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Welcome to my website, where you can find my stories with a difference.
Read about murderous women, strange hauntings and a fight to escape one's past.
My latest book, Tales of Retribution, follows a father and daughter torn apart by his crimes.
IN THE PRESS
My Books
Julia is all too aware of her failings, can't cook, nervous, tongue tied, lacking in confidence. Moving to a country cottage in an isolated spot is just what she needs to lift her depressions and with Mark, her loving husband, new friends and hobbies, life starts to look better.
She is soon displaying a startling change of personality, criticising and belittling people, drinking to excess and shoplifting. Is she bipolar, psychopathic or could her apparent addiction to the water from the old bore hole in the garden be to blame?
Mark sets out to solve the mystery of his wife's strange behaviour in his own logical, but unorthodox, fashion. The history of the house and its surroundings form part of his investigations. This leads to an unexpected turn of events.
How does a cosy Sunday dinner in a small English commuter town between three middle aged women turn into the perfect murder spree? Eve, Dorothea, and Penny decide to take matters into their own hands after incredible tragedy at the hand of conman, Martin Cole. As the public swings between fear of the so-called Vigilante Killer and glee that these fraudsters are receiving their just desserts, will detective Mike Nash and police be able to solve the case? Do they even want to? A gripping yet humorous book of crime fiction by author Fiona J Roberts.r own text and edit me. It's easy.
Joanne, known as Jojo, is the youngest child of the Rushton family. She is blonde and petite and the rest of them are stocky and dark haired. She is clever and the rest of them are not. She wants to escape from her humble beginnings and make a new life, but they just won't let her.When she enters into a relationship with a handsome doctor, Miles, the thought of him meeting her deadbeat family results in her taking drastic action. Having rid herself of one impediment, another arises. Miles' family are also dysfunctional, only in a different way. Further steps, however unpleasant, must be taken.Jojo will do anything to get the life that she wants.
Tales of retribution
Prologue
Alison Travers had been shopping again. Beth was at school during the day and she got bored on her own. Her husband Tim kept suggesting that she should go out and get a job, but what could she do? Yes, she had worked in a department store for a couple of years before she got married, but she couldn’t do that now.
There was no physical reason why she couldn’t work. Alison would describe herself as sensitive, Tim would say she was hysterical. All those members of the public in the shop milling around asking her things? Horrible. What else could she do? Nothing with a lot of people. Nothing with technology. Nothing too far away from home, which meant within a five-mile radius. There wasn’t anything suitable.
Examining herself in the mirror, Alison ran her hands over her stomach and hips. A quick glance over her shoulder at her rear view and then more peering at her front. Her mother, Heather, had drummed into her that she must keep her figure trim. That meant that her time could not be filled by eating and drinking.
Shopping was, therefore, her only outlet. Getting dressed up, full make-up, nice dress, then wandering down the high street and around the department store where she used to work. And what was the point of going to all that trouble if she didn’t actually buy anything? Even the fury of her husband couldn’t stop her making a purchase.
At home, clothes were hidden at the back of the wardrobe, or she would lie about the amount of money she had spent, but it was just deferring the row which would ensue. At some point Tim would examine the bank account statement and all hell would break loose. Maybe a row, maybe something worse.
Each day a bit of cleaning would be done, and then maybe think about what to cook for dinner. Recipe books were stacked on a shelf and Alison had looked at some of them before deciding that it was all too complicated. Keep it simple. Chops and mash potato or a salad. Whatever she made was never good enough.
“Alison, what the hell is this meant to be?” Tim was looking at his plate.
“Oh, please don’t say that. I do the best I can.”
“No, you don’t. You go shopping, file your nails, sit in the hairdresser and then throw something at the oven at the end of the day. And I, who have been working all day, have to come home and eat this slop. Again, what is it, or what was it before it was incinerated?”
“Lamb chops.”
“Yes, yes, now that you say it, I can see the rough shape of a lamb chop. It is, however, inedible. Get me a takeaway menu. I’m not going hungry again.”
Alison had enraged her husband and he hadn’t even seen her new purchases yet. A takeaway menu was found and then, exasperated by Tim, it was thrown at him. The colour of her husband’s face changed. Pink, to red, to puce, and then he was out of his seat, a stream of abuse spitting from his mouth.
The first slap across her face sent Alison staggering back. As she regained her balance, the curl of her husband’s lip and the balling of his fists indicated that worse was to come. He didn’t usually strike her on the face. That taboo had been broken. There would be no stopping him now.