Instead of trying to find your perfect match in a dating app, we bring you the “Author-Reader Match” where we introduce you to authors as a reader you may fall in love with. It’s our great pleasure to present Renee Dahlia! Writes: Renee writes romances featuring women who seek personal success and stumble across love. Some of her books are historical, some are contemporary, and nearly all of them feature LGBTIQ+ characters. In Her Lady’s Honor, WWI veterinarian Nell agrees to deliver her boss’s horse to his home in Wales because she doesn’t know what else to do with her life now the war is over. When her boss’s wife dies in mysterious circumstances, she stays to help her boss’s daughter, Beatrice, figure out what happened. Beatrice has a big heart and reminds Nell about what is important. Love, family, and that money can’t solve all your problems, although it certainly helps. About: Book loving author, who is really just a reader who writes to satisfy her creativity, seeks other readers who want to squeal about their favourite authors, argue over why secret baby is the worst trope (or is it misunderstandings/miscommunication?), and who love a little mystery with their…

All right, let’s talk first loves. No, I don’t mean that sexy bad boy from school. I’m talking about the paper kind. Those first, unforgettable books that were your introduction–your gateway drug, if you will–into the wonderful world of Romance. Was it that illicit stash of Harlequins you discovered at your grandma’s house? The dog-eared bodice-ripper you reluctantly started because it was the only book in the vacation rental that wasn’t by Stephen King? Whatever it was, it changed your life for the better. I was, I admit, a latecomer to romance. I’d studied ‘Serious, Proper Literature’ at University–which generally meant books written by men. I’d read everything from Chaucer to James Joyce, Shakespeare to Kafka. And I’d noticed how few of the women in those ‘classics’ ever achieved success or received any pleasure. If they did, they were usually punished, or ended up dead. I clung, ever hopeful, to the sparsest of romantic threads, but ended up shouting at my paperbacks instead; “Forget the train station, Anna Karenina! Run off with Vronsky and bloody well live happily ever after.” “Step away from the poison, Madame Bovary, he’s not worth it!” Don’t even get me started on Tess of the…