion. Then I'll claim my man.

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?

My name is Dima, and I'm a Dragon. I'm also going to die soon. It's a battle I've waged most of my life, but now the odds are looking crappy. Before I go up flames, I have to find a way to save my horde and make sure my secret treasure is safe. There is one way I could stick around a bit longer, but the men I've met aren't exactly lining up to save me.

Letting the ocean current take me where it may for the last 25 years hasn’t worked out so great. So, instead of getting my tail in a knot, I’m making some swimmingly simple changes.

What in the salty seas could be more important than presents at Christmas time? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Tis’ Christmas time on Mystical Isle, and just like the fat bastard in red, I’ve made a list, and now I shall check it...twice. Yeah, twice. I might wear a diaper, but I’m not an arse. It seems I have everything under control and Christmas on Mystical Isle will be unforgettable, or I’m not the Well-Hung God of the Sea, Poseidon.