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

  One benefit to Fleur vanishing and Philip taking a hike? I quickly moved Grace into the room vacated by the photojournalist and handed over the keys of the annex to the decorators who moved on the place like their lives depended on it and just in time. 


  I did one last sweep of the vacated rooms, surprised to find Fleur King's card on the floor under Philip's dresser. What was he doing with it? I really needed to track her down, not to mention the now absent Blackstone liaison. He'd vanished from town without a trace, from what I could tell. And so far any attempt to find Fleur or Pamela for that matter met with nothing. I was beginning to wonder if Aundrea's worries about her missing fiancé were valid, except of course the constant phone calls I fielded the rest of the morning to that effect made me stop caring if Pamela was dead at the bottom of a ditch or on her way to the Caribbean with who I now suspected was an old flame. 


  Shame on you, Fee. Have a bit of compassion. 


Chapter 225: Darkroom