I’m an international, multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in my head. As a singer, songwriter, independent filmmaker and improv teacher and performer, my life has always been about creating and sharing what I create with others. Now that my dream to write for a living is a reality, with over a hundred titles in happy publication and no end in sight, I live in beautiful Prince Edward Island, Canada, with my giant cats, pug overlord and overlady and my Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn.

What if Death fell in love with Life and they had a daughter…?

Life or Death
The old man’s body arched, his eyes flying open, a moan escaping his lips while the heart rate monitor speeded before settling into a strong, healthy rhythm. I jerked my hand back, weight in my chest as the mist dissipated and left me to stare at the body in the bed.
While Nero’s hand grasped my arm and pulled me forcefully away, I knew the truth. The old man’s eyes fluttered, opened. And he smiled at me. Alive. Healthy. Full of Life when his fate was Death.
No. Not again.

Her unique parentage ensures Eve isn't like her angel siblings. She brings Death at the beginning of Life and Life to those meant to die. Her continuing failures create constant disaster for her parents and the mortals she tries so hard to serve. But when Eve accidentally interferes with the Loom of Creation, she sets off a chain of events that leads her to finally understand who she really is.

Eternal Daughter

The Loom realm burbled on as happy as it had been the last time I was here, clicking its way into the future of its own accord. Threads flew at a steady pace, winding outward toward who knew where-the Loom realm, for all I understood it, encompassed everyone and everything in Creation from day one until it chugged to an end, finally, hopefully a long, long time in the future.


Chaos reacted with disdain, though she didn't protest all that hard, as though she thought it silly and unhelpful to ponder the odd evolution of this place, of the Loom itself and its present state of being. She'd been silent, I realized, during our time at the beach aside from that one suggestion she'd made, during Kismet's funeral, and I wondered if she even had the capacity to miss the foreteller I'd come to adore.


Chapter 165: The Loom