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

   Skip Anderson loomed larger than life, no surprise there, the massive football player towering over all of us with his dark brown crewcut and fashionable five o'clock shadow, deep brown eyes scanning the interior before locking on his wife. Willow smiled at her husband though she didn't speak. Not that she didn't want to, maybe, but he never gave her the chance.


   "This the joint?" So much for Olivia's nostalgia quote for the masses. Sounded like Skip never heard of Petunia's. And while Willow's dulcet tones soothed and enraptured, his rough and hearty words instantly grated. He tossed a large, leather duffle bag at Julian who caught it with a giant scowl before dropping it to the carpet with a disgusted look on his face. "Deal with my bag, Jeeves."


   The manager's face tightened, Willow's hand rising ever so slightly to silence him while Skip leered at me.


Chapter 83: Skip