Résultats de "Robyn Peterman" dans Toutes les catégories

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

My grandmother has orchestrated a psycho body swap. I’m in Uncle Satan’s body, and he’s in mine. According to Mother Nature, we have one week to respect each other or we’re stuck in this out-of-body Hell for eternity. Satan’s thinks being a Vampyre sucks, and I’m horrified that Demons have use the bathroom for more than showering and brushing their teeth. Yuck. It gets worse.

The great news is that I found my sanity. It was laying next to my midlife crisis. The bad news… To be old and wise, one must first be young and stupid. I’m batting five hundred in stupid department at the moment. A wedding, a death and a kidnapping. That’s what I’m dealing with. The...

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.

I just lived through a dream state mash-up of The Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland and Survivor. You’d think I’d catch a break. You would be incorrect. After successfully evicting my mortal enemy—now frenemy—who was squatting in my head, and making friends with fanged munchkins who bare uncanny resemblances to Hollywood A-listers, I now have a new enemy—a really powerful and vengeful enemy.

The show must go on…even if it takes a U-turn into Hell. I have too much to lose if Pandora wins. With the love of my demonic life by my side, along with the profane, toothpick-loving Keeper of Fate, and a cast of inappropriate characters, I’m going to embrace this starring role. I have to. If I can’t solve the problem of unboxing the box, my life as I know it will be over. No TV show, no close-up, and, definitely, no Emmy. So, I’m onto my next gig. I have no clue how the episode will end.

Just when I think everything is calming down, it ramps back up to eleven. On what should be one of the happiest and most romantic days of my life, the unthinkable happens. The ghosts I’d so kindly guided into the Light showed up on my front porch, including my dead husband. Something or someone is messing with the balance and if it’s not remedied, the Darkness will destroy the world.

The entity in charge of everything—and I mean everything—has lost Its ever-loving mind, and it’s up to me and my nearest and dearest to fix it. This deity is dangerous and out for blood—my daughter’s included. So, we’re going after it before it comes after us. I’ve called in the troops, and we’re ready to rumble.

Whoever said life begins at forty must have been heavily medicated, drunk, or delusional. Three funerals without the deceased present? Crisis. One wedding run by drag queens with questionable taste in music? Semi-crisis, but doable. Dead showing up on my porch who have already crossed over? This is what forty looks like for me. But now I have an even bigger problem. The Higher Power wants my daughter. It’s not happening. Period.

One might think fighting the bad guy and coming out on top would earn me a vacation… One would be wrong. I’d stirred up a hornet’s nest that could end existence as we know it. Not my best move. I know more about acting than Goddess-ing, but that won’t stop me. I’m about to assume the character and plow though the script to the very end even though I’m wildly underrehearsed and more adept at sitcoms than action movies with real life consequences. Too bad, so sad.