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.

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.

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

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 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....

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 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.....

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....

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....

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 kick-ass new sister, a ghostly family, and super powers to boot....

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....

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....

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....

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....

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....

Midlife is sheer madness, and the facts of midlife are not taught in school. Unfortunately, some lessons are hellishly hard to learn....

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

Never in my 40 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....

With Sassy and Cookie Witch by my side, I'll 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....

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