Robyn Peterman

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Books By Robyn Peterman
My Midlife Crisis, My Rules: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel : Good To The Last Death Book Four
25/01/2021
$7.13
My midlife crisis. My rules. And if it doesn’t put me six feet under, I plan to live it up in style—possibly for the rest of eternity…
After a Luke Skywalker/Darth Vader moment, I discovered I do indeed have a father. He comes with a hell of a lot of baggage, but I’ve decided to keep him. Not only do I have a father, I have a kickass new sister, a ghostly family, and super powers to boot. If you add to the mix that I’m dating the Grim Reaper, it’s a freakin’ party.
The only thing standing in the way of my happiness is the Angel of Mercy, though Angel of Misery is more appropriate. She’s responsible for almost everyone I have loved, and who has loved me being taken away. With the help of family and friends, I will track her down and show her exactly what a perimenopausal hot flash looks like in action.
Job — Death Counselor — Supergluing ghosts back together and solving their issues is rewarding. For real.
Mission — Bring the seriously evil Angel of Mercy to justice without dying or getting anyone else killed in the process.
Team — A bunch of certifiable Immortals, including one who re-homes vibrators. Yes, you read that correctly.
How to do this? — Wing it. Wine, my Demon boyfriend, a houseful of deceased squatters, and good friends by my side will help.
Midlife’s a journey. I will enjoy the ride. The crisis is happening whether I’m ready or not.
After a Luke Skywalker/Darth Vader moment, I discovered I do indeed have a father. He comes with a hell of a lot of baggage, but I’ve decided to keep him. Not only do I have a father, I have a kickass new sister, a ghostly family, and super powers to boot. If you add to the mix that I’m dating the Grim Reaper, it’s a freakin’ party.
The only thing standing in the way of my happiness is the Angel of Mercy, though Angel of Misery is more appropriate. She’s responsible for almost everyone I have loved, and who has loved me being taken away. With the help of family and friends, I will track her down and show her exactly what a perimenopausal hot flash looks like in action.
Job — Death Counselor — Supergluing ghosts back together and solving their issues is rewarding. For real.
Mission — Bring the seriously evil Angel of Mercy to justice without dying or getting anyone else killed in the process.
Team — A bunch of certifiable Immortals, including one who re-homes vibrators. Yes, you read that correctly.
How to do this? — Wing it. Wine, my Demon boyfriend, a houseful of deceased squatters, and good friends by my side will help.
Midlife’s a journey. I will enjoy the ride. The crisis is happening whether I’m ready or not.
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$5.14
A Paranormal Women's Fiction with a bit of class, and a lot of sass, for anyone who feels like age is just a number!
Whoever said life begins at forty must have been heavily medicated, drunk, or delusional.
Thirty-nine was a fantastic year. I was married to the man I loved. I had a body that worked without creaking. My grandma, who raised me, was still healthy, and life was pretty damned good.
But as they say, all good things come to an end. I’d honestly love to know who ’they’ are and rip them a new one.
One year later, I’m a widow. My joints are starting to ache. Gram is in the nursing home, and dead people think my home is some kind of supernatural bed and breakfast. Gluing body parts onto semi-transparent people has become a side job—deceased people I’m not even sure are actually there. I think they need my help, but since I don’t speak dead, we’re having a few issues.
To add to the heap of trouble, there’s a new dangerously smokin’ hot lawyer at the firm who won't stop giving me the eye. My BFF is
thrilled with her new frozen face, thanks to her plastic surgeon, her alimony check, and the miracle of Botox. And then there’s the little conundrum that I’m becoming way too attached to my ghostly squatters… Like Cher, I'd like to turn back time. Now.
No can do.
Whatever. I have wine, good friends, and an industrial sized box of superglue. What could possibly go wrong?
Everything, apparently.
All in all, it’s shaping up to be a wonderful midlife crisis…
Whoever said life begins at forty must have been heavily medicated, drunk, or delusional.
Thirty-nine was a fantastic year. I was married to the man I loved. I had a body that worked without creaking. My grandma, who raised me, was still healthy, and life was pretty damned good.
But as they say, all good things come to an end. I’d honestly love to know who ’they’ are and rip them a new one.
One year later, I’m a widow. My joints are starting to ache. Gram is in the nursing home, and dead people think my home is some kind of supernatural bed and breakfast. Gluing body parts onto semi-transparent people has become a side job—deceased people I’m not even sure are actually there. I think they need my help, but since I don’t speak dead, we’re having a few issues.
To add to the heap of trouble, there’s a new dangerously smokin’ hot lawyer at the firm who won't stop giving me the eye. My BFF is
thrilled with her new frozen face, thanks to her plastic surgeon, her alimony check, and the miracle of Botox. And then there’s the little conundrum that I’m becoming way too attached to my ghostly squatters… Like Cher, I'd like to turn back time. Now.
No can do.
Whatever. I have wine, good friends, and an industrial sized box of superglue. What could possibly go wrong?
Everything, apparently.
All in all, it’s shaping up to be a wonderful midlife crisis…
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A Paranormal Women's Fiction with a bit of class, and a lot of sass, for anyone who feels like age is just a number!
Midlife’s a bumpy journey. The ride is a freaking rollercoaster. The crisis is real.
With my life back to normal—normal being a very relative word—one would think I’d catch a break.
One would be very wrong.
With an Angel gunning for me and a Demon in my bed, life couldn’t be more complicated. Not to mention, I’m going to have to make a rather large life choice.
Do I want to live forever?
Does anyone? Forever is a very long time.
Whatever. I’ll think about it tomorrow… or next week… or next month. As long as I have my girlfriends, my dogs, a super-sized case of merlot and my deceased squatters, I’m good to go.
My midlife crisis. My rules. If it doesn’t kill me dead first, I plan to have a most excellent midlife crisis.
Midlife’s a bumpy journey. The ride is a freaking rollercoaster. The crisis is real.
With my life back to normal—normal being a very relative word—one would think I’d catch a break.
One would be very wrong.
With an Angel gunning for me and a Demon in my bed, life couldn’t be more complicated. Not to mention, I’m going to have to make a rather large life choice.
Do I want to live forever?
Does anyone? Forever is a very long time.
Whatever. I’ll think about it tomorrow… or next week… or next month. As long as I have my girlfriends, my dogs, a super-sized case of merlot and my deceased squatters, I’m good to go.
My midlife crisis. My rules. If it doesn’t kill me dead first, I plan to have a most excellent midlife crisis.
Other Formats::
Paperback
includes tax, if applicable
$7.43
A Paranormal Women's Fiction with a bit of class, and a lot of sass, for anyone who feels like age is just a number!
Midlife’s a journey. Enjoy the ride. Crisis included.
Never knew that life after death was far more dangerous than real life.
Never in my forty years did I think my new normal would be gluing body parts back onto ghosts and hosting a houseful of dead squatters. Thank God for superglue and a strong stomach.
Never thought I’d date the Grim Reaper and that I would be the one to blow it. I mean, how idiotic does one have to be to get dumped by a dude who lives in Hell?
Going about business as usual is not usual in any way. No one is who they seem to be… and to be honest, neither am I. What I’d known to be true has turned out to be myth. The Angels are frightening and the Demons are hot. Wait. I mean not. Who am I kidding? The Grim Reaper is very hot—like a freaking pre-menopausal hot flash hot.
Now I’m in a race against time and all sorts of unsavory supernatural horrors to save my deceased gay husband’s afterlife. And that was a sentence I never thought would leave my lips.
Whatever. I’ll yank up my big girl panties, stock up on wine and lean on my girlfriends as needed. As they say, when the going gets tough, the tough get inebriated… or something like that.
With everything to lose, I have no choice but to grow some lady balls. That I can do. I just hope balls will be enough.
I had planned to live midlife in peace, not in pieces.
Good luck to me…
Midlife’s a journey. Enjoy the ride. Crisis included.
Never knew that life after death was far more dangerous than real life.
Never in my forty years did I think my new normal would be gluing body parts back onto ghosts and hosting a houseful of dead squatters. Thank God for superglue and a strong stomach.
Never thought I’d date the Grim Reaper and that I would be the one to blow it. I mean, how idiotic does one have to be to get dumped by a dude who lives in Hell?
Going about business as usual is not usual in any way. No one is who they seem to be… and to be honest, neither am I. What I’d known to be true has turned out to be myth. The Angels are frightening and the Demons are hot. Wait. I mean not. Who am I kidding? The Grim Reaper is very hot—like a freaking pre-menopausal hot flash hot.
Now I’m in a race against time and all sorts of unsavory supernatural horrors to save my deceased gay husband’s afterlife. And that was a sentence I never thought would leave my lips.
Whatever. I’ll yank up my big girl panties, stock up on wine and lean on my girlfriends as needed. As they say, when the going gets tough, the tough get inebriated… or something like that.
With everything to lose, I have no choice but to grow some lady balls. That I can do. I just hope balls will be enough.
I had planned to live midlife in peace, not in pieces.
Good luck to me…
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$7.39
A day in the life of the Devil should be exhilarating—lying, stealing, cheating at poker and finally beating Mr. Rogers…
Life should be wonderful.
Right?
Wrong.
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. After living a millennium and never knowing the date I came to be, I have sussed out the information from my certifiably insane, pole-dancing mother. She’s swears on her empty head that my birthday is April 1st.
Soon, April 1st will mean something. I’m no fool. I plan to make my birthday far more famous than my do-gooder nephew’s. That day in December will be forgotten when I get done making my womb eviction day the most important in the history of the Universe.
I shall simply go about business as usual. 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.
Oh, and Happy Birthday to me.
Life should be wonderful.
Right?
Wrong.
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. After living a millennium and never knowing the date I came to be, I have sussed out the information from my certifiably insane, pole-dancing mother. She’s swears on her empty head that my birthday is April 1st.
Soon, April 1st will mean something. I’m no fool. I plan to make my birthday far more famous than my do-gooder nephew’s. That day in December will be forgotten when I get done making my womb eviction day the most important in the history of the Universe.
I shall simply go about business as usual. 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.
Oh, and Happy Birthday to me.
includes tax, if applicable
You Light Up My Midlife Crisis: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: Good to the Last Death Book Five
24/05/2021
$6.50
Midlife is definitely a journey. The road has massive potholes.
And the crisis… it’s the gift that keeps on giving.
Being forty is supposed to be freaking fabulous not fatal.
Taking on a daunting new job minus the description isn’t the smartest move I’ve ever made, even if it was to save a friend. Hopefully, it doesn’t turn out to be the stupidest… or deadliest.
Why can’t things stay the way they were? I love my old job. Supergluing ghosts back together and solving their issues is its own reward. Not to mention, I’m seriously good at it. Although, I must say, I’m ridiculously excited for the new Death Counselor’s arrival in nine months...
Adding to my problems, there are four new angels in town who are riding my butt and judging every move I make. Literally. Who knew destroying one Immortal could cause me so much trouble? If I’m found guilty, I’ll be pushing up daisies.
Luckily, my nutty friends have my back and the Grim Reaper has my heart. What could possibly go wrong?
Nothing is impossible. I am living proof. Let’s just hope I live to prove it.
And the crisis… it’s the gift that keeps on giving.
Being forty is supposed to be freaking fabulous not fatal.
Taking on a daunting new job minus the description isn’t the smartest move I’ve ever made, even if it was to save a friend. Hopefully, it doesn’t turn out to be the stupidest… or deadliest.
Why can’t things stay the way they were? I love my old job. Supergluing ghosts back together and solving their issues is its own reward. Not to mention, I’m seriously good at it. Although, I must say, I’m ridiculously excited for the new Death Counselor’s arrival in nine months...
Adding to my problems, there are four new angels in town who are riding my butt and judging every move I make. Literally. Who knew destroying one Immortal could cause me so much trouble? If I’m found guilty, I’ll be pushing up daisies.
Luckily, my nutty friends have my back and the Grim Reaper has my heart. What could possibly go wrong?
Nothing is impossible. I am living proof. Let’s just hope I live to prove it.
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Three's A Charm: Magic and Mayhem Book Six
05/02/2018
$6.38
What’s a witch to do when her magic is on the fritz and there’s a huge pile of laundry to be done? Easy. Flood the entire house. Everyone wants a bubbly indoor freakin’ swimming pool… right?
Just when everything is right in my life, something has to go wrong—times three. Number one: an unknown evil force wants to steal my power. Now, instead of protecting and healing the whacked out inhabitants of Assjacket, my power has wonked out on me and I’ve blasted ginormous holes all over town. Not to mention Roger the Rabbit is now sporting a pentagon of penii thanks to me and is keen on contacting the Guinness Book of World Records.
Unacceptable.
Armed with questionable voodoo skills and seriously frayed nerves, I’m Two: gonna do what any partially-sane, potty-mouthed, witch would do… I’m calling in the semi-evil, butt-ugly Bermangoggleshitz to train me. The warlock’s penchant for push-ups makes me hate him with the fire of a thousand suns, but if I can’t control my dark magic, it will control me.
Way unacceptable.
With Sassy and Cookie Witch by my side, I’ll Three: 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.
Wildly unacceptable.
We’ll be the Three Amigos. The Three Musketeers. The Three Stooges. Whatever. As the saying goes…three’s a crowd, three’s company, three’s a party.
Nope. Three’s a charm. And I’m gonna turn it on for all I’m worth.
Just when everything is right in my life, something has to go wrong—times three. Number one: an unknown evil force wants to steal my power. Now, instead of protecting and healing the whacked out inhabitants of Assjacket, my power has wonked out on me and I’ve blasted ginormous holes all over town. Not to mention Roger the Rabbit is now sporting a pentagon of penii thanks to me and is keen on contacting the Guinness Book of World Records.
Unacceptable.
Armed with questionable voodoo skills and seriously frayed nerves, I’m Two: gonna do what any partially-sane, potty-mouthed, witch would do… I’m calling in the semi-evil, butt-ugly Bermangoggleshitz to train me. The warlock’s penchant for push-ups makes me hate him with the fire of a thousand suns, but if I can’t control my dark magic, it will control me.
Way unacceptable.
With Sassy and Cookie Witch by my side, I’ll Three: 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.
Wildly unacceptable.
We’ll be the Three Amigos. The Three Musketeers. The Three Stooges. Whatever. As the saying goes…three’s a crowd, three’s company, three’s a party.
Nope. Three’s a charm. And I’m gonna turn it on for all I’m worth.
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$6.47
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.
Easier said than done. Maybe if I wasn’t pregnant and starving, I could deal with the nasty old witch who resides in a gingerbread house. Add in carb eating fairies who speak French and three rotund familiars who enjoy defacing property with profane graffiti, and what you get is almost more trouble than I can handle in my baby baking condition.
I’m still not convinced I won’t be giving birth to puppies since the smokin’ hot father of my babies is a werewolf, and NO ONE has given me ANY concrete proof to the contrary. Getting knocked up by the werewolf of my dreams was all kinds of awesome in practice, but the reality of becoming a mother scares me more than Baba Yaga’s horrendous 1980’s wardrobe.
Monstrous decisions with enormous ramifications are best handled with meticulous planning—or in my case—after eating a giant mustard slathered jelly doughnut. Neither of those options is possible at the moment, but since there is no way I’m bringing my children into a magicless world, winging it will just have to work.
Wait… Was that a contraction I just felt?
Goddess help us all…
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.
Easier said than done. Maybe if I wasn’t pregnant and starving, I could deal with the nasty old witch who resides in a gingerbread house. Add in carb eating fairies who speak French and three rotund familiars who enjoy defacing property with profane graffiti, and what you get is almost more trouble than I can handle in my baby baking condition.
I’m still not convinced I won’t be giving birth to puppies since the smokin’ hot father of my babies is a werewolf, and NO ONE has given me ANY concrete proof to the contrary. Getting knocked up by the werewolf of my dreams was all kinds of awesome in practice, but the reality of becoming a mother scares me more than Baba Yaga’s horrendous 1980’s wardrobe.
Monstrous decisions with enormous ramifications are best handled with meticulous planning—or in my case—after eating a giant mustard slathered jelly doughnut. Neither of those options is possible at the moment, but since there is no way I’m bringing my children into a magicless world, winging it will just have to work.
Wait… Was that a contraction I just felt?
Goddess help us all…
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$6.77
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.
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.
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Switching Hour: Magic and Mayhem Book One
22/09/2015
$0.00
Released from the magic pokey and paroled with limited power is enough to make any witch grumpy. However, if you throw in a recently resurrected cat, a lime-green Kia and a sexy egotistical werewolf, it's enough to make a gal fly off the edge.
Not to mention a mission...with no freaking directions.
So here I sit in Asscrack, West Virginia trying to figure out how to complete my mysterious mission before All Hallows Eve when I’ll get turned into a mortal. The animals in the area are convinced I'm the Shifter Whisperer (whatever the hell that is) and the hotter-than- asphalt-in-August werewolf thinks I'm his mate. Now apparently I'm slated to save a bunch of hairy freaks of nature?
If they think I'm the right witch for the job, they've swallowed some bad brew.
Not to mention a mission...with no freaking directions.
So here I sit in Asscrack, West Virginia trying to figure out how to complete my mysterious mission before All Hallows Eve when I’ll get turned into a mortal. The animals in the area are convinced I'm the Shifter Whisperer (whatever the hell that is) and the hotter-than- asphalt-in-August werewolf thinks I'm his mate. Now apparently I'm slated to save a bunch of hairy freaks of nature?
If they think I'm the right witch for the job, they've swallowed some bad brew.
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$7.01
Once upon a time there lived a Fairy.
And not just your run of the mill kind of Fairy. The reincarnated Fairy Queen of Zanthia. The Queen. She was a modern woman—a human no less. Armed with a potty mouth, a firm grasp of every note in Michael Jackson’s song catalogue, and some friends in very high places, she was set. Yet this Queen wasn’t exactly sure she wanted the job.
Fine…it’s me.
I’ve been happily human for thirty years. Now I’m discovering I’m the reincarnated Fairy Queen over a land chock-full of freaks who want me dead. Awesome. However, I’ll admit the perks are pretty cool. I definitely 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 won’t go alone. Nope. I’m packing a narcissistic Mini Elf, two ancient singing Vampyres who couldn’t carry a tune if their undead lives depended on it, and the sister of my imprisoned love, The Kev. For him, I vow to discover my truth. Consequently, I’m unsure if this truth is meant to save or destroy. What I do know? The alternative is unacceptable.
Fairy tales are meant to have happy endings. I’m determined to make that a reality.
Ready or not… here comes the freakin’ Fairy Queen.
And not just your run of the mill kind of Fairy. The reincarnated Fairy Queen of Zanthia. The Queen. She was a modern woman—a human no less. Armed with a potty mouth, a firm grasp of every note in Michael Jackson’s song catalogue, and some friends in very high places, she was set. Yet this Queen wasn’t exactly sure she wanted the job.
Fine…it’s me.
I’ve been happily human for thirty years. Now I’m discovering I’m the reincarnated Fairy Queen over a land chock-full of freaks who want me dead. Awesome. However, I’ll admit the perks are pretty cool. I definitely 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 won’t go alone. Nope. I’m packing a narcissistic Mini Elf, two ancient singing Vampyres who couldn’t carry a tune if their undead lives depended on it, and the sister of my imprisoned love, The Kev. For him, I vow to discover my truth. Consequently, I’m unsure if this truth is meant to save or destroy. What I do know? The alternative is unacceptable.
Fairy tales are meant to have happy endings. I’m determined to make that a reality.
Ready or not… here comes the freakin’ Fairy Queen.
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Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned Series, Book 1)
02/09/2013
$6.06
Vampyres don’t exist. They absolutely do not exist.
At least I didn’t think they did ‘til I tried to quit smoking and ended up Undead. Who in the hell did I screw over in a former life that my getting healthy equates with dead?
Now I’m a Vampyre. Yes, we exist whether we want to or not. However, I have to admit, the perks aren’t bad. My girls no longer jiggle, my ass is higher than a kite and the latest Prada keeps finding its way to my wardrobe. On the downside, I’m stuck with an obscenely profane Guardian Angel who looks like Oprah and a Fairy Fighting Coach who’s teaching me to annihilate like the Terminator.
To complicate matters, my libido has increased to Vampyric proportions and my attraction to a hotter than Satan’s underpants killer rogue Vampyre is not only dangerous . . . it’s possibly deadly. For real dead. Permanent death isn’t on my agenda. Avoiding him is my only option. Of course, since he thinks I’m his, it’s easier said than done. Like THAT’S not enough to deal with, all the other Vampyres think I’m some sort of Chosen One.
Holy Hell, if I’m in charge of saving an entire race of blood suckers, the Undead are in for one hell of a ride.
*****
“Uproariously witty, deliciously provocative, and just plain fun! No one delivers side-splitting humor and mouth-watering sensuality like Robyn Peterman. This is entertainment at its absolute finest!” ~ Darynda Jones, NY Times Bestselling Author of the Charley Davidson Series
At least I didn’t think they did ‘til I tried to quit smoking and ended up Undead. Who in the hell did I screw over in a former life that my getting healthy equates with dead?
Now I’m a Vampyre. Yes, we exist whether we want to or not. However, I have to admit, the perks aren’t bad. My girls no longer jiggle, my ass is higher than a kite and the latest Prada keeps finding its way to my wardrobe. On the downside, I’m stuck with an obscenely profane Guardian Angel who looks like Oprah and a Fairy Fighting Coach who’s teaching me to annihilate like the Terminator.
To complicate matters, my libido has increased to Vampyric proportions and my attraction to a hotter than Satan’s underpants killer rogue Vampyre is not only dangerous . . . it’s possibly deadly. For real dead. Permanent death isn’t on my agenda. Avoiding him is my only option. Of course, since he thinks I’m his, it’s easier said than done. Like THAT’S not enough to deal with, all the other Vampyres think I’m some sort of Chosen One.
Holy Hell, if I’m in charge of saving an entire race of blood suckers, the Undead are in for one hell of a ride.
*****
“Uproariously witty, deliciously provocative, and just plain fun! No one delivers side-splitting humor and mouth-watering sensuality like Robyn Peterman. This is entertainment at its absolute finest!” ~ Darynda Jones, NY Times Bestselling Author of the Charley Davidson Series
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