No Were To Run

My name is Dima and I’m a Dragon. I’m also going to die soon.

It's a battle I’ve waged most of my life, but now the odds are looking crappy. Before I go up flames, I have to find a way to save my horde and make sure my secret treasure is safe. There is one way I could stick around a bit longer, but the men I’ve met aren’t exactly lining up to save me.

What in hell does a Dragon Princess have to do to find a mate? Offing my father, the reviled Dragon King, would be one way to go. He has a penchant for eliminating any male who shows interest—not to mention he’s been trying to kill me for almost 500 years.  

So my brilliant plan is to take out my father in a blaze of glory—pun intended. However, I have to suck it up and do some stuff I don’t want to do.  

For example, getting along with Dragons who don’t trust me is a horrific challenge even though we share the same goal. That’s why I aligned myself with the rag tag pack of shifters who accepted me and my secret treasure unconditionally. They’re my friends now and I’m keeping them. I’ll fry anyone who dares to speak against my Werewolves, Werecows and the fabulous gay Vampyre named Dwayne.  

Unfortunately the Weres who love me don’t have the kind of fire power I need to take out my father. To get that I have allied myself with a dangerous group of Dragons known as The Resistance. Staying away from the sexy, pompous, fire-breathing, blow hard of a leader is turning out to be a full time job. And no… he’s not even in the running for the mate. Mutual incineration would be inevitable—or sexual combustion.  

You see… Dragons aren’t the easiest of the species to get along with. You can dress us up and take us out, but at the end of the day we’re still the idiots who like a little friendly blood shed and sex—make that lots of sex. 

My life keeps getting more and more complicated, but I’ve run out of options. I’m about to run out of time too. I’m learning there’s no where to run and no where to hide from destiny.

NYT and USA Today best selling author, Robyn Peterman writes because the people inside her head won't leave her alone until she gives them life on paper.
She writes snarky, sexy, funny paranormal and snarky, sexy, funny contemporaries. Her addictions include laughing really hard with friends, shoes (the expensive kind), Target, Coke with extra ice in a Yeti cup, bejeweled reading glasses, her kids, her super-hot hubby and collecting stray animals.
A former professional actress, with Broadway, film and T.V. credits, she now lives in the south with her family and too many animals to count. Writing gives her peace and makes her whole, plus having a job where she can work in her sweatpants works really well for her.