Robyn Peterman

One of these things is not like the others-life threatening community theatre, wire hangers, chipmunks, tree-house sex-capades with a hot werewolf and head-shrinking with a porno-loving rabbit Shifter. Actually none of these things are even remotely like the others, but it's my life and I'm going to make the pieces fit into a perfect puzzle-even if I have to shove it together and glue it with magic. New leaf, new leaf, new freakin' leaf. Caring for people wasn't in my repertoire until I landed in Assjacket, West Virginia. Falling in love wasn't anywhere on my agenda. It's messy. However, I've been told messy is what showers and therapy are for. I'm hoping that info is correct because Goddess knows I'm trying. Never until now have I been a witch that wanted it all-the guy, the job, the friends and the place called home. Now I just have to fix my slightly irresponsible and somewhat unstable witchy ways so I deserve it. I'm going for perfect...or at least a loose definition of the word. Messy...here I come.

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? Life is getting messy and I don't do messy. With feelings I didn't know I was capable of having, and the word love being thrown around like a football on Super Bowl Sunday, poofing away with a magical twitch of my nose is becoming more appealing by the moment. But to show I'm not a weenie, I'm gonna pull up my big girl panties and hurl some fireballs at Baba Yaga's older than dirt warlock posse if they don't pony up the info I need. If I don't burn the town of Assjacket down while trying to save it, I'm donning my red cape and playing who's the big bad wolf with a for real wolf who's hotter than any fireball. I just pray to the Goddess my heart doesn't get burned in the process...

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.

Mix one part Mermaid-one part Genie. Throw in an intoxicated God of the Sea and a few smack-talking Pirates. What have you got?Pandemonium.Petunia's Pandemonium to be more accurate. Letting the ocean current take me where it may for the last twenty-five years hasn't worked out so great. So, instead of getting my tail in a knot, I'm making some swimmingly simple changes.-Stay on Mystical Isle with my cousins who love me.-Avenge my parents and eliminate the sea monster who's wreaking havoc.-Forget about the gorgeous, no-good Genie who left me at the altar... so to speak.-Stay away from Genies until the end of time.-Join Poseidon's embarrassingly named online dating service for Immortals and get back into the game.What could go wrong?

What could possibly go wrong when a Mermaid and a Werewolf are sent on a dangerous mission by the drunken, diaper-wearing God of the Sea?Better question. What could possibly go right?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 twenty stories while blindfolded.Look, I know meaningless nookie won't help me find my happily ever after, or even a guy who believes tightrope handstands over the Grand Canyon are fun. But there is someone out there for me so next time I do the horizontal mambo, it's for keeps.May the gods help me. Well, me and whoever I boink next.

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.

What's love got to do with it? If you're Cupid, everything. If you're me, not a thing in the sea. I don't believe in love.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... don't judge-left red and silver magic all over my skin and hair last time we... umm...went on a date. And guess what? It doesn't wash off.Poseidon saw me sparkling away and now I'm freakin' Cupid. Getting to the bottom of this abyss means finding what's his name and thrashing his fine, smexy behind with my fin.Why does this send shivers of delight all the way to the tip of my tail you might ask? I have no clue and no time to figure it out. Don't judge.I'm about to give love a bad name.

What in the clam shell does a Mermaid have to do to find true love?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 two hundred 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.Of course, there is a Selkie... the sexiest most idiotic man-seal I've ever had the misfortune of swimming across-definitely an asshat. Unfortunately, the dork still invades my dreams on a regular basis.I finally have a shot at an adventure. I must save our island home. However, the mission is to seek out the very Selkie who stole my heart... the same asshat whose Johnson I'd tried to truncate.Holy hell and seashells. Only I would agree to a tsunami waiting to happen.Ask any tuna you happen to see... Who's the craziest Mermaid? That would be me.

Pirate DougWhat in the Chicken of the Sea was I thinking to agree to this half arsed Otherworld Defense Agency mission?I'm the most absurdly good looking Vampire Pirate of the High Seas. Being on the run for my life is very important work... and a freaking full time job. Defending Mermaids from some vicious Sea Hags is going to cut into my pilfering time. Unacceptable. Even though this is a very bad move on my part, I know I'll eventually agree-too many bounties on my arse to refuse, and the thought of a certain Mermaid makes my roger quite jolly.However, Tallulah, the leader of the Mystical Isle Pod of Mermaids, isn't going to be happy to see me... at all. The horrible, sexy, breathtaking woman has been starring in my dreams for too many years to count. Sadly, just when my mind wanders to the really good nookie part, the dream ends with her lopping my Johnson off.I just hope to Hell and back that the Sea Hags have some outstanding booty to steal. If I'm going to have to regrow my tallywhacker, the treasure had better damned well be worth it.TallulahRunning 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...Well, I hate one Pirate in particular.Hopefully, it won't be the one seafaring jackhole I despise more than any other. Pirate Doug would be an idiot to show his face here after what he'd done. Not only did the dumbass abscond with our treasure, the son-of-a-bitch took my heart with him as well.I'll tear his sorry ass to shreds if he so much as steps even one hairy toe on my island.

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.

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.

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 twenty-nine 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? As soon as my varnished Virginia is mobile, I want to go home to my adorable little house I share with with the love of my life and my four semi-violent, adopted, gum-smacking chipmunk shifter sons. But, noooooooo... Instead of enjoying a bouncy romp of nookie with my marsupial man whose last name I should really find out, I have to deal with an odiferous, butt-ugly, dead-beat, evil warlock of a dad named Bermangoggleshitz-the very same douchecanoe that tried to kill my rodent children. Not to mention, said sperm donor has called up a Legion of demons from the Underworld. Fanfreakintastic. So armed with my questionable intellect, a shaky handle on the French language and a penchant for blowing up buildings, I'm gonna grab this problem by the nuts and squeeze-like a brazilian times...whoops, bazillion. That French gets me every time. I will have my happily ever after no matter what or my name's not Sassy Louise...umm... Bermangoggleshitz.

Why do I have to have my tail in a knot for the one hot, sexy Werewolf who can't seem to keep his Johnson in his pants? 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 who's pants are so tight I can see their religion. Then I'll claim my man. What should be an easy feat, gets sucktastic when you throw in a three hundred year old fabulous gay Vampyre, an antiquated motherboard from the 90's and a challenge from the vicious, deadly Alabama Pack. Not to mention a libido that is out of control. Mine. So I'm just gonna dive in-head first and eyes closed. Love conquers all. Right? As long as reality doesn't wear me out, I plan to win.

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 know I'm already mated...I wanna get married. What do you get when you combine a three headed monster named Charles, a rotund, gay, dancing Demon named Doug, a culinary disaster baked by Mother Nature, a celibate premarital councilor named Jeff, an offer from Satan that's impossible to refuse and Steve Perry? You get the Royal Wedding from Hell-or to be more accurate-possibly in Hell. All I want to do is marry the Vampyre of my dreams with my closest friends and family in attendance. Yep, I know nuptials in the undead world are unheard of, but I'm still hanging onto my humanity if only by a thread. Being mated is great, but getting married is important to me. Tacky invitations and cake that causes food poisoning aside, I also need to deal with the stream of Demons entering my world from mysteriously opened portals. Not to mention Angel Jeff is going to fail us on the premarital test if we participate in any nookie before the wedding. I'm trying really hard not to go bridezilla on everyone. With five days to plan the wedding, I have figure out who's opening the portals and deal with our hostile allies who think our wedding is a farce. It's been a very difficult week-especially the no nookie part. All I know is this, I will say I do on Saturday even if it I have to go to Hell and back to accomplish it.