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.

Magic woke, stretched, yawned into the late afternoon and the peaceful corner of the wood where long it slept. But what prompted its return to awareness? Pink tendrils of power unwound from deep beneath the earth, the crushed needles and heavy moss. Seeking the source of its awakening with gentle curiosity.
The sun dappled trees gave way to dark orange light while dusk washed over the forest path.
Black robes caught the edges of the remaining illumination in flickers that seemed to absorb into the lush velvet folds, passing over shoulders and cowls, across the tips of the brooms they carried deeper into the quiet of the wood.
She led them, flashes of blue satin lining appearing as she moved, her narrow toed shoes gliding over the hard packed red earth, floating as if she barely touched the ground. And though the four figures moved quickly and with seeming purpose, nature didn’t shun them or their intrusion. If anything, they were welcomed, observed with ancient delight, sent on with the trill of birdsong and the chattering interest of watching squirrels.

Lovely Witches Club

I didn't know how to feel as I walked down the street with Jack at my side. I wanted to focus on him, on what he was saying, but I was out of sorts. That amazing tingling sparkly pink feeling that happened to me twice now, while awesome at the time, had left me with uncomfortable questions and a rather disturbing realization.


The possibility existed none of this was coincidence. Maybe everything I'd been taking for granted wasn't exactly the crackpot make-believe I'd been thinking it was. The idea that magic could possibly be real had never occurred to me. Could the witches brew I'd been fed somehow alter my brain chemistry to make me believe anything of this could possibly be true?


As we approach the door to the local coffee shop, I pulled away from Jack and, unable to meet his eyes, decided it was better to be alone right now. To talk myself out of the crazy that lingered in the back of my mind but just wouldn't let me go.


Chapter 24: Payback