Bøker av Robyn Peterman

The rich bloodsuckers don't want to pay taxes. Too bad, so sad. They're the least of my problems right now. At the wise suggestion of my beloved mate, I indulge in a little retail therapy so I don't dismember the pissed off crew of greedy Vamps who don't want to pay their fair share.How could a trip to the happiest place on earth aka Target go wrong?Let me count the ways...Martha and Jane want to ride in the cart.Vinnie convinces me to buy chicken potholders because everyone needs poultry inspired oven mitts. Most horrifying? I've run into the most dastardly and most boring enemy yet, and they've turned my happy place into a nightmare.Their diabolical powers have already put Ethan into a trance, and I'm next on their list.I'm going to have to rely on my unconventional crew, Martha, Jane, Vinnie and some undead mimes hopped up on caffeinated blood, if I want to kick ass and end this supernatural snoozefest. Adding my untrustworthy, homicidal sister to the mix might end in catastrophe, but it's a case of the Devil made me do it.Disaster has struck again, but I'll handle it on my terms-fashionably and with no mercy. May the best Vamp stay awake long enough to win... and let it be me.

I need a new freakin' job. It's not what you think. 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. As luck would have it, 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? With my hunky mate, insane Granny and flamboyant Dwayne by my side, we have no choice but to succeed. If we don't, the reveal of our existence to the human world is imminent. We are Shifters. Werewolves. WTF. Shift Happens all the time. But this time, we're making sure only good shift goes down.

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 hoard 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. What in hell does a Dragon Princess have to do to find a mate? Offing my father, the reviled Dragon King, would be one way to go. He has a penchant for eliminating any male who shows interest-not to mention he's been trying to kill me for almost 500 years. So my brilliant plan is to take out my father in a blaze of glory-pun intended. However, I have to suck it up and do some stuff I don't want to do. For example, getting along with Dragons who don't trust me is a horrific challenge even though we share the same goal. That's why I aligned myself with the rag tag pack of shifters who accepted me and my secret treasure unconditionally. They're my friends now and I'm keeping them. I'll fry anyone who dares to speak against my Werewolves, Werecows and the fabulous gay Vampyre named Dwayne. Unfortunately the Weres who love me don't have the kind of fire power I need to take out my father. To get that I have allied myself with a dangerous Dragon weyr known as The Resistance. Staying away from the sexy, pompous, fire-breathing, blow hard of a leader is turning out to be a full time job. And no... he's not even in the running for the mate. Mutual incineration would be inevitable. You see... Dragons aren't the easiest of the Were species to get along with. You can dress us up and take us out, but at the end of the day we're still the idiots who like a little friendly blood shed and sex-make that lots of sex. My life keeps getting more and more complicated, but I've run out of options. I'm about to run out of time too. I'm learning there's no where to run and no where to hide from destiny.

I never planned on going back to Hung Island, Georgia. Ever. I was a top notch Were agent for the secret paranormal Council and happily living in Chicago where I had everything I needed - a gym membership, season tickets to the Cubs and Dwayne - my gay, Vampyre best friend. Going back now would mean facing the reason I'd left and I'd rather chew my own paw off than deal with Hank. Hank the Tank Wilson was the six foot three, obnoxious, egotistical, perfect-assed, best-sex-of-my-life, Werewolf who cheated on me and broke my heart. At the time, I did what any rational woman would do. I left in the middle of the night with a suitcase, big plans and enough money for a one-way bus ticket to freedom. I vowed to never return. But here I am, trying to wrap my head around what has happened to some missing Weres without wrapping my body around Hank. I hope I don't have to eat my words and my paw.

You think your job is tedious? Try being the Harbinger of Evil for a day.I dare you... What's the Devil to do when his fire no longer burns away his sins and Fate is screwing with his... well, fate? Easy-lie, cheat, steal and dictate my questionably accurate autobiography slash romance novel to my unwilling and outstandingly rude Vampyre niece. Welcome to my Hell. A mysterious darkness is gunning for me and this time it might prevail, but I have little time to worry about that. Instead of seeking it out, I shall simply go about business as usual. If it's fated, it will find me. My list is long. Traveling to Earth to promote my bestselling romance novel at an alarming book convention where I must protect my privates from the rabid lady readers is enough to frighten even the Devil. Not to mention, I have to avoid my insane mother like the plague and catch the smart-mouthed, gorgeous soul seller on Earth-who may or may not be someone I'd like to keep. So today is a day like any other. Punishments must be doled out and chaos must be encouraged. A vacation would be lovely, but there is no rest for the weary... or the evil. Luckily I know how to have an outstanding time doing outrageously bad things. Thank Hades, I'm a handsome bastard. There is no fated happily ever after for the Prince of Darkness, no matter what ridiculous ending my niece slaps onto my autobiography. Or is there? Fate is a bitch, but she usually gets it right.

It's not nice to mess with Mother Nature. Really, it's not. 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. It's definitely not a beautiful day in the neighborhood of Purgatory... God has taken up softball and is impossible to get ahold of just when I need to chat with him about the impending end of the world. And Satan. Satan has agreed to grocery shop with me so I don't show up at his next poker game in Hell and pole dance. See I'm certain if I find the famous chef Betsy Cocker and learn to cook I can halt the end times. According to the Internet, she resides in aisle three. What I really want is to be left alone with Bill-the love of my Immortal life. And for the world to not come to a cataclysmic and fiery end because that is unacceptable. God tells me the end times aren't on his schedule, but the strange days afoot and the physical changes in Bill tell me otherwise. And I would know. Normally, I create all the strange days. There is no storm strong enough to defeat me. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm Mother Nature. I am the mother humpin' storm. And it's not over until I say it's over.

The twenty-first century is quite the horrifying eye-opener for a Vampyre warrior whose 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. I much prefer homing pigeons to the small rectangular metal box the undead of today seem to favor. Although, I am enamored with the horseless metal chariots.The good old days of skin peeling and ripping out entrails are over. So be it. I'll fit in. Getting set aflame sucks.Plus, there's a beautiful blonde who's in my every waking thought. She might not know it yet, but we're destined to be. Although, every time I cop a feel, I get my nards kneed up into my esophagus. My wooing skills might be a little rusty...Armed with the magic word, please, and the challenge of using my words instead of my sword, I shall succeed.I'm fierce.I'm fabulous.And I'm in love.

Where does a Demon go when she gets deported from Hell? Kentucky. Eden, Kentucky to be more specific-where nothing is exactly as it seems. My name is Dixie. I'm a Demon-a lousy Demon. I'm a twenty-one year old virgin and I have a battery operated boyfriend. My magic is iffy at best and downright dangerous at worst. Leaving Hell to represent my race is not high on my list of things to do. Hell was exact. Hell was simple. All I want to do is get to home base with the hotter than Hades Demon of my dreams and work on my dark side so Satan, my dad, will get off my ass. Instead I end up in Kentucky looking for the Balance of Chaos, avoiding pole dancing classes with Mother Nature and finding out my invisible friend is a silver skinned destructive weather pattern. And if that isn't craptastic enough, the damn Sword of Death is missing again and who ever has it wants the King of the Underworld dead. Seriously. With new powers emerging daily, keeping my Demon side, horniness and general disgust under wraps doesn't make it any easier to fit in with the humans. Thankfully my priorities are in line: get laid...save world...try not to blow up kitchen appliances...and get laid again. I was ready to rumble. All I want to do is go back to Hell, but with the balance of good and evil in my hands, I'm stuck in the garden of Eden. Oh well, what the Hell. Someone has to save the world before there's no world left to save. Might as well be me.

My motto-Let's get this party started. My goal-staying alive.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.Too bad, so sad. I need his help. The evil whack-job Pandora has kidnapped someone who I love and adore. That's not working for me. At all.With a grenade carrying Succubus, an Angel with a penchant for blue lipliner, a Demon with bigger boobs than sense, and Abaddon on my team, I'm going into the Darkness to save someone I can't live without.I have no clue what's coming next, but as an actress I'm not afraid to go method. I've already cried my river of tears and built a bridge to get over it. I'll cross it as a badass as I face my Immortal enemy, because in my line of work, fortune favors the Bold.

Being an undead Princess comes with baggage. And unfortunately, it's not Prada. Getting shredded in the Daily Fang, The Bloody Times and The National Dhampir is par for the course in the life of a royal Vampyre-especially mine. However, that's nothing compared to the sh%tshow unfolding in my life. My nightmares are coming true.Satan is throwing fits about changing diapers.The Baby Demons are full of cryptic messages.Martha and Jane have a sphincter obsession.There's a half-naked Demon in my closet with a mouth as foul as mine.On top of all that, we're hosting Demon-hating royal houseguests. Oh, and did I mention the Vampyre-eating-Zombies on the west coast? 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.

What does a forty-year-old former child star do when she finds out she's a Demon? A sitcom, of course. Age is just a number unless you're an actress of a certain age trying to make a comeback in La La Land. Back in the day, I was the child star of the hit show Camp Bites. Today, I'm still living it down.After a disastrous soap opera audition and getting fired from a TV show for not having a bodacious enough backside, one would think I'd be smart enough to go into real estate.Nope.Just found out from the rudest, meanest, and hottest guy alive that I'm a Demon. The jerk, also a Demon, goes by the name Abaddon-Abe to his friends.I call him Dick.He's come from the Underworld to protect me-insert laugh track-since there's a bounty on my head. Dick is not a welcome addition to my midlife madness. However, he won't go away, and now, he's my new boss.Fine. Whatever. All I ever wanted to do in my life was pretend. I can pretend to get along with Dick. I can pretend that I'm not wildly attracted to him. Not sure I can pretend I'm human anymore, or that a supernatural assassin isn't trying to cancel me, but I'm going to fake it until I make it. Or I get killed.As the Underworld turns upside down, so have the days of my life.

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.Battle the human women in sweatpants and snow boots for electronics on Black Friday. Check.Cover each palm tree in lights even though the Mermaids insist they look phallic. Check. By the way, what does phallic mean? Never mind. Check.Moving on.Weave a Christmas tale during family story time on the beach, have a family portrait made in the special sweaters I pilfered, and write a letter to Santa. I mean, fat bastard... Check.Planning activities that may end in bloodshed. Check. That's what I call a yuletide win, so check-check.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.And I am. Check.

What happens in Vegas, slays in Vegas.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.Fine. I'm always up for a plot twist or a re-write.Scene One- Save Abaddon from the evil clutches of the hideous Pandora.Scene Two - Don't die.Scene Three - Avoid Pandora like the plague. I understand she has an evil box...Scene Four - Do not die.Scene Five - Possibly meet my mom, the woman who abandoned me as a baby.Scene Six - Do Not Freaking Die.Scene Seven - Go back to my non-deadly life and win a damn Emmy for Ass The World Turns.Even though I'm living on the edge of evil, half insanity, half upheaval, I'm a pro and the show must go on.As the saying goes, a bad dress rehearsal means I don't get dismembered on opening night. Or something like that.It's showtime, folks.