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'm dragged into darkness, both physically and mentally, but I have no concern for the physical.


I'm lost in a spiraling hole so deep and black it devours the calm, my heart, my will to live.


Light flickers, images, pieces of my past, a vortex of memory rewinding slowly at first and then faster and faster until I'm sucked through my life as though I'm a toy bobbing in the center of a tornado that will tear me into tiny slivers as it did Cade.


Birth. Cold wetness and loud sounds, warmth at last, hands lift me, a sweet voice whispers her love in my ear, the scent of her made precious because of our contact.


Growing. Two others, like me, the woman hovering over us, her love as strong as though we'd been born of her body instead of the hard glass tubes of our shelter. And a man, I know him, know him very well, hovering over me too, his smile as kind and gentle and loving as hers. He has a name.


Chapter 108: Rewinding