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

"Where is he?" The toddler. Fresco saved his life. It wasn't him the Garbagemen took away. He was a boy and still in diapers. So where was he?


The man tried to be brave despite his obvious terror. "You need to leave, right now. We know who you are. They'll be back for you if you don't get out now."


Fresco laughed. There was no humor in it, just a gravely sound over fury.


"Where is the child?" He searched around with his eyes. Not a photo or a memento. Like the young boy never existed.


"They took her." The woman's voice quavered. Connolly, Fresco's memory said. The Connelly's.


"Not the girl," Fresco said. "The one I saved. The little boy."


He could smell him, the scent of a filled diaper mingled with the baby smell of fresh skin and powder. The boy's phantom weight settled in Fresco's arms.


They looked confused. Until the woman remembered.


"That was you." Breathy, intense. "In the accident. That was you?"


Chapter 50: Fake Parents