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

   Malcolm leaned forward, tapping his driver on the shoulder before sinking back into the soft leather of the seat. I had to admit it was luxuriously comfortable, though I found it hard to settle in as we pulled away from the side of the road and into traffic. Heading for the other side of town at a leisurely pace. My overactive imagination began to whisper to me that no one I loved might ever see me again, that Malcolm had lured me into a false sense of security and now was taking me to die in some remote location where wild animals would dig up my body and eat me and Mom and Dad would never know what happened-


   "Fiona." I started, meeting my host's eyes. His were full of laughter, one hand patting my knee. "Relax. It's just a drive."


   So he said. I swallowed, tried to act casual and failed utterly. "What is it between you and my father?" Way to gush out a question that could get you killed, Fleming. Nice job. Classy.


Chapter 150: Mob Boss