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.

CLONE THREE: BOOK ONE
The fate of the world lies in the hands of a clone who can't remember anything...
 
"Clone Three." The old man's voice is a softly echoing sound, volume and pitch altering as he speaks, as if over a great distance. "Pay attention, dear. Final instructions." 

Is he talking to me? He must be. His holographic eyes seem to be meeting mine, he looks at me with great expectation. And yet as I lie here and begin to regain sensation and control, I realize I not only have no idea where I am, what I'm doing here. 

I haven't a clue who I am. 
 
Clone Three wakes in a decaying city she is sure doesn't match the one she came from. If only she could remember. She has a purpose at least--she must find her fellow clones and the statue whose image is embedded in her mind. But she is lost, surrounded by a dead and crumbling metropolis, fought over by those who have been altered by the illness that has ravaged humankind, turning survivors into strange and terrible new forms. She must risk everything, including the safety of those who try to help her, in order to fulfill her task. But is she this crumbling world's salvation... or the source of its downfall?
 
Don't miss the exciting sequels! Clone Two and Clone One are now available!

Clone Chronicles

I turn to leave, heart lighter, pass the large container truck parked near the entrance, my mind on travel and reaching New York with new companions.


The moment I clear the obstruction, out into the open parking lot again, I feel something grab my arm. On instinct, the calm long gone, I shriek at the smell, the pull, as something jerks against the thick fabric of my jacket. My eyes are drawn downward, to the Shamble who used to be a girl, her teeth embedded in my sleeve, dead eyes staring straight at me.


My scream is primal, uncontrollable as I try to pull away, reaching out to shove her aside, to free myself of her touch, her scent, the putrid mess of her skin. Flesh touches flesh, my warmth flinching from the cold, spongy feel of her.


Chapter 89: Shambles