Ariel’s Antics
Sea Shenanigans, Book 2
Robyn Peterman
www.robynpeterman.com
Copyright © 2018 by Robyn Peterman
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.
This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.
Cover by Rebecca Poole of dreams2media
Edited by Meg Weglarz
Created with Vellum
Contents
Acknowledgments
Book Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Note From The Author
Excerpt: Fashionably Dead
Robyn’s Book List
About Robyn Peterman
Acknowledgments
Starting a new series is delightfully frightening. I love everything about it! LOL And I can’t wait for you guys to read this book. I laughed so hard while writing it it’s embarrassing.
Ariel, Keith and the gang are now some of my favorite people.
Anyhoo, as always, I write the book, but it takes a whole lot of wonderful people to make the magic happen. I am a lucky girl because I have a whole lot of wonderful people in my life.
Renee George, thank you for my beautiful cover. You are the bomb!
Meg Weglartz, thank you. You are the best editor a gal could have!
Donna McDonald, thank you. You are the most brilliant MST partner in the world!
My beta readers—Wanda and Susan, thank you. I adore you.
And to my readers… thank you. I do this for you
Steve, Henry and Audrey, thank you. I love you and you make everything worth it.
Dedication
This one is for Steve.
You’re both my Pirate and my true love!
Book Description
Ariel
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.
Keith
What in Poseidon’s rum soaked arse does a three hundred year old Selkie do when his parents desert him and leave him to fend for himself?
I mean, my Gods, laundry and cooking are dangerous business.
Wait. What would Aquaman do? More specifically—what would Jason Momoa do?
He would save the day and the damsel… I simply needed to find a day and a damsel to save.
Maybe the only thing missing in my life is the beautiful blue haired Mermaid who wants to lop my Johnson off. Wait. No. A Johnson-less Selkie is not something I aspire to.
And to make matters worse, my mother is up my backside for grand-Selkies…
Grand-Selkies mean I have to impregnate someone. Impregnating someone means that I have to find a mate. Finding a mate means I have to get a job and use my gift—whatever that is.
This could be a problem.
Whatever. I’m going for it. Why?
Because that’s what freakin’ Aquaman would do.
1
Ariel
“Gather the swimming hookers,” Pirate Doug bellowed, stomping through the lobby of the resort in his absurdly dated puffy shirt, knee high boots and breeches. “We’ve got a problem.”
I rolled my eyes and tried not to laugh—or groan. He was a Pirate and he was five hundred years old… but come on, did he really have to dress like a Captain Hook wannabe?
“They are not hookers,” my sister Tallulah hissed at her questionably intelligent but very hot—despite the bad fashion choices—mate. “We’re Mermaids and if you can’t remember that I’ll twist your Johnson into a pretzel.”
“Aye, my bad,” Pirate Doug amended with a wide grin as he snapped his fingers and conjured up a steel pecker protector. “Gather the Mermaid hookers.”
I giggled as I watched my sister’s eyes narrow dangerously at her idiotic other half. He was every kind of ridiculous, but he loved Tallulah to distraction and she loved him right back. Training the dumbass to have social skills was taking up an inordinate amount of my sister’s time. Which left running our Bermuda Triangle island tourist business to me and my two other sisters—Misty and Madison.
I was getting bored. And if I was being honest… I was jealous. Not that I didn’t want Tallulah to be happy. I did. I adored my sister. I just wanted to have my own adventures and find my true love too. And I certainly wasn’t going to discover him stuck on Mystical Isle running a tourist trap for humans…
With an exasperated huff at her mate, Tallulah left the lobby and went back to work. However, Pirate Doug being the randy idiot that he was, copped a quick feel of her bottom as she exited. My sister’s squeal of delight made me close my eyes and shake my head. I really didn’t know what she saw in the dummy, but he clearly made her happy.
Me? He drove me nuts.
“Ariel, my lovely blue haired sister-in-law,” Pirate Doug said as he swept grandly up to the front desk that I was manning. “Have you seen my arses?”
“Okay, first of all… gross. As far as I know you only have one ass and if you have more than one I really don’t want to hear about it,” I said with a slight gag.
“Not my arse on my backside,” he explained. “As fabulous as it is, the world couldn’t handle more than one. I’m talking about my crew of arses.”
My lacking in the brains department brother-in-law was referring to his Pirate crew—Bonar, Upton and Thornycraft. And he was correct. They were arses. However, they’d grown on me in the six months they’d been living on the island. They were missing more brain cells than Pirate Doug but they were funny and bizarrely sweet. Understanding them was a slight challenge as they mostly spoke Pirate, but they’d become the brothers I’d never had and never really wanted.
“They’re on the beach leading the human guests in Sunrise Yoga,” I told him.
“Sweet Poseidon on a bender in a rum distillery,” Pirate Doug said, paling considerably. “That’s a shite idea. Might be bad for business.”
“Why?” I asked growing alarmed.
We’d just
reopened our resort. After a drawn out war with the odiferous and toothless Sea Hags, we’d had a lot of rebuilding to do. Even though we now had a truce with the Hags, the damage had been done. We needed paying human guests if we were going to survive in the competitive tourist trap business.
“Upton is very flexible—can lick his own nards. Not sure that will be an appetizing sight before the morning meal.”
“Are you fucking kidding?” I shouted, jumping out from behind the front desk and sprinting toward the colorful seashell encrusted archway that led to the beach.
“No, I’m fucking your sister,” Pirate Doug replied in confusion, running right on my heels.
“No, I meant… never mind,” I huffed. Trying to explain what one meant to Pirate Doug was a losing proposition that could take weeks or years. Most of us had simply given up.
I stopped short and sucked in a horrified breath as I came upon a terrifying sight. Upton could indeed lick his nards and was demonstrating proudly, much to the shock of the guests. He was twisted into a position that appeared incredibly painful. A few humans were snapping photos with their phones. We really didn’t need Upton’s face in his bits all over the internet. I was not of the mind that thought all publicity was good publicity. A Pirate with his lips touching his nards was not good publicity.
“Enough. Take your freakin’ balls out of your mouth,” I shouted. Never in my two hundred years on this Earth had I ever used those words together in a sentence. I covertly aimed a blast of magic directly at the object of Upton’s tongue’s affections.
Luckily the humans had turned their attention to me and missed the sparkling blue spiral of magic that landed exactly where I sent it. It was a well-known fact that Mermaids and other immortal creatures were gifted in the enchantment department, but it was best that the mortals didn’t actually witness all we could do.
“Me nards are on fire,” Upton screamed as he sprinted his naked self across the pristine white sand and into the ocean to cool down his balls. “Ariel, yarr a blue haired, cod faced tar stain,” he grunted right before he submerged his flaming testicles in the salty water. “Ye might be pretty to look at, but yarr an evil wench!”
The only part of his insult he’d gotten correct was my hair color and the fact that I was attractive. All Mermaids aka Sirens were beautiful. We were created by Poseidon to lure innocent men into our traps. That practice was now totally old school. These days the only traps we ran were for tourists and we dated immortal asshats, not innocent men—or at least I did.
A Mermaid’s hair and eyes were set from birth. My color was blue, Tallulah’s was lavender, Misty’s was emerald green and Madison’s was pink. Each Mermaid’s hair and eyes matched and were unique to them. No two were alike. However, the color of our tails changed with our moods and our fashion choices. Later today when I had time to hit the water my tail would be shimmering black—I was feeling grumpy and Upton’s disgusting contortionist act certainly didn’t help.
“So sorry about that,” I said to our guests with a smile plastered on my face that I prayed to Poseidon didn’t look fake. “Please come back to the lodge. Breakfast is served—that is if you still have an appetite.”
A shell-shocked looking group of mortals slowly made their way back to the festive outdoor restaurant at the resort. Upton, having realized he was soaking his injured nut sac in salt water continued to shriek like a girl. Thornycraft, Bonar and Pirate Doug were laughing.
I wasn’t.
I really needed a vacation or an adventure… or at the very least, a day off.
Another day in paradise was sucking the big one.
*
“Upton did what?” Madison asked with her eyes squinted at me.
“Licked his own nuts in front of fourteen paying human guests. Two of them were children. I’m expecting a few lawsuits or at least some therapy bills,” I replied, plopping down on the rainbow velvet couch in the luxurious quarters that I shared with my sisters. It was wildly colorful and eclectic—just like us. Tallulah had moved to her own lovely cottage on the other side of our island with Pirate Doug after they’d mated. This was a very good thing as they tended to be loud.
“Like put his balls in his mouth?” Misty inquired, trying not to laugh.
“Yep. And from where I was standing it looked like his nose was stuck in his crack,” I replied with a shudder at the horrifying memory.
“Pirates are just all kinds of wrong,” Misty said, shaking her head and sitting down next to me. “What are they?”
“What are who?” Madison asked as she snapped her fingers and conjured up three Pina Coladas. “These are virgin,” she promised as she handed one to me and one to Misty. “Not that a porno exhibition on the beach at seven AM doesn’t merit some rum, but I figured we can start getting soused at lunch.”
“What exactly are Upton, Thornycraft and Bonar?” Misty repeated as she retrieved a bottle of rum from the stash we kept hidden under the couch. She topped off her own drink and handed me the bottle.
I took a healthy swig and winced. It was next to impossible for a Mermaid to get seriously drunk, but I was going to try. The day ahead was most certainly going to be filled with mind numbing surprises. Pirate Doug still wanted to have a meeting.
“According to our sticky fingered brother-in-law, they’re arses,” I said with a giggle as I took another swig.
“That’s a given,” Madison agreed and took the bottle from my hands. After chugging the remainder of the rum, she hiccupped and giggled. “But what kind of immortal species are they? I know they’re older than dirt. I just don’t have any clue what they are.”
“Well, Pirate Doug is a Vampire and heir to Poseidon’s throne. I know for sure the arses aren’t Vamps,” Madison said.
“How?” I asked.
“No sunscreen,” she replied. “Ol’ Dougie can’t go outside without 100 SPF slathered all over him.”
“Right,” I said, trying to imagine which kind of creatures the idiots could be. “Well, most animals can lick their nards. You think they’re some sort of shifter?”
“Possibly,” Misty said. “But in the battle with the Kraken, none of them shifted.”
“Hmm,” I said. “Maybe their species is better left a mystery. There’s only so much alarming news I can handle today.”
“Speaking of alarming… does anyone have any idea what Pirate Slug wants to discuss?” Madison asked.
“Nope,” I said, standing up and wanting to get it over with. “However, if the jackhole suggests we wear Hooter’s uniforms again during work hours, I’ll castrate him.”
“Here,” Misty said, clapping her hands and producing a dull butter knife.
“What is this for?” I asked, examining it.
“For member removal,” she said with a naughty grin. “Our brother-in-law can regenerate his limbs and other stuff. If you’re gonna remove his Johnson, you’re gonna make it hurt.”
My grin spread wide across my lips.
I loved my sisters so much.
Having my own true love like Tallulah did would be awesome, but until that time came all my love and affection was reserved for my devilishly fabulous sisters.
Not exactly the perfect situation, but for now it was pretty damned good.
2
Keith
“Get up, you lazy sack of seahorse dung,” my brother Kurt shouted as he poured freezing ocean water over my head.
“Getting my beauty sleep, dong bucket,” I grumbled and gave him a solid gut kick that sent him flying across the room. “What time is it anyway? Seven am?”
“It’s noon, you water logged asscrack,” Kurt said as he dive bombed me and landed an excellent left hook to my face that sent my head snapping back.
“I don’t get up before one,” I growled with my eyes still closed. Without opening them, I kicked his legs out from underneath him as he moved to nail me again.
The sound of him hitting the wall was music to my ears. Prying one eye open, I was pleased to see th
at his head was embedded in the plaster. I was not losing my touch—at all.
“Mom is going to kick your sorry Selkie ass, Keith,” came his muffled threat since his head was still stuck in the wall.
A shudder of terror ran through me. My brother was correct. Our mother’s wrath was legendary and her upper cut was vicious. She would not be pleased that we’d demolished yet another room in the house. Living in one’s parents’ basement didn’t leave much leeway for mass destruction of drywall. Shite, I really needed to get my own place, but then I’d have to do my own laundry and cook.
“Mom loves that we still live at home,” I said, rolling out of my bed and catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Damn, I was a good looking bastard—six foot four of blond haired, blue eyed perfection.
“Ummm, I beg to differ, jackwad,” Kurt said, pulling his head out of the wall. Unfortunately most of the wall crumbled as he detached his head from the plaster. “We’re over three hundred years old. Don’t ya think we should move out?”
He did have a point. Living at home cramped my style a bit. However the laundry thing was a real issue.
“Next week,” I told my brother. “We’ll move out next week.”
“You’ve been saying that for a century,” he reminded me with a grin.
“As soon as I get a job or figure out my purpose in life, we’ll find a nice island full of beautiful women,” I promised.
“Who can cook and do laundry?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
*
“We’re going on vacation,” my mother said, eyeing us with distaste.
“You mean like for an afternoon?” I asked, seating myself at the dining room table and digging into the massive pile of pancakes.
“Nope. We’re going for about a decade or seven.”
“Or ten,” my father grumbled as he smacked my hand before I could take all of the pancakes.
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