Robyn Peterman

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.

Midlife is madness and the crisis is expensive… to my sanity.

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.

According to Baba Yoscarybutt, it’s time for me to witch up or step back down into the Cornholio minor leagues. While Cornhole is definitely not my beanbag, I can’t stand to lose....

With the darkness on the horizon, I need to clear my name and get to work. Forming a Goodness Army is on the top of the list....

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....

Apparently, there’s no rest for the over-forty crowd. Yes, I have fabulous friends. Yes, I have a beautiful baby. Yes, the ghosts are coming back home. Yes, I’m in love with the Grim Reaper. However, that sexy Demon has got some major ’splainin’ to do....

All I want to do is marry the Vampyre of my dreams, with my friends and family in attendance. Yep, I know nuptials in the undead world are unheard of, but I'm still hanging on to my humanity....

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.....

Planning my own wedding should mean I'm having the time of my life...not defending it every time I turn around....

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....

I want to live my life in peace for a little while as opposed to pieces. I don’t know who I have to bribe to catch a break, but I’m willing to pay the big bucks. Apparently, no one got the memo. Midlife is one messy ride.

Four months of wallowing in embarrassed depression should be enough. I’m beginning to realize that no one is who they seem to be, and my life story might be spinning out of my control. It’s time to take a shower, put on a bra, and wear something other than sweatpants....

Come on an adventure with my mermaids and their unlikely heroes. Get three hilarious stories all in one big book....

I have to trap the most evil, worst bad dude in existence without actually turning him to ash. So, what's a Vampyre to do? For starters, enter an undead beauty pageant....

And I thought being half Vampyre/half Demon was hard.... That's nothing compared to being a mother....

Life undercover isn't exactly one big party - not when you're a DEA agent - but it sure beats a desk job. Except when you screw up big and someone has to go in and clean up after you....

With a new job I didn’t apply for and an extended family I didn’t know I had - midlife has become somewhat problematic. Gluing ghosts back together is easy compared to my new celestial occupation....

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....

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....