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

 Cutter Lake's smooth surface flashed past the end of the dock as Crew pulled into the parking lot and stopped on the far side of the large, white pickup truck, the cap bearing the Tortuga Divers logo. I parked beside him, waving at Chantal where she leaned against the passenger's door, talking intently with Anja, instant concern tightening the already tense line running up the center of my back to my now aching shoulders at the sight of their grim expressions. A million worries woke, including the nervous anxiety tied to the fact we'd been wasting their time after all and they were pissed to discover the treasure wasn't real. But as I exited my car, hurrying to them while Crew beat me to it, I could tell their anger wasn't aimed at me, at us.


 "Something's wrong." My husband wasn't big on preamble and, frankly, neither was I.


Chapter 451: Complications