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

  The regular cycle of check-ins and check-outs never seemed to get easier, no matter how many mornings I faced behind the sideboard counter of Petunia's foyer, a smile plastered on my face and staff hurrying behind me with food from the kitchen and Mom's capable hands to the dining room while Daisy handled the annex and the phone rang and my text line blew up all while I did my best not to lose my mind and go completely psycho.


  The endless line of tourists passing through the door on the way to the street felt like a treadmill that then deposited brand new faces that blurred together with the old as my next set of guests arrived. No complaints, no complaints.


  As I waved to a nice seeming couple who mirrored every other nice-seeming couple who'd stayed at Petunia's in the last three years while trying to maintain that sense of freshness that ensured the next set of smiling folks who landed in front of me got my very best.


Chapter 348: Bottom Line