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.

A Poo Poo Kind of Morning

I tried not to look down the mouth of hell staring back at me from inside the glaringly pristine outer ceramic shell of the white throne, my throat catching, stomach doing half flips and a rather impressive rollover routine that would have gotten at least a 9.5 even from the Russian judges. Instead, I forced myself to smile and swallow and remind myself the elbow length yellow rubber gloves grasping the handle of the standard issue plunger were all that stood between me and Pooageddon. 

Suck it up, Fee. Big girl panties and adulting and all that. 

“At what point,” I waved the dripping plunger, wincing as droplets of yuck flew, “did I think owning a bed and breakfast was going to be glamorous and romantic?”


Fiona Fleming is in so much trouble. Her recently inherited bed and breakfast might not actually be hers thanks to the underhanded misdealings of the local real estate bully. Despite her grandmother's last will and testament, Fee might me out of luck and on the street before she even gets settled. But when her new enemy floats belly up in her koi pond, she's the prime suspect in his murder! Can she uncover who the real killer is before the smoking hot new sheriff puts her behind bars instead of asking her out on a date?

Dive into book one of the Fiona Fleming Cozy Mysteries, and don't miss the exciting sequels!

Fiona Fleming Cozy Mysteries

The phone was ringing when I walked into the foyer, Daisy handing it off to me almost instantly. She made a funny face, a little worried, so I knew instantly who it was when I sighed into the receiver.


Silence a moment and I wondered if I pegged it wrong before he spoke, enough anger in his voice I knew I hadn't gotten away with my little investigation.


"I just had two people walk into my office," he said. "Pamela Shard and Aundrea Wilkins. They alibied each other. Told me lots of things." He huffed softly on the other end of the line and I could see in my mind's eye his forehead vein popping out, cheeks darkening. "Mainly, that you're responsible for their appearance. Because you didn't listen, you never listen, apparently, when a police officer tells you to stay the hell away from the crimes he's investigating."


"Again," I said, so over his attitude, "you're welcome. Because you really think they would have come to you otherwise?"


Chapter 36: Stumbling Around