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

  My eyes fluttered open, head aching, heart skipping a bit before it settled down into a more natural rhythm while I did my best to make sense of the foggy surfacing memories floating around in my sore noggin. The acutely acrid scent of chlorine assaulted my nose, warm, moist air making me choke a little. I tried to focus, something hard and damp under my cheek, my hand slipping over what felt like tile as I blinked at the edge of concrete rimming an impossibly blue pool of water.


  I registered where I was as a shadow passed over me, stepping across my legs, his face appearing in my vision and speeding my heartrate as I fought to regain control of my spasming limbs. I'd had stun gun training, thanks to Dad. I'd even had one tested on me for a half-second so I'd know what it felt like, and it wasn't something I'd wanted to repeat. To render me unconscious? My attacker had to have held the gun to me forever.


Chapter 339: Panicked Killer