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

  It must have been the intensity of my emotions that made the old history surface, like a short in my brain that carried me to the most horrifying and terrifying experience of my young life. Since I'd only recently recovered the memory, it had equally more and less impact on me than had it been with me my whole life. More, in the sense that it was still fresh enough feeling I was continuing to gather details and less because, I think, if I'd been forced to suffer through it for more than the length of time I had now, as an adult, it might have driven me mad.


  Still might. Jury was out at the moment.


  But, it did mean I was able to get control over the images and smoosh them down. My mind was used to doing it, after all, spent a little over two decades hiding it from me and as I inhaled a shaking breath, anxious nerves clenching around my throat, Robert spoke, dispelling the last of the return to childhood and that terrible day.


  "I'm here," he said. "What do you need?"


Chapter 382: Hiding Out