Showing results by author "Robyn Peterman" in All Categories

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. Traveling to Earth to promote my best-selling 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.

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.

And I thought being half Vampyre/half Demon was hard.... That's nothing compared to being a mother. Sweet baby Moses in a boob tube, there aren't any books on raising True Immortals, so let me give you a few tips.... Make a map of every closet and bathroom in your home if you enjoy having sex. Sleep deprivation can cause confusion, and a map will help if you have only seven minutes and 31 seconds. You're welcome.

Going to Hell has never been on my bucket list...until now. The fact that I can speak that sentence without laughing or losing my mind is absurd. However, my life has veered into a very tricky tale that rivals any of my books. The villain has been banished. I’ve written her right into an infernal doom. Unfortunately, a few of my very dear friends, fictional and real, have been caught up in the horror story, and they’ve taken the trip down under as well. It’s my fault, and I can only see one way out...a plot twist of epic proportions.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

My name is Dixie. I'm a Demon - a lousy Demon. I'm a 21-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.

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.

Welcome to my own personal hell. Name: Heathcliff. Occupation: Vampyre Warrior - one of the deadliest in the world. I plan. I fight. I win. Always. However, it's never taken me this damned long to get what I want before. Only I would be blessed with a Vampyre mate I'd have to chase for two centuries. The chemistry between us is steamy, and the sex is sizzling, but I want more - I want it all. Now, just as I'm finally wearing Raquel down, I find I have competition, not for my mate's hand but for her very existence.

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.

Come on an adventure with my mermaids and their unlikely heroes. Get three hilarious stories all in one big book. You'll get: Book 1 - Tallulah’s Temptation; Book 2 - Ariel’s Antics; and Book 3 - Misty’s Mayhem.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

My name is Venus. I'm a 200-year old killing machine and I'm trading in my daggers and sword for a sparkly dress and an obscene swimsuit. Tiny strips of Lycra are not my typical battle wear, but when in Oklahoma... Armed with a fairly decent attitude, two debatably heterosexual insane old ladies, a woman I'd wanted to kill less than eight hours ago, and the possible love of my undead life, I'm in over my head with this. Of course I have no clue what this is going to entail, but that's never stopped me before.