Sea Shenanigans Books

Running a tourist trap for humans in the Bermuda Triangle had sounded like a fine plan—until it wasn’t. With the Sea Hags gunning for our island and ruining our questionably successful business, I did what any desperate Mermaid would do. I called for backup. Of course, getting help from the Otherworld Defense Agency is risky as they don’t usually deal with ocean creatures. Whatever. Desperate times call for crappy measures. Chances are they’ll send freaking Pirates. I hate Pirates… Well, I hate one Pirate in particular. Hopefully, it won’t be the one seafaring jackhole I despise more than any other. Pirate Doug would be an idiot to show his face here after what he’d done. Not only did the dumbass abscond with our treasure, the son-of-a-bitch took my heart with him as well. I’ll tear his sorry ass to shreds if he so much as steps even one hairy toe on my island.

What in the clam shell does a Mermaid have to do to find true love? I’m bored. And if I’m being honest, I’m jealous. I want my sister to have her happily ever after. I do. But I want my own adventures and my own true love. For two hundred years I’ve suffered through one immortal asshat after another while stuck on Mystical Isle. And while running a tourist trap for humans might be entertaining, I’m never going to find my true love in this sea of monotony. Of course, there is a Selkie… the sexiest most idiotic man-seal I’ve ever had the misfortune of swimming across—definitely an asshat. Unfortunately, the dork still invades my dreams on a regular basis. I finally have a shot at an adventure. I must save our island home. However, the mission is to seek out the very Selkie who stole my heart… the same asshat whose Johnson I’d tried to truncate. Holy hell and seashells. Only I would agree to a tsunami waiting to happen. Ask any tuna you happen to see… Who’s the craziest Mermaid? That would be me.

What’s love got to do with it? If you’re Cupid, everything. If you’re me, not a thing in the sea. I don’t believe in love. 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. On top of that, the idiot I’m kind of seeing who shall remain nameless—mostly because I don’t know his name… don’t judge —left red and silver magic all over my skin and hair last time we… umm…went on a date. And guess what? It doesn’t wash off. Poseidon saw me sparkling away and now I’m freakin’ Cupid. Getting to the bottom of this abyss means finding what’s his name and thrashing his fine, smexy behind with my fin. Why does this send shivers of delight all the way to the tip of my tail you might ask? I have no clue and no time to figure it out. Don’t judge. I’m about to give love a bad name.

What could possibly go wrong when a mermaid and a werewolf are sent on a dangerous mission by the drunken, diaper-wearing God of the Sea? Better question. What could possibly go right? Madison 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. I’ve been forced to settle for a few meaningless orgasms with men who disappear when I suggest fun activities, like scaling 20 stories while blindfolded. Look, I know meaningless nookie won’t help me find my happily-ever-after, or even a guy who believes tightrope handstands over the Grand Canyon are fun. But there is someone out there for me so next time I do the horizontal mambo, it’s for keeps. May the gods help me. Well, me and whoever I boink next. Rick Being a vegan werewolf has its drawbacks. I’ve been exiled from my pack and even the petting zoo of deer, rabbits, and raccoons I keep safely tucked away from my fellow weres isn’t enough to banish the loneliness I feel. Talking to myself is becoming dangerous. Just two days ago out of stupefying boredom, I made a wager with myself that I could fly. It didn’t end well. Thankfully Poseidon is sending me on a mission. Unfortunately, it’s with a crazy Mermaid who has a worse reputation for death-defying recreation than me. I have no clue what’s in store, but may the gods help me. Well, me and this swimming hottie, because I’m totally down.

Mix one part Mermaid—one part Genie. Throw in an intoxicated God of the Sea and a few smack-talking Pirates. What have you got? Pandemonium. Petunia’s Pandemonium to be more accurate. Letting the ocean current take me where it may for the last twenty-five years hasn’t worked out so great. So, instead of getting my tail in a knot, I’m making some swimmingly simple changes. —Stay on Mystical Isle with my cousins who love me. —Avenge my parents and eliminate the sea monster who’s wreaking havoc. —Forget about the gorgeous, no-good Genie who left me at the altar… so to speak. —Stay away from Genies until the end of time. —Join Poseidon’s embarrassingly named online dating service for Immortals and get back into the game. What could go wrong?

What in the salty seas could be more important than presents at Christmas time? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Tis’ Christmas time on Mystical Isle and just like the fat bastard in red, I’ve made a list and now I shall check it… twice. Yeah, twice. I might wear a diaper, but I’m not an arse. Battle the human women in sweatpants and snow boots for electronics on Black Friday. Check. Cover each palm tree in lights even though the Mermaids insist they look phallic. Check. By the way, what does phallic mean? Never mind. Check. Moving on. Weave a Christmas tale during family story time on the beach, have a family portrait made in the special sweaters I pilfered, and write a letter to Santa. I mean, fat bastard… Check. Planning activities that may end in bloodshed. Check. That’s what I call a yuletide win, so check-check. It seems I have everything under control and Christmas on Mystical Isle will be unforgettable, or I’m not the Well-Hung God of the Sea, Poseidon. And I am. Check.