Friday, June 24, 2016


Hi everyone. Today I'm proud and excited to reveal the new cover for Missing Thread, Book 3 in The Georgia Series.

Also, I'm announcing that the E-BOOK is availabe for PREORDER at a SPECIAL PRICE until the Fountain Blue Publishing release date of September 1st. The e-book is available on Amazon and at other fine retailers.

You can order your e-book HERE.

I'm working currently on a page on my website where you can preorder an autographed copy of the paperback. When the page is ready, I'll let you all know.

Visit me on my Facebook Author Page HERE.

Wednesday, June 22, 2016



Have you ever wondered where that lone shoe comes from you see lying in the road? Or the pair of runners tied together and flung over the power line?

I wonder how many upset moms have to buy their kids a new pair when these abandoned shoes mysteriously appear.

I live in a boring little place where nothing much happens and crime is almost non-existent. But still, the Staff-Sergeant in Charge writes a weekly crime report for our only newspaper.

This is his exciting report from the latest printing:

Police were sent out on a disturbance call Friday night at 3 a.m. to Lower Road and Ashbury in Stoney Creek, only to discover a burning running shoe in the middle of the road. Fire fighters soon distinguished the flames. Police have no witnesses to the crime and to date, no one has laid claim to the shoe. 


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Wednesday, June 15, 2016



Watching them, my soul’s warmed. He’s a great father. I couldn’t find a better guardian for our son.

My husband is smart, witty, and a great provider. I think of the first time we met in the grocery store. I knew he was following me.

Him: “Excuse me ... can you tell me where the bread is?”
Me: He’s kidding right? “Uh ... if you avert your eyes to the left. Ta da!”
He turns red and smiles: “I’m so blinded by your beauty, I can’t see.”
Me, groaning: “That’s a terrible pick-up line. Does it ever work?”
Him, laughing: “This is the first time I’ve used it. You tell me.”

I stare at him now, a protective arm around our son. I smile. It did.

I feel a pull.

Time to go. You don’t yet know that I’m dead. A car accident two blocks away.

Goodbye my loves.


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Wednesday, June 8, 2016



Callee grew up admiring her larger-than-life neighbour to the south. She loves sophisticated New York City, the easy lifestyle of San Francisco, Waikiki, the Eagles, Bob Dillon, and Joan Baez.  A prideful people who believed in the land of the free.

But now? She was glad she lived north of their border and not south, where one candidate refers to Mexicans as drug smugglers, rapists, bad people, but some, presumably, are good. Callee watched her grandchildren playing, feeling grateful she didn’t have to explain his words to them.

Her heart went out to her US neighbours who face a tough decision come November; vote to support their party or vote strategically to keep an egotist from power he will assuredly abuse.

The election is the best reality television game show on air. The American people are hostage to a national bridge tournament. 

I hope they won’t be Trumped.


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Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Writerly Wednesday Flash Fiction Picture Prompt - Born to Sing

Happy Wednesday to you all. I missed last week, but here I am again sharing my piece. For those of you who would like an ebook of the first ten stories I wrote, I have a book on Amazon, Nook, and Kobo for FREE. I put these stories together as an offering to readers who don't follow my blog to introduce my writing style, and perhaps want to purchase my novels. So if you have friends or family that you think would enjoy my short ditties, by all means download the book. It is free on if you are in the US. Other sites will follow suit soon. And it's free on Nook and Kobo. Here's the link for Amazon.

Hope you enjoy today's story.

Born to Sing

The stage grip handed her the microphone. She stood in the wings listening to the host, paralyzed with fear, her hands sweaty. Hope I don’t drop the mic.

The M.C. was talking about her but she didn’t hear the words. Why am I doing this?

She heard her name and forced her legs to move. Her eyes scanned the audience. Omigod ... so many people.

The piano man played the intro. Panic engulfed her. This isn’t my song. She turned and he mouthed ‘sorry’. The horn player blew a ditty, turning it over to the piano man who began again.
She stared into the spotlight above the audience, waiting for her cue. She lost herself into the melody and the passion of the jazz piece.

When it was over, she bowed to a standing ovation.

Of course I want to do this. I was born to sing.

Flash Fiction Prompt provided by:

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