Spotlight: Rebel One by J.S. Christine

(Melkin Series, #1)
Publication date: May 13th 2022
Genres: New Adult, Romance

Synopsis:

Lacey Carson dreams of experiencing the world outside of the mundane town her father limits her to. “Go big or go home”? Lacey is already wrapped up in her comforter before that question can be finished. Her fight or flight instinct falls hard in one direction only.

Insert Travis Miller. He’s a little too loud, a little too violent, a little too focused on Lacey. He only knows how to go big.

When the opportunity presents itself for more adventure, Lacey jumps in head first before Travis can say no. It may be a little more than she bargained for as she learns about the ups and downs of independence, her own strength, and the crime world she quickly becomes immersed into.

Excerpt

I looked behind us. There was a large van with guns poking out of it.

“Oh my God,” I cried, clasping a hand to my mouth. I turned back facing forward and slouched down to keep out of the way if they shot the back window.

“Don’t go that way. Keep away from our new place,” Cameron ordered Travis as he flew past cars. He took a sharp turn, pulling up the emergency brake to make the turn before releasing it and continuing down with no regard towards the speed limit.

“What new place?” Travis shot back.

“Left. Don’t go straight. I said left,” Cameron said, pointing with his hand that had a gun in it. 

I swallowed. I had no idea what they were talking about but I didn’t care. I was not going to live much longer anyway. I held my head in my hands, massaging my temple with my fingertips.

“I don’t know where I’m going,” Travis shouted as we skidded around a sharp turn. 

My body rammed against the side of Finn’s from the force.

“Let me drive,” Ben said from next to me in the backseat at the same time Cameron yelled for them to switch.

I racked my brain for how that was going to happen. We were going more than a safe amount above the speed limit. Stopping to switch would only slow us down and even though I was a firm believer in speed limits, that option wasn’t looking too great right now.

“Take it, Cam,” Travis said as he moved back from the steering wheel.

Cameron scooted over slightly. He put one hand on the wheel and I watched in horror as he moved one leg down to where the gas pedal would be. From the speed, it felt like it was being floored. My eyes bulged.

Ben hopped in front of me at the same time Travis flicked a switch underneath his seat, causing it to move back as far as it would go. The two boys fit in the seat awkwardly as they moved around each other; Ben taking Travis’ seat and Travis crouching to climb back.

“Hey gorgeous,” Travis said as he faced me while in between the drivers and passenger’s seat. He flashed a cheeky smile before climbing to where Ben was previously seated next to me.

The whole exchange happened in the span of maybe seven seconds. I blinked. There was no way I was living to see the age of eighteen at this rate.

Ben made the seat go to the right distance away from the pedals and Cameron moved back over to his seat. The speed, if anything, went faster now that Ben was driving. Cameron started talking to him about something but I couldn’t pick it out.

Travis came into my line of view as he fumbled through the duffel bag at my feet before pulling out a large gun. He pushed himself out of the window so he was leaning out of it with his chest facing the car. Finn was doing the same, only Travis seemed to be sitting on the arm rest on the side of the door, not putting him out of the car as much as Finn, who was literally sitting on the window edge.

“Lacey!” Finn yelled. He slumped quickly back into the car. “Hold my legs for me.”

Without giving me a chance to say yes or no, and without second guessing the trust he put in the girl he kidnapped hours ago, he forced himself back out the window. I crawled over to where he was and held onto the top of his legs. I sat on my knees, putting them directly on his feet to try to put more weight on him to keep him from falling out of the car. 

“Next time, don’t make such a grand entrance,” Cameron yelled in the direction of where Travis’ body was. Cameron’s window was rolled down as well, but I don’t know how much he was actually doing since I felt like Finn was blocking most of his view with his body.

“Excuse me?” Travis shot back. I could barely hear him but he must have moved his head in slightly as he spoke. Otherwise, I think the wind and bullets would have carried his voice away.

“Let’s lay on the horn and tear up the roads as we come home to get everyone’s attention, what an idea!” Cameron scolded.

“Sorry, you’re going to have to yell louder if you want me to hear you over the squealing tires and bullets being shot at me,” Travis demanded.

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About the Author

J.S. Christine has been writing novels since 2011 and graduated with a degree in Creative Writing. She strives to give readers worlds they can relax in with characters they can call their friends. Her novels typically travel down the obstacle-ridden roads of self-discovery with music blasting in the car’s speakers and the occasional explosion off to the side. Her first novel, Sparked, was self-published in 2016. When she isn’t writing, she can be found binge reading books, burning cookies, attempting to run, or teaching her three cats how great popcorn is.

Connect:

https://www.jschristine.com/

https://www.instagram.com/jscbooks/

https://twitter.com/JSCbooks

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15254232.J_S_Christine

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Spotlight: The Empress and the English Doctor: How Catherine the Great Defied a Deadly Virus by Lucy Ward

Within living memory, smallpox was a dreaded disease. Over human history it has killed untold millions. In the eighteenth century, as epidemics swept Europe, the first rumors emerged of an effective treatment: a mysterious method called inoculation.

But a key problem remained: convincing people to accept the preventative remedy, the forerunner of vaccination. Arguments raged over risks and benefits, and public resistance ran high. As smallpox ravaged her empire and threatened her court, Catherine the Great took the momentous decision to summon the Quaker physician Thomas Dimsdale from Hertford to St Petersburg to carry out a secret mission that would transform both their lives. 

Excerpt

At nine o’clock on a chill evening in October 1768, a carriage arrived at the gates of Wolff House, on the outskirts of St Petersburg, with an urgent summons. Aft er weeks of secret preparations, the call had come at last from the Winter Palace, where the Empress Catherine II waited impatiently for her English doctor, Thomas Dimsdale. 

Prepared but uneasy at the task ahead, Thomas climbed quickly into the coach with his son Nathaniel, a medical student. Nathaniel carried a sleeping child, a six-year-old boy named Alexander, small for his age and swaddled in a fur against the autumn cold and the beginnings of a fever.

Leaving the guarded gates of Wolff House, a merchant’s summer residence requisitioned as an isolation hospital, the trio sped through lanes lit by an almost full moon towards the river a short distance to the south. The wide, grey waters of the Neva were not yet frozen, and the coach crossed over a pontoon bridge, then made its way to the rear of the Winter Palace, away from the bustle of the embankment. Drawing up as agreed at a gate close to the grand facades of Millionnaya Street, the two doctors and the boy were ushered quickly up a back staircase. At the top waited Baron Alexander Cherkasov, the Cambridge-educated President of the St Petersburg Medical College, who would act as interpreter.

As they hurried through richly decorated passages to the appointed room, Thomas had reason for trepidation. Over decades of experience, the 56-year-old physician had refined the practice of smallpox inoculation: deliberately infecting patients with a small, controlled dose of the deadly virus itself to give them future immunity against the brutal disease. His landmark treatise explaining his methods, published just a year previously in 1767, was already in its fourth edition, its influence stretching across Europe and confirming England’s place as the global centre of expertise for the preventative treatment. 

Yet, despite his flawless record of thousands of successful inoculations, from wealthy aristocrats paying handsome sums to the poorest foundlings he immunised for free, Thomas knew the stakes were now at their highest. Not only did his own reputation hang in the balance, so too did that of the medical procedure he firmly believed could counter one of the greatest threats to human health ever known. If disaster struck – and his Russian test cases at Wolff House had produced disturbingly erratic results – the name of science itself would be tainted, to the benefit of prejudice and superstition. 

And if the fear for his profession was not enough, there was his safety and the impact on his country to consider. Back in Britain, King George III himself was following his progress, while diplomats in London and St Petersburg exchanged anxious updates and wished the whole politically hazardous affair swiftly over. In the English market town of Hertford, the family he had reluctantly left almost three months before prayed for his safe return. For Thomas, the danger was only underlined by the Empress’s promise – should things go wrong – of a carriage waiting to spirit him to the safety of a yacht anchored in the Gulf of Finland ready to sail for England. Her death at the hands of a foreigner would spark immediate vengeance: he had witnessed the sparkle of the Russian Court but also the dark brutality of life outside it. If he failed to escape immediately, he expected to pay with his life. 

All this preoccupied the mind of the Quaker doctor as he entered the small chamber where Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress Catherine II, waited alone, her mind settled and her countenance perfectly composed. Marvelling at her resolution, Thomas took out a mother-of-pearl and silver case no bigger than his palm and opened the hinged lid to reveal three pearl-handled blades slotted inside. Extracting one, he knelt beside the half-awake Alexander, exposing the boy’s arm to find the place he had inoculated him a few days previously. With the lancet, he pierced the blister, transferring a drop of the infected matter within on to the blade. The Empress pushed back her brocaded sleeves, and the Doctor made the smallest of punctures in her pale skin, one in each upper arm, guiding a drop of the fluid into each incision. 

In barely the time needed to throw a set of dice, the procedure was over. The Empress of Russia had been deliberately, and willingly, inoculated with smallpox: the ancient and terrible disease that had killed an estimated sixty million over centuries and disfigured and blinded countless more. Thomas’s record was impeccable, but every jab of the blade carried risk. Now, as Catherine retired to bed and the doctors and the boy stepped back into the cold St Petersburg night, there was nothing to do but wait.

Early in the morning aft er the secret appointment at the Winter Palace, Catherine travelled by carriage to Tsarskoe Selo, an elegant royal estate some twenty miles south of St Petersburg. There, wrapped up against the cold, she walked in landscaped parkland that stands barely changed today, pacing the tree-lined paths as late leaves scattered and were swept away. She dined simply that day on weak soup, boiled chicken and vegetables, sleeping for almost an hour afterwards and waking refreshed. 

The Empress’s mood, her doctor noted, was ‘easy and cheerful’, but during the night pain would build around the two incisions on her arms, her joints would begin to ache, and giddiness and fever would strike the following evening. The smallpox virus, one of the most virulent ever known, had entered her bloodstream and, as her body prepared to resist, there was no turning back.

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About the Author

Lucy Ward is a writer and former journalist for the Guardian and Independent. As a Westminster Lobby correspondent, she campaigned for greater women’s representation. From 2010–12, she lived with her family in Moscow, renewing her interest in Russian history. After growing up in Manchester, she studied Early and Middle English at Balliol College, Oxford. She now lives in Essex

Spotlight: Only In Darkness by Brenda Stanley

Publication date: March 5th 2022
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Thriller

Synopsis:

Based on ancient Mayan mythology comes a story of bloodlust, love and the horrors of coming of age.

In ancient Central America, the legend of the Camazotz: large, bat-like creatures that desire blood and terrorize the villages in search of prey. When the volcano, Masaya, erupts and kills the tribe from which the Camazotz are from, they discover a miracle ash in the ruins.

Years later in present-day eastern Idaho, 17-year-old Emilio Chavez lives in an isolated area near the lava rock cliffs of the American Falls reservoir. From birth, he has been different. After Emilio’s friend Clara falls victim to a terrible accident, suspicions about Emilio arise, and he discovers an astonishing secret about his past.

As a sinister force tightens its grip on Clara, can Milo save her from those searching for blood while keeping his own internal demons at bay?

Excerpt

Jennifer Berchtold was a runner and her favorite place to stretch out and go each morning was the quiet and empty paths of the Mountain View Cemetery and the trails of the hills that snaked through and connected to it. The large craggy cottonwood trees were probably as old as the first graves dug in the late 1800s. They gave shade and framed small dirt pathways throughout the acres of grass and tombstones.

Her friends often chided her about her creepy choice of jogging route, but for her, the silence, lack of cars, dogs, and people made it the perfect place to renew her body and soul. With earphones playing her favorite playlist on Pandora, she escaped for that hour in the morning before her day as the BannockCounty Assessor began. She could forget the stream of complaints about tax payments and increased valuations as she kept a steady pace for those three miles. On that morning, her breath was visible, and as she pulled her sunglasses down from the top of her head, the sky was just starting to brighten. She took the hidden path that led from the oldest part of the cemetery to where the new grave sites began and up a small crest that was shaded and secluded. She rounded a clump of dogwood brush and came upon a smoky haze. As she ran through it, it started to clear just enough for her to see a large, dark figure in the distance. It was hunched on the ground, hovering over what was burning. She slowed and came to a cautious stop. Whatever it was, it hadn't noticed her. It was moving, up and down, heaving in the early morning dimness amidst the haze. A black vinyl-like covering rose and fell, almost billowing. Then she saw feet protruding from under it. They were pale and upside down in the dirt and grass. 

The sight alarmed her. She tried to get a better look in the low light and removed her sunglasses. As she pushed them up on her forehead, they toppled and fell to the ground. The noise was enough to alert the creature, and the figure rose and turned. The large black covering lowered at its sides and revealed a monstrous face. Jennifer's body went cold and her chest heaved. It was a man, but he looked inhuman. His skin was discolored and taut, and his upper body oddly large, the dark covering folded back into wings that protruded from his back. He glared at her and then stepped away. She looked down and saw a body lying face down on the grass, its back torn open. Jennifer put her hand to her mouth in horror.

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About the Author

Brenda Stanley is a former television news anchor and investigative reporter for the NBC affiliate in Eastern Idaho. She has been recognized for her writing by the Scripps Howard Foundation, the Hearst Journalism Awards, The Idaho Press Club and the Society for Professional Journalists. She is a graduate of Dixie College in St. George, Utah and the University of Utah in Salt Lake City. She is the mother of 5 children, including two sets of twins. Brenda and her husband Dave, a veterinarian, live on a small ranch near the Snake River with their horses and dogs.

Author links:

https://brendastanleybooks.net/

https://www.facebook.com/BrendaStanleyBooks/

https://www.instagram.com/bstanleybooks/

https://twitter.com/myauthorlife

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4086376.Brenda_Stanley

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Spotlight: One for the Money by Skye Warren

Published by: Dangerous Press
Publication date: May 24th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

Finn Hughes knows about secrets. His family is as wealthy as the Rockefellers. And as powerful as the Kennedys. No one knows that the men in his line have a debilitating, early-onset illness. He’s managed the business from a young age while his father served as the figurehead. All the while knowing there’s a ticking clock on his ability to lead.

Eva Morelli is the oldest daughter. The responsible one. The caring one. The one who doesn’t have time for her own interests.

Especially not her interest in the charismatic, mysterious Finn Hughes.

A fake relationship is the answer to both their problems.It will keep the swarming society mothers from throwing their daughters at him.And it will keep Eva’s mother from bothering her about marriage.

Then the fake relationship starts to feel real.

But there’s no chance for them. No hope for a woman who’s had her heart broken. And no future for a man whose fate was decided long ago.

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About the Author

Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dangerous romance. Her books have sold over one million copies. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, sweet dogs, and evil cat.

Connect:
http://www.skyewarren.com/
https://www.facebook.com/skyewarren
https://www.instagram.com/skyewarrenbooks/
https://twitter.com/skye_warren
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5339130.Skye_Warren
http://www.skyewarren.com/newsletter/

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Spotlight: The Candid Life of Meena Dave by Namrata Patel

The Candid Life of Meena Dave is a Desi coming of age novel that tells the story of photojournalist and nomad Meena Dave. She has no family, no permanent address, and no long-term attachments, preferring to observe the world at a distance through the lens of her camera. But Meena’s solitary life is turned upside down when she unexpectedly inherits an apartment in a Victorian brownstone in historic Back Bay, Boston.

Though Meena’s impulse is to sell it and keep moving, she decides to use her journalistic instinct to follow the story that landed her in the home of a stranger. It’s a mystery that comes with a series of hidden clues, a trio of meddling Indian aunties, and a handsome next-door neighbor. For Meena it’s a chance for newfound friendships, community, and culture she never thought possible. And a window into her past she never expected.

Excerpt

Chapter One 

Meena Dave was tired, and not just from thirty-six hours of travel. She’d expected a trinket, a ring of some sort, when she’d learned about an inheritance. It should have been easy, a quick stop in Boston on her way to New York from Auckland. 

“If you had responded to our initial inquiries.” 

Meena heard judgement in the husky voice of the woman who sat on the other side of the large mahogany desk. The tall woman in the black, fitted pantsuit belonged in this corner office with oversize windows. 

“I was in New Zealand,” Meena said. And Tasmania, Tokyo, and Nova Scotia before that. She sat taller to fight the weight of fatigue in her body. Besides most of her communication happened via email or text. She didn’t check her actual mail for months at a time. 

“As I said,” Sandhya Shah continued, “you’ve wasted half of the allotted one year, but at least you’ve managed to make it within the window.” 

Meena reread the paperwork. “Are you sure you have the right person? I didn’t’ know Neha Patel.” Another reason she hadn’t prioritized this when she’d picked up her mail from her Manhattan PO box three months earlier on her way from Portugal to the Pacific. 

“We’ve verified your identity, and we do not make careless mistakes at Menon and Shah.” 

Meena glanced at the index card in her hand. It was like the ones she’d made herself in high school when studying for the SATs. This had a single world and its definition. 

engineer (noun) 

3 a.: a designer or builder of engines 

b.: a person who is trained in or follows as a profession a branch of engineering 

c.: a person who carries through an enterprise by skillful or artful contrivance 

engineer verb 

2a.: a designer or builder of engines 

b.: to guide the course of 

“And what is this?” Meena held it up to the lawyer. 

“It was part of the packet to be turned over to you along with the keys.” Sandhya tapped a manicured nail on the stack in from of Meena. “As soon as you sign the paperwork you can take possession.” 

Meena skimmed the few paragraphs she could understand and glossed over the legalese. 

“To review the terms . . . “ 

“I have to wait out the full year- well, six months now- before I can sell it,” Meena cut off the lawyer. 

“And it can only be sold to one of the other four owners of the building,” Sandhya said. “No outside buyers.” 

Meena resisted the urge to take her long hair out of its messy bun and brain the edges. A habit her mom had never approved of. Hannah Dave, the only mother who counted. She stared out the large windows. The sky was thick with clouds. Leaf-diving sky, her dad had called it. They’d go out in the backyard and rake the fallen leaves into heaping piles. Then Meena would take a running start and jump in, belly-first. This was why she’d avoided the state of Massachusetts since she’d left it right after high school. Too many memories. 

“What if I don’t want it?” Not that Meena was reckless. An apartment in the historic area of Back Bay was not something she could turn down when she supported herself as a freelance photojournalist. 

“Do you not?” The lawyer knew Meena’s hesitation was a bluff. 

Meena resisted the urge to sigh. “I don’t actually have to live there.” Her life wasn’t suited to permanence. “I have a flight out in a few hours.” 

Sandhya looked at Meena as in none of this was her problem. “The keys are in this envelope along with the building passcode. The utilities, including Wi-Fi, have been paid for until April, after which you can decide what you want to do next.” 

Meena picked up the pen. “Needs must.” She murmured her mother’s favorite phrase and signed where the plastic tabs indicated. 

Sandhya gathered the papers, gave Meena the duplicates, and stood to signal the end of the meeting. 

“What if no one in the building offers to buy?” 

“The you keep it until they do,” Sandhya said. “The apartment is a condominium, so you will be responsible for maintenance, utilities, and expenses even if you don’t live there.” 

Meena shoved her copies of the paperwork into a large yellow envelope along with the keys and the index card. She nodded to the lawyer before lifting her heavy backpack onto one shoulder. She walked out of the building into the bustling area of Downtown crossing and headed toward Boston Common. While the city was familiar from childhood school trips, she still needed the map on her phone to guide her to the address. 

It was barely ten in the morning, and Back Bay was about a twenty-minute walk. She would check it out, assess the condition of the place, and figure out her next steps. If she couldn’t do anything with it for six months, she’d let it sit. Staying her wasn’t an option. She was in between assignments, which meant scheduling editor meetings in New York to line up more gigs. More importantly, this stat was her past, and Meena didn’t look back. Ever.

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About the Author

Namrata Patel is an Indian American writer who resides in Boston. Her writing examines diaspora and dual-cultural identity among Indian Americans and explores this dynamic while also touching on the families we’re born with and those we choose. Namrata has lived in India, New Jersey, Spokane, London, and New York City and has been writing most of her adult life

Connect: http://nampatel.com/

Spotlight: The Bequest by B.E. Baker

(The Birch Creek Ranch, #1)
Publication date: November 30th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Women’s Fiction

Synopsis:

Two widows, six kiddos, and a will that leaves them a massive cattle ranch, but only if they work it for a year.

Abigail and Amanda may have married brothers, but they have almost nothing else in common (and really, they never did get along very well). After their husbands both pass away, they have no reason to interact. Their connection drops to an awkward phone call on birthdays and an exchange of holiday cards.

Until an eccentric uncle of their husbands’ leaves a massive cattle ranch to the women’s minor children. . . if they work the ranch themselves. A ranch that’s located near a small town on the border of Wyoming that isn’t too keen on outsiders.

They’re both going to turn the bequest down, clearly. It’s not like either of them could properly raise their kids or find love again in a backwater province like Birch Creek. But when things at home change dramatically—for both moms—they decide to give it a try. . . just for the summer.

What could possibly go wrong in a mere three months? (Or more importantly… what might go right?)

Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author Pamela Kelley said, “B. E. Baker takes you right to the heart of the small town that two widowed sisters-in-law land in very unexpectedly. Can they survive the year they need to spend there to keep it? I really enjoyed reading Bridget’s romantic women’s fiction debut.”

Excerpt

Introductory

“Mrs. Brooks? Mrs. Nathaniel Brooks?” 

I haven’t been called Mrs. Nathaniel Brooks in more than a year, not since before Nate died. It catches me by surprise and leaves me almost unable to speak.

“Hello?”

“Yes,” I manage to say. “That’s me.” I clear my throat. 

“Good.” The man shuffles some papers. “My name is Karl Swift." Something about his voice, perhaps the wobbly timbre, makes me think that Karl is quite old.

“What can I help you with, Mr. Swift?”

“Er, well, it might be more correct for me to tell you what I think I can help you with.” 

He sounds like Bilbo Baggins at his birthday party.

“Okay.” 

“I’m actually a lawyer as well—I found your name on your law firm website from a simple search. I’m calling to notify you that last night, I formally read a will that had been posted in all the local papers and online.”

“A will for whom?” I still have no idea why he called, and I’m beginning to think he was improperly named--he's definitely not 'swift.' Spit it out, Ol’ Man River!

“Jedediah Brooks passed away almost two weeks ago.”

Brooks. He’s related to Nate, then. The name finally registers. “Nate’s uncle?” 

“Even so,” Mr. Swift says. 

“I’m very sorry to hear that Uncle Jed passed,” I say, rotely. I didn’t meet Nate’s uncle more than a handful of times, and even then we barely exchanged a handful of words. He had a full head of white hair the first time we met, nearly twenty years ago at my wedding to Nate. He must have lived quite a long life.

“Thank you. His death was quite a shock, but at least it was quick. Jed always said he wanted it to be fast, not drawn out.” 

My hand trembles where it’s holding the phone. Nate’s death wasn’t quick at all—and it was so fast I could barely think straight. “Is that why you called? To let me know that he’d passed?” 

“Not precisely,” Mr. Swift says. “You see, as I understand it, both of Mr. Brooks’ nephews, Nathaniel and Paul, predeceased him.” 

I murmur my assent. They were both so young. It still sounds so wrong to agree that they’re both dead, even now. 

“In that case, there is quite a substantial bequest made to your children, Mrs. Brooks.”

“Excuse me?”

“Jed owned a three thousand, two hundred and eleven acre cattle ranch out here, on the northern side of Utah. It’s one of only six properties in the state that have stayed with the same family continuously, all the way back to the original land grant. In fact, portions of the property are actually in Wyoming, but it’s mostly in a place called Daggett County.”

“Are you saying that my children’s great-uncle left them a three-thousand acre ranch?”

“Yes, but it's not quite that simple.” 

I wish Mr. Swift would cut to the chase. For a lawyer, he certainly lacks in clarity. “What does the will say, then?”

“Specifically, it provides that the ranch and all its appurtenances, including the home, a guest house, two large barns, an outbuilding for storage, and some three hundred and fifty head of cattle should be left to your children and the children of Nathaniel’s brother, Paul, per stirpes.” 

I wonder what something like that is worth. Maybe Ethan could get his Razr after all. “Well, that’s unexpected.”

“However.” Mr. Swift rustles more papers. “In order for the bequest to vest, the heirs or, in the case that they’re minors, their appointed guardians, must adequately and actively operate the Birch Creek Ranch for a period of one full year.”

"Operate it?" I ask. "Meaning, we can't just sell it?"

"That's correct. In order for your children to inherit under the terms of the will, you would need to move here and run the ranch for a year." 

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About the Author

Bridget loves her husband (every day) and all five of her kids (most days).

She’s a lawyer, but does as little legal work as possible. She has three quarter horse geldings, a Holsteiner (jumping) horse, and she spends too much time riding and not enough time writing. (Or too much time writing and not enough time riding, depending on your perspective!)

She has more chickens than she’ll admit to having, two lions head rabbits, a cat, two dogs (one bouncy and one yappy). She makes cookies waaaaay too often and believes they should be their own food group. In a (possibly misguided) attempt at balancing the scales, she kickboxes daily.

So if you don’t like her books, her kids, her horses, her chickens, or her cookies, maybe don’t tell her in person.

B.E. Baker is the romance/women's fiction penname for Bridget E. Baker, who also writes fantasy, end of the world, and dystopian books that add a little magic to the world.

Please sign up for Bridget's fantasy or romance newsletters on her website at www.BridgetEBakerWrites.com or click Follow on her bio above to get notices and updates when she releases new books!

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