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.

The blue joy is calling... but can Fresco survive it?

"Do you know what happened to you?" Joey's voice broke a little. Fresco shook his head. The kid nodded, like it was no big surprise." Yeah, me either. No one seems to. We just have normal lives, you know? Then suddenly you wake up with this thing eating into you," he swallowed hard, "and that's it. The rest is Wasteland."

Seventeen-year-old Fresco Conte is an ordinary All-American kid from an upper middle-class family. He plays football. His girlfriend is a cheerleader. Life is good. Until unexplained things, scary things, start to take him over. Like surviving an accident that should have killed him. Or hearing the thoughts of the people around him whether he wants to or not.
 
When the men in the dark blue coveralls come for him, Fresco is forced into addiction to the blue joy known as Wasteland and set free on the street, with no answers and only his hunger to keep him company.

Don't miss the rest of this dark YA urban fantasy series! Wasteland and Diamond City are now available.

Diamond City Trilogy

Joey helped him back to the corner, to Chris and Trevor. Fresco couldn't speak and didn't try. They made it home, helping Fresco through the fence and into the building. He stumbled over the stairs again and again. His grief dragged his limbs to the ground like liquid stone was poured inside him, slowly hardening every part of his body.


Fresco collapsed in a corner, tears flowing freely, hugging his knees to his chest. He could feel the kids around him, hesitant, wanting to reach out to him, terrified he was falling apart, but he didn't care. Fresco couldn't care. Not anymore. He needed his own time to suffer, to turn in on himself and allow his soul to shrivel and crumble away into dust. All at once he felt transparent, hollowed out, with only his guilt left to define him.


Someone draped a blanket around him before they let him be. Fresco buried his face in his knees and went inside his fragile mind, now as weak as spun glass, waiting for the right hammer blow to shatter it.


Chapter 48: Grief Stricken