Tuesday, October 7, 2014



I have debated with myself for days—mostly in private, but I did realize I was babbling to myself at the grocery the other day. It was Wednesday—Senior Citizens Day. I was slightly less self-conscious when I realized most of the people in the store were all mumbling to themselves. I will now only shop on Wednesdays. 

My debate has centered around my “not fun” status. I have been told that I am boring by my kids because I don’t dress up for Halloween. Isn’t it enough that I get their damn costumes and candy and pumpkins and bloody trolls and monsters for the yard??? Not to mention the grave stones and headless things that give me nightmares. Clearly not. I shall fight this unfair assessment. I will dress up and embarrass the hell out of them this year.

Their Dad is the fun one…However, I’m the one they come to when they are sick or need help with homework (even though I’m useless when it comes to Algebra) or to ask about the birds and bees or when they can’t find something or if they’re hungry or etc… Thankfully, they seem to be fine with the fact I talk out loud to the invisible people from my books all the time. I’m sure this will lead them into therapy at some stage of their lives…

Often they have to clarify if I’m talking about a real person or a fictional one. BUT, I must point out that same question is relevant for their actor father. We pride ourselves on being a little odd. Weird is a compliment in our family. 

Sooooo, back to my dilemma—what to be for Halloween…I have considered a Teletubby, the purple one of course. I have imagined myself as the Pink Power Ranger or Dora the Explorer. All of these options would mortify my children. Elmo would send them running for cover. 

So many choices. So many ways to make them see the error of their thoughts about their “not fun” mom. They assume I will choose to be a Vampire because of my obsession with the paranormal, but that’s too easy. Typical I am not. I have also mulled the thought of becoming Bob the Builder, but that show could drive anyone to drink. However, Caiou would make me tear my own head off and eat it. 

I believe I will be a Teletubby. I will get tons of pictures hugging and tackling my children in my ginormous purple suit. I will talk like a Teletubby for the entire evening and I will dance as we go from house to house. I feel good about my decision. 
Five bucks says that they will beg me to never dress up again.
Happy Halloween. 

If you want some Spooky Sexy reading, check out the Hot Damned Series!!!! There are no Teletubbies in it. 

xoxo Robyn 



Monday, August 11, 2014


Well, the first part of the question is easy. It’s what I love to read and I’m a sucker and a half for happily ever afters. I write snarky, sexy paranormal comedies and snarky, sexy contemporary comedies. The rest of the answer goes like this…
The crazy, mixed-up tale of how my first
book came to be – also known as, WTF? 
I'm getting published.

I’ve been asked how I got published. The answer is simple...I lied. That’s right, I lied.
I wouldn’t recommend it, although it worked for me. It certainly could have blown up in my face, but wether it was sheer will and determination or dumb luck, I’ll never know. Here’s how it went...
     I pitched an imaginary novel (as if it were done) to major NY publishers and agents at a writers conference in Chicago. I was shocked, delighted and appalled that everyone I pitched to asked for a full manuscript. After a brief and hopefully unnoticeable panic attack, I very logically explained to them that I needed to get the book professionally edited (real meaning--write it) and would have it to them in three weeks. What the hell did I have to lose? My sanity had been gone for years.
     Having been an actor for umpteen decades came in handy. Clearly, pretending to smell delicious imaginary aromas in commercial auditions and becoming one with my inner lawn gnome in acting class, made my fear of telling ginormous lies nonexistent.
     The next part of the story goes like this...I went home and wrote it. I didn’t sleep for three weeks, my family ate a lot of peanut butter and jelly and no one in the house had any clean underpants. I loved every minute of it. I ended up with several offers. I went with a three book deal with Kensington Publishing and HOW HARD CAN IT BE? was born.
    That’s my crazy story, but the real answer to getting published is to write. Just write. Everyday. Every writer I’ve had the good fortune to know says the same thing. Oh, and read...tons.
     Writing groups are a great idea too. I was such a nervous wreck about going to my first meeting with real writers that when I couldn’t find a parking space, I turned around and drove home.
     Thankfully, I grew some bigger testicles and went to their next meeting. I met some of the neatest and most generous women. I learned to look at my writing with a more critical eye and grow thicker skin. In this group of amazing women, I found critique partners, cheerleaders and friends.
     It’s empowering to be with others who share your passion, no matter where you are in your career. I highly recommend it.
     I do believe writing the book of your heart is important, but knowing what’s marketable is not stupid. You may have a passion for the magical unicorns that helped win the Civil War by twerking through the South, but my guess is you won’t sell many books…
     You could also lie.
     The publishing industry has changed and continues to change. With digital reading devices now in the game, viable options for writers are endless. I have extremely talented friends who publish traditionally through NY and equally as talented friends who are publishing independently. I do both and am a very happy camper.
     The bottom line is that you have to write a good book and then you have to never give up. And while you’re never giving up, you have to write another good book and another and another… It’s a wonderful thing to have a job where you can work in your underpants.
     Writing may seem like a solitary sport, but it’s not. A critique partner, other writing friends, spell check, Coke® with extra ice in a styrofoam cup and a great editor are just a few of the things I think every writer needs.
     So that’s my romantic story and I’m sticking to it. I’m not sure how good the lesson is, but the ending is happy. I love happy endings.

QUESTIONS…(from my buddies at Read a Romance)

Describe the most daring, adventurous or inspiring thing you ever did.

Hmmm, my mom would have an embarrassing list about a mile long. Thank God, she’s not writing this blog. I will pick inspiring because daring could get me into trouble depending on statute of limitations in various states.
The most inspiring thing I’ve done was giving birth to my kids. It is by far my greatest accomplishment in my life. They are amazing people and I am still shocked that my Hot Hubby and I created them. 

Tell us about your journey to becoming a writer.

Well I answered that above. I don’t recommend my method. I got a gnarly case of the shingles after staying awake for three weeks straight…However, if it happened that way again, I’d probably do the same thing. 

Tell us about a book that changed your life.

I am a voracious reader. I would be hard pressed to name just one book. From childhood the books that have stayed with me are Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret, Anne of Green Gables, A Wrinkle In Time and Are You my Mother?.
As a teen, To Kill A Mocking Bird, A Prayer for Owen Meany and Bird By Bird.
As an adult, anything by David Sedaris, Jeaniene Frost, Thea Harrison, Darynda Jones, John Irving and Ann Rice. And I also adore biographies.
I know I have left out many, but those were the first that came to mind.

A big smooch to my Pookie, Darynda Jones and Read A Romance month for inviting me to this bloggy fun!!!!
For those of you that don’t know me, I shall post my warped bio and some links!!!!

I write because the people inside my head won’t leave me alone until I give them life on paper. My addictions include laughing really hard with friends, shoes (the expensive kind), Target, Coke Zero Cherry with extra ice in a styrofoam cup, bejeweled reading glasses, my kids, my super-hot hubby and collecting stray animals. A former professional actress, with Broadway, film and T.V. credits, I now live in the south with my family and too many animals to count. Writing gives me peace and makes me whole, plus having a job where I can work in my underpants works really well for me. You can leave me a message via the Contact Page on my website and I’ll get back to you as soon as my bizarre life permits! I love to hear from readers!


Wednesday, April 16, 2014


Spring is a dangerous time of the year for me. For real.

Yes, much to my great delight, I broke my tooth. How you may ask? Ice. I was chewing on ice. Not just any ice…I was cheating and living on the edge. I was drinking a half Coke/ half Diet Coke. I am thinking this is the Universe’s way of punishing me for indulging. 

I really am a nice person. Yes, I have a potty mouth, I stay up too late, I am freaked out by clowns, I fold laundry and never put it away, I sometimes skip to the end of books, I don’t always listen to my messages, I like to pick off nail polish and I think burnt cookies are better than sex, but I do try to be kind. Actually I like nookie way better than cookies, but it sounded good.

Last spring I broke my foot leaping across the floor while teaching upper elementary school kids ballet. I am proud of the fact that not one swear word passed my lips. I can’t say the same about the tooth incident today. I was alone, so I let her rip. Buttassmunchfucker has now been added to my vocabulary. However, cocksuckertoothshitass is right up there too. If I was a Werewolf or a Vampyre this would not be happening. So I’ve decided to give up my humanity and become a Werewolf. I think being a Vampyre would be difficult because I don’t love the taste of blood. I collect stray animals so clearly it would work getting furry. Fangs would be stronger than teeth and bones would heal faster. This would solve a multitude of issues, although I would also end up institutionalized, which might suck.

I suppose I will have to lay off the hard stuff (meaning ice) and realize that when you’re forty-blahblahblah nothing works as well as it used to. I will tuck my delusions of becoming a Werewolf back into my books and I will more than likely have a wonderful time getting a root canal. I promise to share…

Speaking of my books and Werewolves…READY TO WERE is awesome and I am loving writing it. I can’t wait till you guys can read it. I will post excerpts soon. 

Thank you for listening to me bitch. There is more of Spring left, so I plan to be careful. I have no time to break anything else. 
Till next time,
xoxo Robyn 

PS. If you haven’t read FASHIONABLY DEAD, it’s freeeeeeeeeeee!!! And FASHIONABLY DEAD DOWN UNDER is out and kicking some major cocksuckertoothshitass. 

Sunday, February 9, 2014


OKEY DOKEY ARTICHOKEYS!!!!! Here it is!!!! I promised you the first two chapters of FASHIONABLY DEAD DOWN UNDER (Book 2 of the Hot Damned Series) and I am making good on that promise!! Just so you know, this is unedited so any booboos (not boobies), misspelled words or poopy punctuation has not been fixed yet and is all my fault! It will go to my brilliant editor before it comes out, but I wanted you guys and gals to get a little sneak peek. PLUS, I’ve been getting threats on a daily basis because I left this puppy on a cliff hanger!!!! I know...I SUCK. FASHIONABLY DEAD DOWN UNDER will be coming out the end of March.
If you haven’t read FASHIONABLY DEAD (Book 1 of the Hot Damned Series) you should. It’s only $.99 and it’s full of snarky, sexy Vampyre shenanigans. It’s a must for those of you who love your undead on the funny side!! I’ll post the link at the bottom. 
xoxo Robyn

Pain—then ice—then intolerable heat. A second took years, yet time stood still. The claws of those that trapped me were razor sharp. They tore through my flesh as the ones who owned them grunted and screamed with delight. I struggled for balance, but realized I was standing on air. Violet and silver dust engulfed me as I choked on smells of burning flesh and anger. How was this happening? I was supposed to be planning my wedding to my hotter than Satan’s underpants Vampyre Prince…not taking a ride to Hell with smelly and disgusting Demons. Shitshitdamnitshit. 

Journey? The soundtrack in Hell was Journey? I would have thought Nine Inch Nails or AC DC, but certainly not Journey…Don’t get me wrong, I loved Journey, but Don’t Stop Believing just didn’t seem like an appropriate anthem for the Underworld. Was I even in Hell? Maybe this was Purgatory or some other random plane of existence? Although I would expect Barry Manilow, John Tesh or Kenny G if I was stuck in Purgatory.
“Where in God’s name am I?” I muttered as I gingerly pried my dry eyes open.
One thing I was absolutely sure of—I definitely wasn’t on Earth. The ride to where ever the hell I was with the stinky Demons had sucked the big one. It was violent, smelly and it hurt like a son of a bitch.
Easing my body to a sitting position was difficult but doable. Now, to figure out where I was…
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I moaned, both from the pain shooting through my limbs and the simple fact that Faithfully was blasting from invisible speakers hidden somewhere in my cell.
Wait. Was this a cell? A trap? A bedroom?
A bedroom? I was in a bedroom?
This couldn’t be Hell. It had to be some kind of holding area. The Underworld was supposed to smell like sulfur and look like post-Armageddon. This place looked more like some douchenoggle with big bucks and debatable taste had shopped at all the most expensive home stores on Fifth Avenue…while they were drunk.
My body ached like I’d been beaten and I checked myself for wounds. Surprisingly I was fine. Maybe all that flesh tearing had been an illusion. Being a Vampyre I healed quickly, but the trip to Hell, or where ever I was, had been rather turbulent. Turning my head took effort, but I needed to figure out my location and how to get out.
Interesting. I was on a large bed draped in cheesy and predictable slippery black silk. The walls of what I decided to assume was a massive bedroom were all done in burnished gold leafing. Thick and ornate crown molding framed the walls. The shades of the molding were more muted and depicted horrific scenes of mutilation and decapitations of some kind of animal looking thing. Okay, this was more like the Hell I expected. The artwork added to the ambience— frescos of orgies and graphic depictions of group sex and death graced what had to be twenty-foot high walls. The floor was so highly waxed it literally sparkled—the uninviting cold black marble stretched from one end of the huge room to the other.
Trying to block out Steven Perry singing Lovin, Touchin, Squeezin’ was almost impossible. I had a bizarre urge to sing along…
Wait a fucking minute…were the walls breathing?
Stop. Pull yourself together—walls didn’t breath. I needed to deal with the situation at hand. I would not let Steven Perry or walls with a heartbeat derail me from getting the hell out of Hell. 
First things first, I needed to get up. I wasn’t chained to the bed. I was able to move as freely as my battered body would allow. I suppose the most unnerving part was that no one was around…or were they? I hadn’t seen anyone or anything since my forced arrival. Could Demons cloak themselves like I could?
“Astrid,” a disembodied voice hissed from out of nowhere.
          “Holy Hell,” I screamed and dove under the bed, slamming the side of my head on the metal frame and bending back all the fingers on my left hand. “Who’s here?” I shouted, nursing my painfully throbbing fingers and head not to mention the rest of my body.
          “Al Pachino.”
          “Al Pachino lives in Hell? I didn’t even know he died.” Plus he seemed more like a Purgatory guy to me. “Bullshit,” I muttered, cautiously peeking out from under the bed. There was no one in the room but me. Maybe the walls were alive. “You are not Al Pachino. You don’t even sound like al Pachino. Who in the hell are you?”
“I’m part of you,” the wall whispered.
“I’m a fucking wall?”
The wall laughed heartily. So heartily it pissed me off. “So did you enjoy your trip, Astrid?”
“Are you kidding me? It sucked,” I snapped and scanned the room for a hidden Demon. There had to be someone in here. Walls did not talk.
“What on earth did you expect my dear? You’d just killed their leader who happened to be your Father,” the voice informed me. “Not to mention you offed your psychotic bitch of a somewhat human mother not even ten minutes before your father arrived.”
“My father was no prize either. He was a gross, stinky, disgusting and evil Demon and wasn’t even upset that I snuffed out my mother,” I shot back. Fine. I’d lost it I was talking to a wall…
“Darling girl, if you were able to kill both your parents why didn’t you stop the Demons from taking you to Hell?”
“Well, Wall, you seem to know quite a bit already. I’m sure you know exactly why I couldn’t stop the Demons.”
“Couldn’t or didn’t?” the wall inquired politely.
I’d had enough of the wall. “What does it matter? I was a bit tired from offing my parents and I had, um…other reasons.” Damnit, this was impossible. Was I really talking to a wall? Yes. Yes, I was.
“Ah yes,” the wall said lovingly. “Your unborn child. That child will also be part of me.”
“Look, no offense, but you’re a freakin’ talking wall. I don’t really see the connection between you, me and my baby.”
“If you’re not going to be pleasant, I’ll leave,” the wall huffed and the heartbeat disappeared. WTF?
Fucking. Awesome. The wall was gone because I pissed it off. Not only had I made myself an orphan earlier and earned a lovely unplanned trip to the Land of Damnation, but I’d made a talking wall in Hell angry with me. What did a girl have to do to catch a freakin’ break? I’d done everything that was expected of me and still I got the shaft…I’d fulfilled the crazy Vampyre Prophecy. I’d saved the Vampyre King and proved I was indeed their Chosen One. Although I might have reconsidered the job had I known ending up in Abyss of Darkness was part of the description.
“Are you screwing with me?” I shouted at the wall as Open Arms surrounded me on all sides. The incredible urge to sway and sing along was almost debilitating. There had to be something subliminal going on here…Was Journey part of some evil plan? Was it laced with hidden references to Hell and debauchery? Was Steven Perry a succubus? Either someone downunder was obsessed with 80’s pop music or I wasn’t in Hell at all.
“Oh my god,” I gasped as crawled out from under the bed. I very slowly stretched out my cramped legs and arms. “I clearly fucked someone over in a former life to have to deal with this.”
“Why would you think that?” the disembodied wall voice hissed.
“Mother fucker,” I screeched, grabbing a pillow off the bed and hurling it at the wall. “Do not scare me like that. I’ve had enough surprises today.”
The wall chuckled in reply.
The Demons had unceremoniously dragged my ass through the portal to Hell insisting I was their new queen—like that was ever going to happen. If they hadn’t arrived in such large numbers, I might not be sitting in Hell right now talking to a wall and trying to make my body work, but I was…and I was furious.
However, as unhappy as I was about my new address, I would hazard a guess that my beautiful mate, Ethan, had gone ballistic. He would have arrived at the caves by now where my deadly family reunion had taken place and would know that I’d been abducted. My gut clenched at the thought of what he would do. His father, the King of the Vampyres, would have clued him in to the somewhat unbelievable story of my pregnancy and Ethan would…Shit, I didn’t know what he’d do, but I needed to get out of here quickly before he attempted to come to Hell and rescue me.
I’d lost enough. I would not lose the man who was my world and I flat out refused lose my baby. Unease skittered up my spine like little mice and I shivered involuntarily as Steven Perry began to belt out Wheel in the Sky. OMG.
Could the talking wall keep me from leaving? Time to find out.
On the far left side of the room was a bay window. I wondered how high up I was and if I could jump. What was I thinking? I could fly for fuck’s sake. I grimaced and stood. I just needed to find a way out of the garish bedroom and make my way to a portal that would take me back to Earth.
Of course since I had no idea what that portal might look like or where to find one, that might prove to be a clusterfuck in the making. Awesome. I needed to figure out where I was.
Walking hurt so I decided to fly to the window and check out the landscape. After two pathetic attempts that resulted in my ass hitting the floor—hard, I realized my powers weren’t the same in Hell as they were on Earth. Not. Fucking. Good.
“Looks like you lost some power, my dear,” the wall said.
“Ya think?” I snapped. Why was I even talking to the wall. It was a wall. I would ignore it and if it got mad—so be it.
My eyesight, hearing and sense of smell were still bionic, but my ability to cloak myself was gone along with my ability to fly. I needed to get the hell out of the room. Staying low and away from the walls just incase they had hands too, I slipped out of the bedroom and made my way down a massive hall. Ironically—or maybe not—Steven Perry belted out Separate Ways. Who in the hell knew Journey had so many hits?
Something was off besides the fact that the walls talked. Why was I able to breath and why in the hell did Hell smell so good? Was I even a Vampyre anymore? If descending to I-have-a-shit-ton-of-money-and-no-taste-and-Journey-is-the-best-band-ever-land meant that I had turned into a full Demon someone was going to pay. 
Not wanting to show fear, but filled with dread that made my heart beat like the drum section of a percussion happy high school band, I stood in the center of the dimly lit hallway. If the Demons had wanted me dead they would have already killed me. I was creeped out that I’d been talking to a wall and had seen no one. It felt like I’d plopped down in the middle of a game with no rules… 
This world was filled with dark magic and Steven Perry…and strangely, I found that combination appealing. Very appealing. It was unlike the foul magic of my Mother or my Father and his minions. This was smarter and a whole hell of a lot more dangerous. Thankfully my body was becoming my own again. The pain was receding although I was still without my undead powers…
Voices. I heard voices…and they didn’t belong to Steven Perry or anyone from Journey as far as I could tell. A man and a girl.
Oh, I wanted to go home. Where were my ruby slippers or at the very least a Fairy Godmother? This was bad…very, very bad.
Moving quietly toward the sound with as much outward calm as I could muster my stomach roiled. Why, why, why did shit like this seem to happen to me on a daily basis? My karma couldn’t be that bad…Suck it up and deal with it. I’d just defeated massive evil. I killed my vicious Father and my bat-shit crazy Mother in the space of twenty minutes. Not something I was proud of or wanted to brag about, but it was me or them and clearly I had more to live for…I was a kick butt half-Vampyre half-Demon who was pregnant. I was a virtual impossibility. I could do this. I’d talk my way out and go home. Or I’d whack a bunch more Demons and go home. Done. No fucking problem. 
However, when I reached the source of the voices my courage disappeared. The sheer amount of magic in the room was like nothing I’d ever felt. The darkness wound around me like a perfectly cut cashmere wrap and the magnetic pull was intoxicating. There was no turning back. It felt right to be where I was in this very moment. I was positive this was where I would get some answers. Luckily I slipped into the room unnoticed. In the spirit of self-preservation and utter terror, I quickly hid behind a massive black brocade curtain as Steven Perry appropriately busted into Who’s Crying Now.
“Dixie, this behavior is unacceptable!” the man bellowed.
          He was magnificent and frightening. His magic was stronger than any I’d ever witnessed. I sipped farther into the shadows so I wouldn’t be seen. Fuckity fuck fuck. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run away, but that was impossible…they would see me. This was a mistake—possibly a deadly one. But, I’d been drawn here by an unmistakable pull. As much as I wanted to disappear, I wanted to stay even more.
The beautiful man stood at least six feet six inches tall and had long raven black hair—identical to the girl named Dixie he was displeased with. She was stunning, yet her demeanor was meek. Their eyes were golden like mine, although his turned a ruby red as his anger mounted. Was the girl related to the man? Who in the hell were they?
Their skin color differed. His was more of a pale mocha and hers was a peaches and cream. They were both long and lanky and reeked of magic. The girl, Dixie, appeared to be about nineteen or twenty and the man? Who knew…
“I’m sorry,” she muttered staring at her fingernails. She picked nervously at the chipped black polish.
          “Would you like to explain these grades?” The air crackled with his anger and energy. He threw the paper to the ground at her feet.
Grades? WTF? This was Hell…people got report cards in Hell?
“Um…I studied?” she whispered, ducking her head to avoid a blow. 
     “No child of mine receives straight A’s.” His voice was soft and menacing. 
I was so fucking confused I almost stepped out from my hiding place, but sanity prevailed and I stayed put.
   “I said I was sorry dad. I’ll try harder to fail next time.”
One question answered…
     “Where did I go wrong?” he lamented. I watched him pace. His presence filled the room completely, leaving little space for anyone or anything else. His very expensive black leather pants and black silk shirt matched his hair perfectly. It was clear the girl loved him and was upset with his displeasure. 
He threw his hands up in disgust, “I’ve given you everything, and this is how you repay me?”
          “Didn’t realize there was a price,” she muttered quietly.
          “Everything has a price,” he hissed. 
Damn, he had really good hearing
Dixie shrunk down low and waited. I held my breath wishing I hadn’t chosen this particular room to explore.
“You will drop the goody-goody act. You will be rude and promiscuous and scandalous. You will not be compassionate unless I am concerned and I expect you to flunk out of The Demon College just like all of your sisters did. Do you understand me?” he demanded.
          “I’m really sorry Dad,” she sounded like a broken record—this was clearly a familiar conversation for them. 
“I am Satan,” he bellowed and the room vibrated. “I have a reputation to uphold. You are a Demon Princess, you have a Porsche, your own bungalow in the most exclusive zip code in Hell and certainly more money than anyone your age should have access to and yet you throw all this in my face? Why Dixie, why?”  He wearily dropped down on the couch next to the girl and she put her arms around him.
          “I love you,” she whispered.
          The ghost of a smile touch his lips. “And I you.” He wrapped his arms around her and looked into her eyes. “Is it true that you donated one million dollars of my money to feed hungry humans on Earth?”
  “Yes,” she buried her face against his chest. “I did.” 
          He heaved an enormous sigh, “I have to punish you, you know.”
          “I know.” 
He put his finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “If I don’t punish you, all hell will break loose down here. No pun intended,” he grinned.
          “Daddy, that pun was totally intended,” she giggled.
          “That it was.” He stood up and ran his big hands through his hair and turned and mesmerizing gaze on her. “You are so like your mother.”
          “And that’s a bad thing?” she challenged.
“It’s an…interesting thing,” he conceded. His voice was melodic and hypnotizing.
          “Yes Dixie?”
          “What’s my punishment?” 
He gave her a terribly evil and intoxicating smile. “I’ll have to think about it.” He turned and walked toward my hiding spot. Shit. Why did I have to be so freakin’ tall? Please walk by me. Please. He stopped a foot from where I hid. I held my new found breath and prayed to everything and anything I could think of…including him.
“Come out, Astrid. I’ve been expecting you.
Sweet baby Satan, this day couldn’t get any worse. Actually it probably could…

Shitfire, hell and damnation. This was bad. Satan was expecting me? How was that even possible? And how did he know I was hiding behind curtain number two? Although he was Satan or Lucifer or Beelzebub or the Prince of Darkness or...
“I prefer Satan. Lucifer is fine on Tuesdays and the Prince of Darkness will do in a pinch,” he said smoothly in his dark, rich voice.
Son of a... I quickly slammed my brain doors shut and hoped I still had at least that ability. Test it, my filterless and quick to come up with horrific ideas brain told me. Fine…Satan is a douchebag who wears ladies underpants and picks his nose...Nothing. No reaction. Thank you Jesus and Buddah and Moses and Judas and whoever else was kind enough to be helping me out at the moment. Wait. I take back the Judas thing. Don’t want to pray to a dude who gets people crucified. Dumb, dumb, dumb. I idly wondered for a moment if Judas lived down here. Focus. Satan was on the other side of the curtain I was hiding behind and he’d requested the pleasure of my company. Fuck.
I was southern and I had manners. If I could teach art to genital obsessed seniors, I could converse with Satan. Right? Right. If he was expecting me, he was probably aware of my recent patricide and matricide…Would he be impressed or pissed? After all, my Father had been in charge of Hell. Wait. How was my stanky Father in charge down here if Satan existed? This made no sense. Were the Vampyres wrong? Was my Father a big fat hairy liar? Who in the hell did I kill an hour ago? Was he even my Father?
“I’m waiting,” Satan informed me in a tone that got my feet moving quickly.
“Hi,” I said as I burst from the curtains and shoved my hand out to shake his, acting like it was the most natural thing in the world to be eavesdropping on the King of Debauchery’s conversation from behind black brocade. “I’m Astrid and there was clearly some major fuc...mistake. I don’t live down here and I’m not dead. Well, actually I am dead, but not dead-dead. I’m undead and my undead, um…husband is going to be pissed. I’m a newlywed of sorts in a Vampyre undead way and I need to go home, your Honor of Darkness. Now.” I expelled a loud and long breath as I hadn’t inhaled through my insane diatribe. 
“Interesting,” he purred and watched me. He hadn’t taken my hand and I let it drop limply to my side. “So you’re the Chosen One.”
“Apparently,” I snapped, annoyed that he didn’t have the decency to shake my hand. “And you’re the bad guy.”
“Occasionally,” Satan laughed and all the air left my lungs. God, he was beautiful…and scary.
“Cigarette?” he offered holding a pack of my favorite brand out to me.
I was soooo tempted. I could breathe for God’s sake. Would one measley cigarette hurt me? Um, yes. Yes, it would. In my struggle with temptation, I’d all but forgotten I was pregnant. Would I have taken it if I didn’t have my little miracle inside of me? I’d like to think no, but I wasn’t too sure. Hell was going to be hell.
“No, I quit,” I said looking away from my former vice.
“Such a shame,” he replied watching me intently.
It was if he could read me without diving into my mind. Shit. Time for a change of subject…“I thought my Dad was in charge down here.”
“You do realize down is a misnomer,” he informed me. He was in my space and I itched to take a step back, but knew in my gut if I moved away I would lose a few points in whatever fucked up game we were playing.
“I’m not following,” I said politely, very aware he avoided my statement.
“My dear beautiful creature,” Satan said moving even closer. “It’s a misconception is that Hell is below and Heaven is above. What does that even mean? Nothing is up or down, that’s just mundane human mythology. Most likely the poor mortal fools made the mistake because Hell is occasionally called the Underworld. So very literal, those humans…Hell and Heaven are simply on different planes, accessible through Portals. Earth was modeled after a combination of the seasons, climates and terrains of Heaven and Hell. We all share the same moon, sun and stars.”
“Interesting. So about my father…” I said ungracefully changing the subject. Again. Although what he said was fascinating and I did want to know more I was in a bit of a time crunch. The faster I could get out of here the better. I was certain Satan already knew if he was going to kill me, so I had very little to lose. I wanted answers not a history lesson.
“Yes,” he replied silkily. “Tragic ending.”
“Who was he?” God, the Devil was more cryptic than the Vamps. “I thought he was in charge down here.”
That stopped the Devil in his tracks. “Did he tell you that?” he demanded in a voice that made my stomach drop to my toes.
“Um, no…not exactly. I guess I just assumed or maybe my mom told me.” Under no circumstance would I tell him the Vampyres believed my dead pappy, Abaddon, was the leader of the Underworld.
“How rich,” he laughed, going from deadly back to blindingly beautiful in the matter of a moment. “Your father,” he spat derisively, “was definitely not in charge here. He was my minion and managed a certain—how shall I put it—area of Hell…but he was weak and stupid—unfit to rule.” 
I stayed silent. The way he stared at me made my skin heat. He was breathtaking, but I wasn’t pulled to him in a sexual way. It was a power thing…I think.
“Daddy, you should tell her more,” Dixie said quietly from across the room. I’d forgotten she was still here. Her Father’s presence was so large and overwhelming everything around him disappeared.
“She’s on a need to know basis,” he informed his daughter. “Welcome to Hell, Astrid. Say hello to your cousin, Dixie.”
“My cousin?” WTF? If she was my cousin then he was my…
“Uncle,” Satan supplied as I quickly re-shut the faulty doors in my mind. Damnit to hell, I was one walking defect…nothing worked.
“That’s just awesome,” I gushed inching my way to the door, “but I have to go. It’s been kind of lovely meeting you and I seriously hope we don’t have too many get togethers and…”
“Halt,” my Uncle the Fucking Devil hissed.
I did.
“Don’t you think it only fair that you learn about your other part of your heritage?” he half asked-half insisted turning his back on me.
“Um, no that’s okay. I’ve seen enough in the last couple of hours to last a life time…a long one—like mine.”
“Unacceptable,” he replied so quietly I wasn’t sure I heard him, but the if look on Dixie’s face was anything to go by, things were about to get hinky. Shit. “You will stay here until I deem it reasonable for you to leave. You will immerse yourself in the Demon culture and you will get to know your family.”
“There’s more than just the two of you?” I asked hoping there wasn’t.
“Oh yes, my lovely niece. Many more.”
“There will be people looking for me,” I said racking my brain for any excuse to leave.
“That should be fun,” Satan grinned and I almost fainted. His charm was addictive.
“The longer I’m here the better the chance that there will be problems for you.”
“Trust me my dear, there are already problems…Plus time runs differently here than it does on your chosen plane,” he said and turned to leave.
“What the hell does that mean?” I demanded. I had no clue if he knew I was pregnant, but if time was screwed down here what did that mean for my baby?
“It means,” my uncle replied slowly while staring me down, “that I determine how much time you miss on Earth. A week here could equate with a minute in your world…or it could equate to a year or ten. That my dear will be up to you.” 
“To me?”
“Yes, good behavior will be in you favor. Remember that.”
With that he disappeared in a blast of black glitter and smoke.
Son of a bitch, this day just kept getting worse…
“Come with me,” my cousin Dixie said. “You’ll stay at my place during your visit.”

I rolled my eyes at the use of the term visit, but didn’t correct her. There was something fragile and trusting about Dixie. Honestly, I kind of liked her, but more than that I was hoping I could use her to get the hell out of…well, Hell.


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ALSO check out my website. It's really pretty and you can find out where I'll be signing this spring!!!

Thursday, January 2, 2014


HOW TO TITLE A BOOK.........trust me, it’s not easy!

I’d have to say that writing a book is easier for me than coming up with the title. Thankfully I have some really good friends and beta readers who I have blackmailed into coughing up really good titles!! KIDDING! My peeps are brilliant and have come through for me every time. I thought you might find it interesting to see the list I sent to Kensington (my publisher) for the book that was ultimately called SIZE MATTERS. Of course the entire time I wrote it, I referred to it as SHE LIKES THEM BIG AND HAIRY....I found that title delightfully disgusting and fun. This did not sit well with the powers that be in NY. I still love that one, but am thrilled with SIZE MATTERS too. My thanks goes to author Kris Calvert for that one!!! 
xoxo Robyn
PS Happy New Year!!!

(The letter to my editor)

 Oooookay, Here we go....Clearly some of these are for my pleasure and would suck as titles! I’m still very partial to SHE LIKES THEM BIG AND HAIRY!, but that’s just me!! If none of these suit, I will send a new buttload tomorrow! Just let me know. I want to capture the fun of the book and it makes me so happy to be left of center. Hmmm...I wonder why.

1.The Big Hairy Deal
you know what they say about big feet…

2.Big Hairy Deal
you know what they say about big feet…

3.The Bigger They Are...

4.She Likes Them Big and Hairy

5.Stop, Squatch and Roll

6.Is That a Squatch in Your Pocket, or Are You Just Happy To see Me?

7.Why Didn’t You Tell Me it Got Harder?

8.How Hard Can It Be? 
Part Two....
Big Foot. Really?

9.Size Matters
A Girl, A Guy and Big Foot

10.Things Just Got Hairier

11.A Hard Man is Good to Find

12.Looking For the Big One

13.And Yeti Said He Loved Me...

14.Lust and Found

15.Big Man Hunt

16.The Harder the Man, The Bigger He Falls

And if you’d like to read the story that spawned all these titles go get SIZE MATTERS!!!!!!! Here’s the back cover blurb!

A few hard truths...Don’t bet on The Hasselhoff, Bigfoot might actually exist, and searching for the impossible may lead you to your hearts desire

It’s a big fat hairy deal when I lose yet another bet to my best friend Rena. Not only do I end up attending Bigfoot meetings with her kooky Aunt Phyllis, I find myself traveling with a band of  reality TV, Sasquatch-hunting nut-jobs! Not to mention a suspiciously shady film crew. As if those little nuggets weren’t enough to send me on the express-train to Crazytown...I stupidly swore off men! 

Clearly all this would mess up any gal’s social life, but the worst part of the story? The minute I send my libido on vacation, I meet Mitch. Yep, Mitch, the sexiest cop ev-ah. The hottest, best kissing, finest tushied, SINGLE guy I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’d rather be hot on his trail than anything that involves the word Big or Foot. But sometimes what you’re hunting for is right in front of you all along …

Here's the Amazon Link- http://www.amazon.com/Size-Matters-Handcuffs-Happily-Afters-ebook/dp/B00DV1ISS6/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1388719563&sr=8-3&keywords=robyn+peterman

Barnes & Noble- http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/size-matters-robyn-peterman/1116110219?ean=9781601830630

Saturday, October 19, 2013


 Over 2000 "LIKES"  WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!!!! Thank you so very much! This is for all of you who have "liked" my author page and even for those of you who haven't!!!!!

As promised here is the prologue and first two chapters of COP A FEEL!!!! YAY! It’s the third book in the Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters series that I write for Kensington. If you enjoy it and feel the aching need to get caught up........you SHOULD read HOW HARD CAN IT BE? (out now) and SIZE MATTERS (out December 19th)
This one has been a freakin’ blast to write. Of course I’m still writing it, so I should probably shut my cake hole. There’s not a cover yet but as soon as it’s ready I’ll show it to you! I’ve seen a rough draft and it’s as rockin’ as all the others! Cop A Feel will be released June 2014.
And now..........a little taste of COP A FEEL.

“Is your name even David?” I asked as I yanked my panties back on.
“Is yours Melanie?” he inquired, buttoning his jeans.
“I asked first,” I countered wondering for the umpteenth time why being an idiot came so easily to me. 
“Not David.”
“Not Melanie.”
We dressed in silence. I glanced around the hotel room and felt the need to do damage. Unsure if I wanted to damage him or myself, I decided to get the hell out before I did something else I would regret.
“You know, I can’t believe I’ve been sleeping with you on and off for a year and I don’t know your real name,” I said as I slipped my gun into its holster on my hip, promising myself I would never lay eyes on his ridiculously gorgeous nude body again.
“Back at ya, Ice.”
“Like your eyes, pretty girl. Icy blue and cold. I figure since you’re not going to tell me your real name, I’ll just give you one that fits.”
“How about I call you, Ass?” I snapped. What in the hell was wrong with me? He didn’t force me to do anything I wasn’t more than willing to do. True, he didn’t give his real name, but neither did I.
“I’ve been called worse,” he chuckled, revealing even white teeth and an orgasm-inducing smile. “When will I see you again?” He adjusted his bulletproof vest and slipped his knife back into his boot.
“Let me think,” I purred, enjoying how my change of tone stopped him in his tracks and piqued his interest. “Never. You will never see me again. I’m not interested and I’m tired of screwing someone I can’t trust to tell me his real name.”
“Turn about is fair play,” he grinned. He checked the safety on his gun and secured it at his hip. “And I think you were pretty interested twenty minutes ago when I made you see Jesus.”
“Oh. My. God. You did not just liken sex with you to a biblical experience,” I sputtered. His ego was bigger than his dick and his dick was nothing to scoff at. 
“If the shoe fits…”
Listen, David,” I ground out between clenched teeth. “You’re a decent lay and all, but you’re not that good. I’m turning over a new leaf and I’m done having meaningless sex with asshats.”
“Good luck with that, Ice,” he replied enjoying himself too much for my liking. He beat me to the door and flipped the lock. “I’ll see you around,” he shot back over his shoulder as he walked away.
“Don’t bet on it,” I muttered and grabbed my purse.
“Oh, baby, I’m a gambling man,” he laughed as he disappeared from my sight and hopefully my life.
I slumped down on the sex-destroyed bed and dropped my head into my hands. I had to get my damned life together. Was this all I had to look forward to? Mind blowing sex with assholes not named David? The sex had been biblical, but the after-shame was getting debilitating. I was far better than this. What would my mother think? Or my brother, for that matter? I shuddered at the thought. I was an accomplished woman at the top of my game and I deserved more than I allowed myself to have.
 Done. I was done.
I grabbed my handcuffs that had unfortunately been put to very obscene use about a half an hour ago, and left. I considered leaving my non-traceable Go-Phone in the room so there was no chance of another hook-up, but I needed it for work. With one last wistful glance at the sin-bed, I walked out of that room and into my new and improved life.

Chapter One

Three Months Later

The office was small but tidy. My gut clenched in anticipation of the dressing down I was about to receive. I glanced at the organized stacks of paper waiting to be filed sitting neatly next to a pile of romance novels. I grinned and grabbed one; anything to take my mind off my latest major fuck up. I’d been out of the hospital for nearly a month and I was ready to work again. I just needed to take my stern talking to and get on with it. I paged through the book and snorted. Why my boss kept this crap here was a mystery to me. I wondered if he read them.
Romance was for people who believed in fairy tales and I didn’t. Life was real and most people were bad. I skimmed the book and rolled my eyes. Nobody looked that good first thing in the morning and making out without brushing your teeth at seven am was not my idea of a good time. Damn, the sex was pretty good. 
Of course, that made me think about not David, the egotistical wonder dick. I hadn’t Go-Phoned him him and he hadn’t Go-Phoned me and since we hadn’t made any other strangers-with-benefits rendezvous, I hadn’t seen him in months. That smarted a little bit, but it was for the best. Great sex was great sex. I could get that anywhere. Although, he’d kind of ruined me. I hadn’t slept with anyone but him in over a year. Whatever. At least he didn’t know that.
I nervously tucked the stiff blonde hair behind my ear. Where in the hell was Steve? I knew I had it coming. I’d blown my cover twice in six months and that didn’t bode well. I’d considered cutting my hair and coloring it before my meeting to show my boss, yet again, how easily I could disguise myself, but I figured a wig would do the trick.
Blonde wasn’t really my color, but the last time I’d gotten an ass-chewing I’d worn a red wig. Men preferred blondes according to Marilyn Monroe and although Steve was gay, I figured being blonde couldn’t hurt.
The ruckus in the hallway yanked me out of my pity party.
“This is ridiculous,” a female voice shrieked. “You’re not a fag. You fathered our two children and slept with me for…”
“Enough,” my boss Steve ground out. “We’re divorced and I am happily re-married. You’re not allowed here and if I have to get a restraining order I will.”
“You can’t marry a man. It’s against God’s will. You’ll burn in hell and you’ll deserve it,” his not so lovely ex-wife hissed.
“Jesus Christ, Helen. You need to leave now before I do something I will regret. Although there’s not much I would regret at the moment.”
“I’ll leave,” she said airily. “But you’ll come back to me. Take this and read it. See the light, Steve. When you do, I’ll be waiting.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” he muttered.
I heard her heels clack down the hall. And that right there was why I would never get married. I’d rather chew glass and swallow it than deal with that kind of bullshit. Not that I’d get a divorce because I’d realized I was gay, but there were myriads of reasons not to be involved with anyone. Ever.
“Sorry about that,” Steve sighed as he entered the office and tossed the Bible she’d obviously given him into the trash. “That was stressful to say the least.”
“Um, are you okay?”
“I’m just dandy.” He grimaced and took a seat behind his desk.
My boss Steve was a great looking man in his late forties. Sandy blonde hair and built like a brick shit-house. An ex-Navy Seal. From what I knew about him, he could kill a man with his bare hands and I was fairly sure he’d been tempted to do just that to his ex-wife. He had two kids that he was devoted to and a husband that he adored. Clearly that didn’t sit well with his ex-wife.
“Sorry you had to hear that,” he said. “That doesn’t belong here.”
“No problem,” I said feeling awful that I was adding to the weight of the world that had very obviously landed on his shoulders. “So, um…you wanted to see me?”
Steve tented his fingers, rested his chin on them and stared at me. I fidgeted with my wig and put the novel back on the edge of his desk. Fuck, why wouldn’t he say something? Never one to let a silence live out its life…I filled it.
“So I know you’re a little unhappy with me at the moment, but I had no choice. Back up was stalled in traffic and the fucker was going to get away. I had to move. He sold to kids,” I said at light speed in an effort to make him see there was no other way. “Three sixteen year olds had already OD’d and he was scheduled to get a shipment that would hook and kill God knows how many others and I …”
“Do you have a death wish?” Steve asked quietly.
Shitballs. Yelling I could take. Yelling I could understand and process. Quiet was bad, really bad.
“No, I…”
“It seems to me that you do,” he said and tiredly ran his hands through his hair. “You broke procedure and could have been killed.
“But I wasn’t and I…”
“This time,” Steve interrupted me in a hard voice that shut me up quick. “This time you weren’t killed, by sheer luck…not skill. You blew your cover with a cartel that wants your ass and will stop at nothing to get it.”
“I stopped a thirty million dollar transaction and I won’t apologize,” I told him adjusting my wig that had slipped forward due to the fact I’d forgotten to pin the stupid ugly thing on.
“Show me your stomach.”
Goddamnit, I didn’t have time for this. “My stomach is fine,” I replied, straightening the neat piles on his desk.
“Show me your stomach.”
I heaved a put upon sigh and reluctantly lifted my shirt to reveal an angry jagged red scar. I’d taken a knife to the gut in my latest assignment gone awry. Of course the other guy fared much worse…like six feet under worse. Luckily his knife had missed all my major organs and arteries. 
“Jesus Christ, Candace,” he muttered. “That’s it. I won’t go to your funeral young lady.”
“You’re not my dad,” I shot back, worried about where the conversation was headed. He never called me Candace…always Candy or kid or idiot. Not Candace.
“Nope, I’m much worse. I’m your boss.”
“So what are you saying? I’m fired? I’m reassigned? I’m what?” I asked in a voice I didn’t recognize.
“You need a break. You’re too involved; lost your objectivity,” Steve said watching me closely. “The drug dealers and the kids are hitting too close to home.”
He was right and he was wrong; not that I’d admit the right part. I was an undercover DEA agent because my sister had died from a drug overdose when we were little more than kids. My brother Mitch had become an agent first. Needless to say no one was overjoyed when I chose the same profession. My mother’s fear of losing another child had almost debilitated her, but doing nothing had almost destroyed me. It was my way of paying tribute and it fit me. I was good at it. I needed it. I’d had to fight my parents and my brother on my decision. To this day, I felt their disapproval and doubt. It mattered to none of them that I’d been at the top of my recruit class, spoke three languages fluently and had more weapons expertise than even my hotshot big brother. 
My boss Steve had been the only one who had believed in me after I’d come out if training. He’d taught me the finer arts of jimmying car doors and disguise. He’d taught me the difference between revenge and justice. He’d been harder than hell on me and I loved and appreciated every moment of it. He’d believed in me and now he didn’t…
“I know I screwed up and I promise you that I…”
“Save it,” he said slapping a folder down on his desk in front of me. “This is your medical report. To say that you’re lucky is an understatement. This…” He pushed the folder toward me angrily. “This is proof of what being emotionally involved can do. It makes you sloppy and useless to me.”
I said nothing. He was right. I was a constant blur of motion. Trying to fill up holes I couldn’t define.
“There is strength in stillness and order. Protocol exists for a reason. Staying centered and uninvolved means you live to see another day,” Steve said pulling out another file.
I know all that,” I insisted. God, if I lost this job I had nothing. Less than nothing.
“Intellectually, maybe,” he conceded. “But you’re a liability to me at the moment and you’re in no shape physically to go undercover.”
“So you’re firing me?”
“Hell no,” Steve chuckled. “You’re one of the best agents I have. Once you’ve healed and gotten your head back on straight, I’ll kick your ass and send you back out.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and my tense body went slack. Fuck, I thought my life was ending. In that moment I understood how much my work defined who I was. Whether that was good or bad I had no clue…it simply was. Certain that sharing my revelation with Steve would be a bad thing, I kept my mouth shut. Difficult, as there was a silence I was tempted to fill.
“So what am I supposed to do?” I asked myself as well as my boss.
“Do you want to go to your parents?”
“God no,” I shouted and then slapped a hand over my mouth.
Steve’s eyes narrowed and he waited. He knew my parents. He knew my brother. Hell, my brother Mitch had been one of his best agents until he fell in luuurrve and got out to become a plain old boring cop. 
“If my mom knew about my stomach, she’d lock me in the house and go into a deep depression. I’m twenty-six and I will not go back,” I snapped.
“A family that loves you is not the worst thing in the world,” Steve said in his fatherly tone. I hated the fatherly tone.
“Yeah, well, a family that disapproves of what I do isn’t going to be to excited about a knife wound in my belly. Just sayin’.” I grabbed the silly romance novel and changed the subject. “You read this crap?”
“No, Kevin does,” he laughed.
Kevin, Steve’s partner, was every bit as good looking as Steve. Many straight women had shed real tears upon learning the two men were gay and happily committed. Where Steve was intense and brooding, Kevin was light and joy. They were wonderful parents to Steve’s kids; far better than his religious zealot ex-wife, Helen.
“Well, these books are ridiculous. Happily ever after’s don’t exist,” I snorted.
Steve shook his head sadly. “Ah, you have much to learn, Candy.”
“Give me a break,” I snorted.
“Exactly my plan. You’re going on light duty until the doctors and I deem you ready for the field again.” He opened the folder in his hand and skimmed the contents.
“Light duty? You’re kidding me. Do you want me to file and answer phones?” I asked sarcastically.
 “Nope,” he grinned. “I’d like to keep my business. Your social skills leave much to be desired.”
“Social skills are for civilians and fucktards,” I snapped, unfortunately proving his point.
Steve cocked his head to the side and waited for me to bury myself deeper. I was a loose cannon, but I wasn’t stupid. I stayed quiet. Difficult, but possible.
“God help the man who tries to tame you,” he laughed and removed several sheets from the folder.
“No man will ever tame me,” I told him confidently. “Romance is for sissies.”
“How exactly should I take that? As a slur to my manhood or my sexual preference?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
No, I…shit. Um, I meant that it’s, you know…” I mumbled and felt the heat crawl up my neck.
“Candy, you’re missing out on a few things in life. Like a life mainly. I want you to take this light duty time to ease up and live a little. Have some fun for God’s sake.”
I had no freakin’ clue what he was talking about. A life? I had a life. I saved lives. And I had fun. I, um enjoyed tons of things, like…Whatever. This was ridiculous.
“Just give me my pansy-ass light duty assignment and let me get back to work.”
Steve observed me critically for a moment, then went from father mode back to boss mode. “Fine. A dear friend of mine has received some threats on her life. I’m fairly sure they’re innocuous, but Kevin is freaked out and wants protection for her.”
“You want me find and eliminate the threats?” I asked, my expression hopeful. Maybe light duty wouldn’t suck as much as I thought.
“Not exactly,” he said, folding the papers in his hands and placing them inside the romance novel I’d just made fun of. “I want you on her and watching for trouble.”
“You want me to be a bodyguard?” I gasped, unable to hide my shock and dismay. I was an undercover agent for shit’s sake. Not a rent-a-cop babysitter.
“Yep,” Steve said ignoring my stinky attitude. “Sue is a professor and an author. She’s scheduled to headline an author’s convention in a week and I want you on her. Innocuous or not, a threat is a threat.” He handed me the book with a smile.
“Wait, I have to guard a woman named Sue who writes trashy romance novels because someone may or may not want a piece of her?”
“That sounds about right,” he said. “On, and she goes by Shoshanna. Shoshanna Lehump.”
I waited for the punch line, but it didn’t come. Who in the hell would go by the name Shoshanna LeHump? She sounded like a stripper.
“You’re serious,” I said pinching my thighs to keep from laughing just in case he was.
“As a heart attack. Shoshanna married Kevin after her husband died so he could get his green card. They divorced when we met. Shoshanna actually officiated our wedding ceremony. You remember, the one you were invited to, but couldn’t come because you were recovering from being shot in the ass.” 
That was a low blow. I hadn’t been shot in the ass by anyone. It was actually quite big of  Steve to state it that way. I had shot myself in the ass. I’d been testing a new firearm. The gun had been faulty and the safety was put on backward. Hence, when I put it in my back pocket it went off and I shot myself in the ass.
“I’m a little confused,” I said ignoring his comment about my ass debacle.
“In a round about way, Kevin and I met because of Shoshanna. We owe her.”
“She introduced you guys while she was married to Kevin?” 
“No, no,” Steve laughed. “But that does sound like something she would do. She’s our angel because if she hadn’t married Kevin, he would have been deported and we never would have met. She’s the reason my life is full.”
I was so tempted to roll my eyes, but I adored Kevin. And I loved Steve. And they loved each other. Hell, Steve sounded just like my pussy-whipped brother Mitch. He fell in love with Kristy when we were all on a bizarro drug bust that involved Bigfoot. Kristy had nothing to do with the crimes. She was with a crew of loonies searching for Bigfoot and was unknowingly the cover for a nasty drug cartel. At first I didn’t like her, but she proved herself in the end. Of course, it also helped that she didn’t really believe in Bigfoot.
“So what’s with the trashy novel?” I asked as he handed it over.
“Shoshanna wrote it. I would suggest you read it so you get a feel for her. Inside I’ve put a list of potential suspects. You can question them this week before you leave for Wisconsin.”
I looked the list over. Several professors at the U where this Shoshanna gal worked seemed to have rather large issues with either her success as an author or her subject matter. Some old woman named Evangeline O’Hara, who had been blackmailing Shoshanna for stories for what looked like twenty years was also on the list.
“Holy shit,” I muttered. “Here’s your threat. The O’Hara woman has a motive like I’ve never seen.”
“I’d tend to agree if she wasn’t still in jail,” Steve said. “Her calls and mail are monitored.”
“I’ll interview her.”
“Absolutely and the professors at the U. Sue’s one of the foremost profs of Women’s Studies and these jack offs are trying to get her tenure removed.”
“Possibly. More likely closed minded bigotry towards her subject matter.”
“Women’s Studies?” I asked, surprised. “What are they? Dinosaurs?” 
“Not what she teaches, what she writes,” he corrected my misassumption.
“What in the hell does she write? Porno?” I laughed.
“Some might refer to it as porno, but it’s technically classified as erotic romance,” Steve said logically.
Again I waited for the punch line. Again it didn’t come.
“So, um…is there anything in the University’s by-laws that make her, um…sex books negate her contract?” I asked. I almost said fuck books. Thank you God that that one hadn’t slipped.
“It’s somewhat vague, but Shoshanna’s lawyers are convinced she’d win and most of the board is backing her,” he said. “But it’s unpleasant and drawing unwanted attention to the University. The longer it goes on the more precarious her position is.”
“I don’t get it. She would win in court. What’s the biggie?”
“The biggie,” Steve smiled at my choice of word, “is that Shoshanna loves the University and would leave before she caused too much trouble and bad press. It would be a sad day for her, the students and academia if that were to happen.”
“Why would someone hurt her then? Wouldn’t it be smarter to just draw it out till she leaves on her own recognizance?”
“Yes and no,” Steve said. “She’s up for several prestigious awards and two of the suspects in particular are up for the same award. I don’t really get it, but apparently in the world of academia the more papers with stars on it you get the more important you seem to be in that strange sub-culture.”
“You think someone would kill or hurt her for that?” I asked memorizing the names for later.
“Doubtful, but I’ve seen stranger.” Steve handed me a card.
“Here’s Shoshanna’s address. You’re expected at dinner tomorrow night. Kevin and I will be there as well as your brother, Kristy, Rena and Jack.” 
That sounded like hell to me. To be stuck in a room with a porno writer and three sickeningly in-love couples would be enough to make me tear my own head off. My brother and his fiancĂ©, Kristy, were bad enough, but Rena and Jack, their best friends were down right nauseating. 
“I don’t think I can make that,” I hedged, racking my brain for a good excuse.
“You have plans? Cancel them. This is work related and you need to have a good time occasionally.”
“I have a date,” I blurted out, my mouth way ahead of my brain.
“Bring him,” Steve said, waiting for me to cop to lying.
“Well, um…David is a little weird and I’d, you know…rather not subject him to my brother before I know if he really, um…you know.”
“What does this David do?” he asked.
“I think he’s a…banker.”
“I see,” Steve said, seeing entirely too much.
“Fine,” I huffed, pissed at myself for lying and pissed at Steve for making me. “I’ll come. Is Kevin cooking?”
“You bet.” He smiled his first real smile of the meeting. “Shoshanna can’t boil water and Kevin still cooks for her a couple of nights a week.”
“Oh shit,” I muttered. “What about the cartel that wants my ass?”
“Taken care of. Sent two agents to Mexico and ended it.”
Fuck. I hated that. I hated that two people had to risk their lives to cover my fuck up. Maybe Steve was right. I needed to get my head on straight.
“Are they okay?” I asked.
“Yep. Got back today. Hell of a ride. Been down there three months.”
Three months? “Can I thank them?”
“Nope. These guys are deep cover. They don’t exist in any database. Not going to screw with that. Just know it’s taken care of.”
“Right,” I said, more furious than ever with myself. My vengeance against drug dealers had resulted two of Steve’s hard core guys having to go to Mexico and clean up my mess. Not gonna happen again. Ever.
“It’s done Candy,” Steve said recognizing my frustration. “They’re back and fine, but it could have gone any way. I wasn’t planning on this, but shit happens. Remember that next time you want to go Rambo on a job.”
“You have my word,” I promised.
“Good. Now get out of my office. I have work to do. Oh, and by the way,” he smirked, “blonde’s not your color. Stick with your natural brunette. It’s beautiful.”
“Yes Sir.” I gave him a mock salute and left. His chuckle followed me down the hall as I yanked the itchy blonde wig off my head and tossed it in the trash. I’d been living on luck and a prayer…and that stopped today.

Chapter Two

The private law enforcement gym was practically empty. It smelled a little musty and the equipment had seen better days, but I loved the place. I’d earned my black belt in karate in this very gym and felt a real sense of peace here that I sometimes had a hard time finding in my daily life. Steve’s implication that I had no life rankled—possibly because it might be true. I just wasn’t sure I was brave enough or cared enough to actually do anything about it. 
Scanning the free weights, I settled on the lighter side. My healing knife wound kept me from a full workout, but I was getting stronger everyday. My physical therapist was blown away by my progress. I was just pissed I wasn’t back to full form yet. I dropped my gym bag on the floor and grabbed some five pounders.
“What are you? A pussy?” an unfortunately familiar voice demanded.
Jesus Christ, who in the hell did I fuck over in a former life to have to keep running into the evil lesbian sisters? 
“Nope, I had a little mishap at work and have to take it easy. What’s your excuse?” I asked eyeing her appalling choice of workout wear. Both Mrs. C and her sister, Edith, were somewhere in their sixties and tended to favor sequins. Even at the gym.
Edith clad in a shiny gold exercise top cackled and punched her sister in the arm. “Yeah, what’s your excuse, you old dyke?”
Mrs. C grunted and walloped her sister back. I idly wondered if they’d get into an all out brawl. At least they weren’t boring…
“Heard you got stabbed in the gut,” Mrs. C said while she simultaneously smacked her sister in the back of the head. Edith came right back and knocked her sister’s feet out from underneath her.
How in the fuck did they know that? “Well, that seems to be the rumor,” I muttered wondering how long I could take dealing with them before I did damage. Although, that would be an unwise choice on my part considering they had been in Vietnam, Special Forces…four tours. I was fairly sure only a few high placed government officials knew of their existence.
“Yep,” Edith crowed as she helped her sister back to her feet. “But rumor also has it that you put a dick-weed drug dealer six feet under.”
“How in the hell do you guys hear all this stuff?” I asked. The info was classified and didn’t hit the media in any way shape or form. “You two run a knitting store, for God’s sake.”
The just stood there and grinned. A smile pulled at my lips because they looked so ridiculous and they either had no clue or didn’t care. I’d met them on the same drug bust where my brother Mitch had met his fiancĂ© Kristy. They were part of the certifiably insane group of nut jobs searching for Bigfoot. Turns out they were far more than poorly dressed lesbian Sasquatch enthusiasts…they helped save the day by booby trapping the trees with knitted snap traps.
“How is it that you lovely ladies are allowed to work out here?” I asked as I switched to twenty pound weights. I was no pussy. I was a dumb ass.
“Give me those goddamned things,” Edith snapped, yanking the weights from my hands. “You wanna reopen that wound?”
“No,” I huffed, annoyed that my pride had gotten the better of me.
“Anyhoo, we work out here because we’re doing some government contract work here and there and the generous city of Minneapolis has no choice but to let us hone our fine machines in their gym,” Mrs. C said, sliding slowly into the splits. Edith, not one to be outdone…joined her.
Had I entered an alternate universe? I was going to be a bodyguard for a smut writer and these two sparkling limber dingbats were picking off bad guys for the government when they weren’t manning a knitting store? 
As I stared at them on the floor, I idly wondered if I could do the splits. Holy hell, I really did need a life.
“So,” Edith grunted, “heard you got quite the cushy assignment.”
“I would truly love to know where you get your info.”
“Not gonna happen.” She gave me a wink.
“Figures,” I muttered. I walked over to the treadmill and prayed our conversation was over.
“You are one lucky chickee,” Mrs. C said rolling out of the splits. “Edith here would give her left boob, it’s the bigger one, to go to the SCREW-Con.”
“I’m sorry, what the hell did you just say?” I asked, sure I’d heard her incorrectly.
“I said Edith’s left boob is bigger than her…”
“Not that part,” I snapped. “The other part.” 
“The SCREW-Con.” She cackled at the look of horror on my face. “Society of Contemporary Romance Erotic Writers. Screw. You get it?”
“Yeah, I got it. Now quit fucking with me.” I blew out an exasperated sigh and waited for the punch line…and it never came.
“Sweet baby Jesus in assless chaps, you really didn’t know,” Edith yelled, enjoying my discomfort. I certainly wasn’t a prude, but I had no desire to go to a convention called SCREW.
“Clearly I didn’t.” I put my earbuds in, cranked up the volume on my iPod and turned on the treadmill. This conversation was done. If there was anything else to know, I didn’t want to know it. Despite the fact that Steve was my boss, I was going to rip him a new one for this. Being taken unaware by two sequin wearing lesbians with uneven boobs was not on my schedule today…and apparently being ignored wasn’t on theirs.
“You’ll be body-guarding one of the hottest pieces of ass alive,” Mrs. C informed me while removing my earbuds. 
“Sweet baby Moses in leather and a ball gag, I pray daily for Shoshanna LeHump to switch teams and come over to the dyke side,” Edith shouted in full agreement of the sexual magnetism of the infamous LeHump. 
Stunned to silence and having no comeback for that one, I stared at them while debating my next move. Taking them down might set me back medically and running meant I really was a pussy. So I tried the next best thing.
“You guys wanna go shoot some stuff? I’m about to implode and I need to find something inanimate to kill.”
“Now your talking sister,” Edith said yanking me off the treadmill and out of the gym.
The gun range was empty. After signing in, the old gals announced that the targets were insulting and had just what we needed to spice it up. They set up targets that made Mel, the owner cringe and threaten to ban us for life. Edith had a couple of words in private with Mel and to my great surprise, he turned a blind eye. Those crazy women set up an old computer, two toasters, a vacuum and a mini-fridge that they just so happened to have in the back of their car. They drew tiny bulls eyes on the appliances and started making wagers. Color me impressed. Maybe these gals weren’t so bad.
“Youth before beauty,” Mrs. C grunted, getting into her zone.
Laughing, I put on my ear protectors and goggles. Holding my Glock in my hand made me go to my calm happy place. I aimed and I fired—over and over and over.
“What the fuck?” Mrs.C gasped. “Guns down.”
We holstered. She walked over to the appliances and whistled.
“What?” Edith shouted, still wearing her hearing protection.
“Clean bulls eye on every one.”
“Clean a bull’s what?” Edith yelled.
“Take your goddamned head gear off and get a look at this shit,” Mrs. C said, squatting down to get a better view.
Both women eyed my handiwork silently, crossed back over to me and stared.
“Do it again,” Mrs. C demanded. “Do it right now.”
“No prob.” I grinned and reloaded. And I did it again—and one more time for good measure.
“Jesus Christ in a corset, you should have sniped with us in Nam,” Mrs. C whispered reverently.
“Wasn’t born yet,” I said enjoying myself for the first time in a while.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. I think I came in my shorts,” Edith added, saluting me.
“Gross,” I groaned backing away.
“Don’t worry yourself,” she cackled. “You’re too young, too skinny and too straight. It’s your shooing that gave me a woody.”
“Guys, enough. I’m a good shot. I’m supposed to be. I’m an undercover DEA agent, for God’s sake.” I rolled my eyes and debated if they needed an anatomy lesson. Although who knew? Maybe they had dicks…
“She the best I’ve ever seen,” Mrs. C muttered.
“Not better than Mag the Hag,” Edith insisted.
Both women dropped to their knees, genuflected and quietly murmured Mag the Hag repeatedly.
Fuck, just when I was beginning to think they were kind of normal.
“Do you think it’s possible?” Edith asked her sister, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Could be,” Mrs. C said rising to her feet.
“Um, guys you’re kind of freakin’ me out here.” Maybe it was time to go. Mrs. C’s iron grip on my arm made escape impossible.
“She died in my arms. She was the best sharp shooter that ever lived.” Edith’s eyes welled with tears making me notice her glittery yellow eye shadow. How had I missed that?
“I’m sorry, I know how it is to lose someone you love.”
“I didn’t love her,” Edith laughed. “I hated her fucking guts, but I admired the hell out of her and would have done her if she was a dyke.”
“Okay, then—gotta go,” I told them removing my goggles and peeling Mrs. C’s claw off my arm.
“Mag the Hag, are you in there?” Mrs. C screeched in to my ear, definitely damaging my hearing.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re insane and a menace to society. Not to mention, your dress sense is vomitous,” I shouted and put my hand to my ear to check for blood.
“It’s her,” Edith said dropping to her knees in front of me.
“Who’s her?” I asked glancing around in alarm.
“You. You’re Mag the Hag reincarnated,” Mrs. C rejoiced trapping me in a bear hug. “God, I’ve missed you, you stinky bitch.”
“I’m not Mag the Hag,” I said, but being wedged in Mrs. C’s armpit it came out a little muffled.
“Of course you are,” Edith tsked and bent to kiss my feet.
“This is the most glorious and fucked up thing to happen in at least three weeks!” Mrs. C claimed, hugging me tighter.
“I really think you ladies need some help,” I squeaked trying to get some air into my squashed lungs. 
“I’m gonna call Homer in DC. This will blow his mind,” Edith giggled after she’d finished adoring my feet. “He’ll offer you a job so fast it will make your head spin.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I gasped, miraculously breaking away from Mrs. C. “I have a job already and I’m not Madge or who ever you whack-jobs think I am. I’m Candy and you’re bat shit crazy.”
“Exactly what Mag the Hag would have said,” Edith shot back, secure in her debatable sanity that I was their reincarnated buddy.
“Okay then, I’ll just be going.” I grabbed my gun and quickly stowed it away. “I’ll see you guys when hell freezes over and I hope you have an interesting rest of your lives.” I made a run for the door.
“Hell froze over last Tuesday,” Mrs. C shouted joyously as I hustled away. “We’ll see you this weekend. We have a lot of catching up to do. You’ve been dead for years!”
“Not gonna happen,” I muttered as I slammed the door behind me only to be followed by their laughter as I high tailed it out of the building. 

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