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

   Except, apparently, it didn't. Because Bill finally leaned forward, hugging Moose's big, furry head to his chest and stared into the flames as he spoke in a voice suddenly shifted from deep and deadened to full of remorse.


   "I had too much to drink that night," he said, "like every other night. But this night instead of just me in the car? Yeah, I had to have that one more beer before I went to the rink to pick up my boy."


   I knew where this was going and almost stopped him but Bill rocked a bit and hugged his dog like he was his son while the fluffy Newfoundland whined and licked his master's face.


   "I fell asleep, been working a twelve hour at the plant. Took the extra because of the money, right? And thought a few beers were a great way to wind up the day. Had to go back out to get the kid anyway. Buckled him in the back, only ten years old." He didn't look away from the fire.


Chapter 61: Bill's Story