Ariella Moon's Blog, page 30

August Full Moon Magic

August Full MoonFull Moon 2:09 pm Eastern Daylight Time, August10, 2014Moon Void of course 6:12 pm (EDT) August 10, 2014Moon enters Pisces 8:55 am (EDT), August 11, 2014
Corn Moon, Grain Moon, Sturgeon Moon, Red Moon
The August Aquarius Full Moon occurs in the northern hemisphere at a time of abundant corn and grain, and plentiful fish. It symbolizes the first harvest, a community effort.This will be the closest and largest full moon of 2014. The moon will not be this close to Earth again until September 28, 2015. This most super of Super Moons will result in higher than normal tides along the coast. Expect emotional high tides as well.
"Campo de maize del sur de Ohio."
by Graylight. Originally posted to Flickr.
Used under Creative Commons


The keywords for Aquarius, an air sign, are: I KNOW. Usually, an Aquarius moon is a good time for team building, networking, and collaboration. But according to Llewellyn’s 2014 Daily Planetary Guide, “this month’s Full Moon is involved in a difficult T-square pattern with Saturn.” Saturn’s energy is akin to pulling on the reins while ride a galloping horse. Resistance, boundaries, and conservative thoughts and actions characterize Saturn energy. It may be difficult to build community when the tumultuous, masculine, I KNOW force of the Aquarius Super Moon slams against the “No way” energy of Saturn.
Full Moon Web Magic 
"A Gift From the Universe"
By William Waterway
Used under Creative CommonsYou will need paper and colored markers or colored pencils.How do we regain the harvest-time teamwork of our ancestors under the opposing forces present this full moon? Begin by identifying the communities you belong to: professional, personal, local, and global. Using a pencil, draw a symbol to represent you. Then map out your groups around you, using circles for each group. Add lines linking each group since they all connect through you. What emerges is a web.
You Are the WeaverWhat does your web reveal about you? Is it well balanced between work, family, friends and community? Or is there an imbalance? Have you been neglecting a group within your web? Are you all work and no play, or vice versa? Does your web indicate too much volunteer work, or not enough? Do you need to change your role within one of your groups — step up or step down? Does your web show a lack of community?
Full Moon Ritual1.     Create a (regular) pencil diagram of your communities.2.     Place your diagram in the moonlight or where you can see the moon.3.     Identify imbalances. ·      If desired, add a group you’d like to belong to and draw it in green. Imagine yourself welcomed into that community or one even better .     With moonlight and nurturing light           I grow a place for me                      In a new community.
·      Any group containing a relationship or situation that needs healing, circle in blue. Meditate on what you can do to heal the relationship or situation. Picture it done.     With moonlight and healing light     I send soothing energy    Into this fractured community.
·      Any group you want to devote more energy to, circle in green.With moonlight and nurturing lightI create a new opportunityTo be active in this community.
·      Any group you need to release, trace over in gold or silver, the colors of the god and goddess.With Moonlight and farewell lightI release meFrom this community. 
"Spider Web in the Fall."
By Carriec. Used under Creative Commons.
4.     Place your hands a few inches above the paper, palms facing down. Close your eyes and picture a shaft of moonlight entering your third eye and illuminating a replica of the diagram in your mind. Once the drawing has revealed itself, imagine the moonlight running down your arms and exiting through your palms onto the diagram. 5.     In your mind’s eye, light up the green circles with an apple green light. The light sparkles, nurturing these groups and your involvement within them.6.     Mentally bring forth any group circled in blue. Illuminate them in a pale blue light. Envision the healing light suffusing the members of the group and bringing its members into harmony.7.     Suffuse group(s) to release in either gold or silver light. Picture the group(s) detaching from your web, yielded up to the god or goddess for your highest good, and for the highest good of the group.
Sit with your drawing until you feel you’ve received all messages and insights concerning your place within your communities. Thank the moon for lending its energy and illumination.
Blessed BeAriella Moon©2014 by Ariella Moon http://www.AriellaMoon.com

E.A. West and 7 Myths about Autism

Yesterday's blog featured E.A. West's new Young Adult novel, DIFFERENTToday, West returns to discuss7 Myths about Autism
A person with autism can never improve.
Therapies exist to assist autistic with daily life skills, social skills, job skills, and many other areas of life that may be impaired by autism. Age can also bring improvement, as well as learning from peers, studying human behavior, and developing the coping mechanisms necessary to participate in normal daily life.
A person with autism can be cured with the right therapies.
While the right therapies can help an individual live a more normal life, cure isn’t possible. Autism is a neurological difference, which means the autistic brain is wired differently than the normal brain. The right therapies can help rewire the brain to a certain extent, but differences will always exist.
Early intervention is the only hope a child with autism has.
Early intervention does help a tremendous amount, but even if you miss that window of time, your child can still make improvements with the right assistance.
Autism is caused by vaccines.
This myth has been disproved by more than one study with strong evidence. The man who started the theory by manipulating the results of a study he conducted has admitted that his conclusions weren’t accurate and had no evidence to back them up, yet the myth of autism being caused by vaccines continues to persist.
Only children are autistic.
People seem to forget that autistic children grow up. Autism is a lifelong disorder, meaning a person can’t grow out of it. It doesn’t magically disappear when the child becomes an adult.
All autistics are great at math and science.
While many autistics do seem to do well in math and science, many more are drawn to the arts. Just like with any group of people, a wide range of abilities and interests exist among people on the autism spectrum.
Autistics aren’t creative or good at playing make believe.

Autistics are just as creative as anyone else, but they may have trouble expressing their creativity in a normal manner. From an observer’s perspective, it may appear that the autistic child is just sitting and staring blankly at a wall, but inside the mind of the autistic there may be a grand adventure playing out that they are fully participating in. Since it’s all internal, however, many people wrongly assume that children on the autism spectrum are incapable of playing make believe.
                                             About E.A. West: 
E.A. West, award-winning author of sweet and inspirational romance, is a lifelong lover of books and storytelling. In high school, she picked up her pen in a creative writing class and hasn’t laid it down yet. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys reading, knitting, and crocheting. She lives in Indiana with her family and a small zoo of pets.
Where to Find E.A. West:
Website: http://eawest.mcphitty.comBlog: http://thewestcorner.wordpress.comFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/EA-West/34280264617Twitter: http://twitter.com/eawestGoogle+: http://plus.google.com/107709864908331978411/postsPinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/authoreawest Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/eawest

Buy Links for Different

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Different-E-West-ebook/dp/B00M0E4ZU0

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1119984134?ean=2940149685615

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/460703

DIFFERENT an Intriguing Young Adult Novel about Autism

The Spotlight on Summer Reading continues with:

DIFFERENT Anything can happen when the rules change.
Jezebel Smith is different. She can’t talk, she doesn’t look like anyone in her family, and no matter what she does it’s always the wrong thing. God accepts her for who she is, but He’s the only one who does. Then she finds an unconscious man in her favorite cave, and her life is turned upside down. New people and new rules collide with the old, leaving Jezebel unsure of which set of rules apply to her life. When the strangers in town attempt to help her out of the nightmare she’s grown up in, it promises to change her life forever.
Excerpt #1 :
The distant drip of water echoed off the rocky walls as Jezebel Smith wandered through her cave. Pungent fumes from her kerosene lantern stung her nose, and she wished for a flashlight. But her family would miss a flashlight. They never noticed when she took the old lantern from the barn.
Turning her face away from the lantern, she caught a whiff of the familiar scent of the rocks around her. She loved the fresh, earthy smell of her cave. Through countless hours of careful practice, her hiking boots barely produced a whisper on the bumpy path leading to her special cavern. If she swung the lantern on its creaky handle, however, she could fill the cave with a creepy echo that reminded her of Halloween.
She passed through an opening in the wall and entered a large cavern with several ledges in one end. As she approached the lowest ledge, the glow from her lantern touched an unfamiliar lump on the floor below the rocky shelf and she froze. She knew every inch of this cavern — every rock, ledge, and bump in the floor. No one ever came here. Nothing ever changed unless she changed it. The cave was the only thing she could count on to always stay the same.
This time, however, there was something new. The cave had broken its own rules, adding a boulder where one didn’t belong. She crept toward it, fighting tears of hurt that the cave would trick her like everyone else, and the golden light of her lantern revealed it wasn’t a boulder after all — it was the still form of a man. Her pulse pounded in her ears, so loud it threatened to drown out her own thoughts. Where had he come from? Why wasn’t he moving? Her heart skipped a beat. Was he dead?
Excerpt #2:
Fear shivered through her that he was sleeping so much. One of her brothers had fallen out of a tree once and hit his head, and the doctor said they had to keep him from falling asleep for a while. Jezebel didn’t know if falling off a ledge and hitting his head made the man have to stay awake or not.
After worrying for a while longer, she finally decided she’d have to risk a beating from her parents and go get the doctor. She didn’t know if he’d come, but she had to try. Daniel was the only person to ever treat her kindly, and he needed help.
She put a couple more sticks on the fire so it would keep burning while she was gone, and then she lit the lantern and headed out of the cavern. As she neared the cave entrance, the flame went out. She slowed her steps and followed the faint glow of daylight. Hopefully the doctor had a flashlight. When she stepped into the woods, she set the lantern by the cave entrance and ran toward town. She practiced saying Daniel’s name while she ran, praying the doctor would come if she told him the injured man’s name.
As she neared the edge of town, she slowed down to catch her breath. She hesitantly stepped onto the main road, terrified at the thought of trying to convince the doctor to go with her. She’d learned a long time ago that no one believed her about anything, and since she couldn’t talk, people didn’t understand what she tried to tell them anyway.
A lot of strange cars and people clogged the main street through town, and Jezebel wondered who they were. Unless Reverend Brown was holding one of his many revivals,  the town rarely had many visitors. As she continued toward the doctor’s office, a woman carrying a stack of papers walked toward her with a smile. Jezebel stopped, her mind whirling with uncertainty, and the woman handed her a paper.
“We’re looking for this man. He went hiking in this area a couple of days ago and didn’t come back.”
Jezebel studied the sheet in her hands, and her heart skipped a beat. A picture of Daniel stared back, and some words had been printed across the bottom in black ink. She pointed to the photo. “D-Dan... Daniel.”
“That’s right, his name is Daniel,” the woman said, her tone changing a little. “Have you seen him?”
Jezebel nodded and looked back the way she’d come. “C-c-cave.”
“You saw him in a cave?”
She nodded again, excitement rushing through her. For the first time in her life, someone understood what she tried to say. She touched the photograph on the paper, indicating where the cut on Daniel’s head was. Before she could see if the woman understood, she heard her older brother spit out her name. She cringed and felt herself shriveling inside.

Buy Links :
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Different-E-West-ebook/dp/B00M0E4ZU0

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1119984134?ean=2940149685615

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/460703
Author Bio :
E.A. West, award-winning author of sweet and inspirational romance, is a lifelong lover of books and storytelling. In high school, she picked up her pen in a creative writing class and hasn’t laid it down yet. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys reading, knitting, and crocheting. She lives in Indiana with her family and a small zoo of pets.
Where to Find E.A.West:
Website: http://eawest.mcphitty.comBlog: http://thewestcorner.wordpress.comFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/EA-West/34280264617Twitter: http://twitter.com/eawestGoogle+: http://plus.google.com/107709864908331978411/postsPinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/authoreawestGoodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/eawest
Next: Tomorrow E.A. West will offer a guest blog debunking myths about autism.

Summer Reading: Heart on a String by Susan Soares

Today's Summer Reading Spotlight is on Susan Soares! The only thing harder than lying about your life? Facing it.
Marissa tells lies.
To herself, about the fact that her brother abandoned her.
To her grandmother, when she says “everything’s fine.”
To the world when she pretends her mother is at home or working late. When she doesn’t tell them her mother is dead.

She doesn’t even question the wisdom of living in a world built on lies anymore—until she meets Brandon. Unlike Marissa, Brandon faces his grief head-on. As their relationship sweetens, Marissa realizes the value of letting someone in and not letting her grief destroy her. But when her past filled with denial catches up with her, Marissa is forced to tell Brandon her darkest secrets, or risk losing him.

The only thing harder than lying about her life? Facing it.
Heart on a String by Susan SoaresExcerpt- I held my breath as I ran past the cemetery. Stupid, I know. Regardless, it’s one of those idiotic things that stick with you from your childhood. Like fragments of your being that imprint themselves on your chemical makeup. It was my older brother, Marc, who had told me that once when we were in the backseat of Mom’s old hatchback and were driving past the Sacred Path Cemetery.Marc poked me in my side. “Quick, hold your breath,” he said before taking in a puff of air and holding it in.“What? Why?” I looked around from side to side.He didn’t answer me. Instead he just kept motioning with his hands, pointing out the window, putting his hands around his neck like he was choking or something. Finally, when we turned left onto Harper Street he let out a big exhale.“Oh man, now you’re toast.” He pointed at me and laughed. That maniacal laugh only older brothers know how to do. I was seven at the time, and Marc was ten. “You probably have a ghost inside you now.” He grinned like a devious villain.“A ghost?” I said.“You didn’t hold your breath while we drove past the cemetery. Again I state — you’re toast.” He began drumming on his lap with his hands.I didn’t comprehend what he was telling me, but I knew I didn’t like it. Tears started forming in my eyes, and I knew I had to rely on my failsafe. “Mooommm,” I cried out, and immediately I felt Marc’s sweaty hand over my mouth.“Yes, Marissa?” Mom’s sweet voice carried from the front of the car to the backseat.“She’s fine, Mom. I got it.” Marc’s tone was of the dutiful son. He unclamped his hand from my face. “Listen,” he began, talking kind of slow. “You’ve got to remember this. I’m going to give you a life lesson here. Are you ready?”His green eyes were sparkling, and I nodded my head in agreement.“Okay.” He crouched down a bit so he was eye-level with me. “You must always, and I mean always, hold your breath when you drive past a cemetery. And if you’re walking past one, you must run — run and hold your breath until you’re clear. Otherwise, the spirits of the undead could invade your body. And you don’t want that to happen. Do you?” I almost couldn’t tell if the last part was a question or a statement.“But I didn’t hold my breath back there, and all the times before. What if one’s in me right now?” I began pawing at my body.Marc threw his head back and laughed. “Nah, you’re fine. Just be careful. Now that you know you have to do it, always do it. Understand?”Again I shook my head. Marc gave me a thumbs-up, and I begged Mom to take Chester Street instead of Maple because I knew there was a big cemetery on Maple. Luckily she agreed. So now, here I was ten years later, holding my breath as I ran past Sacred Path Cemetery. While I ran, my new sneakers — the ones I had to work double shifts on Saturdays for three weeks to get — started rubbing the back of my left heel, and I knew I’d have a blister the size of a quarter later on. It’s hard to keep your pace when you’re holding your breath. Luckily Sacred Path Cemetery isn’t that big. Just big enough. It’s just big enough. That’s what my grandmother said anyway. I was almost halfway through when I heard the clicking of the tips of my shoelace on the ground. My thoughts concentrated on what those tip things were called, anything to get my mind off the cemetery. Aglets, I remembered! My aglets were hitting the pavement, and I knew if I didn’t stop and retie that lace, then I would land flat on my face. Grace has never been a character trait of mine. My mother, yes, but not me. Marissa No-Grace McDonald should have been my legal name. How my mother came up with Scranton for my middle name I’ll never know.The last thing I wanted to happen was to fall face first in front of the cemetery. Complete body invasion for sure then. I couldn’t hold my breath that long. So I did what I had to do. I stopped, turned my face the opposite direction of the cemetery, and took one big breath in and held it. Next, I bent down and furiously retied that lace. Why is it that whenever you try doing something in a rush it never comes out right? Somehow I tied my finger into the knot. Then, I couldn’t get the loops to line up right. Just as I was finally conquering the over-under shoelace tying technique that Marc had taught me when I was five, I heard muffled sounds coming from inside the cemetery. I searched for the source of the sounds. As I looked near the line of big oak trees that lined the right-hand side of the cemetery, I saw the profiles of a family. What I assumed was a family, anyway. There was a woman, about my mom’s age, a guy about my age, and a younger boy, maybe six or seven. The little boy was holding a metallic balloon, which was red and in the shape of a heart. Bright sun caught the corner of it, creating a glare that momentarily impaired my vision. When my eyes refocused, I was suddenly aware of my body and extremely aware of the fact that I was watching this family’s private moment, in the cemetery, in this cemetery. My heart beat frantically, and I became aware that my forehead was covered in perspiration. I stood up, held my breath again, and ran the next half a block without stopping, my aglets clicking against the pavement all the way.When I crossed over onto Brenton Street, I finally slowed down. I felt like I could breathe again. My pace was back to a more conservative speed, and after one more break to retie that shoelace-triple-knot, I was able to refocus. The spring air felt good on my skin. As the sun poured down on me, my face embraced its warmth. Lilacs were in full bloom everywhere, and I made a special detour down Hazel Street to run past the six lilac bushes Mr. Brockwell planted a few years ago. He said it was just because he wanted to add some color to his front yard, but I knew better. I knew they were for my mom.Turning down Hazel Street, I inhaled the heavy floral scent of the freshly-bloomed lilac bushes, and I could picture my mom smiling. As I ran past the last bush, the little blue house finally came into view. I saw Mr. Brockwell picking up his newspaper from his front step. In that moment I wished I had magical powers to turn myself invisible.“Marissa? Hey Marissa!” he shouted while making his way over to the fence.Oh great. “Oh, hey, Mr. Brockwell.” I slowed down and began jogging in place, hoping the gesture would let him know I couldn’t stay to chat.“It’s been a long time since you’ve run this route, hasn’t it?” He cinched his blue terrycloth robe a little tighter.Trying to remain active, I kept jogging in place. “Yeah, I guess. I wanted to run past the lilacs.” I wasn’t sure if it was the sun or my nerves, but I felt like my body was going into heat shock or something.Mr. Brockwell stared at me, and then I saw his eyes get glassy. He began to speak but then ran his hand over his mouth like he was muffling down what he wanted to say. His hands fumbled with his paper, and he cleared his throat. “It’s good to see—” he paused; it was like the words were getting caught in his throat like tuna inside a fisherman’s net.I realized I was standing still. My legs began to spasm. He caught my eye one more time, but just for a moment before he had to look away. I knew why. It was the reason I never ran past his house anymore. The reason why we couldn’t have a conversation anymore. Everyone used to tell me I was so lucky to look so much like my mom. She was gorgeous. High cheekbones, perfect heart-shaped mouth, sparkling blue eyes that sat perfectly on her oval face. Besides her hair being a stunning ash blond and mine being mouse brown, we did look quite similar. Except that while her features seemed to make her look like Grace Kelly, mine seemed to make me look like, well, not Grace Kelly.But it was moments like this — Mr. Brockwell unable to look at me for more than a minute without having to look away — that I wished I looked less like her. I felt like my face was betraying him. Like my cheekbones and lips were baiting him with memories of him and my mom together. Although now, each memory was served with a side of sorrow instead of a side of joy.I’ll never forget when I saw him two days after the funeral. We bumped into each other at Have Another Cup Coffee Shop on Main Street. First he hugged me and asked how I was doing; then he had to look away, and he told me why.“It hurts to look at you, Marissa. You look so much like her.” I knew how much he loved my mom, and Marc and I enjoyed having him around, but after that moment I made sure to keep my distance. So he went from being Hank to back to being Mr. Brockwell.Now, I stood there — uncomfortable from sweat that covered me head to toe — wondering how much longer I needed to stand there while he avoided my face. “So, I gotta go or my pace is gonna be all messed up.”Hank, I mean, Mr. Brockwell took one final look at me. “Sure, sure.” He started to walk backward then stopped. “Marissa, just so you know. Any time you want to see the lilacs you can.”The lump in my throat held back any words I could have gotten out, so I just waved and made a beeline for the next street so I could start my way back home. Seeing Mr. Brockwell had put me into a fog. My brain wasn’t able to concentrate on my pace or on my footing, and I began to get a shin splint pain on my left-hand side. Unfortunately, this was the same side as the blister. My run was only six miles, but my body was starting to feel like I was at mile thirteen. I couldn’t relax my breathing, and the back of my throat felt like it was on fire every time I inhaled. In my fog, I didn’t realize I forgot to cross Parker Street, and now the only way to get back was to take Fletcher Street again. And run past Sacred Path Cemetery, again. Now, I ran past that cemetery every day on my jog, but only once. Once was all I needed to let me get it out of my system. And it’s not like my mom’s grave is right where I run past. She’s way on the other side, the Cranville Street side. I never run that side. But now, in all the confusion, I have to go past it again. My hand scratched an itch at the back of my neck as the street sign came into view. Like always, I stopped for a moment, took a few deep breaths in and out, then grabbed one big breath of air and held it as I started my way past the cemetery.My focus was way up ahead to the stop sign at the other end. I kept my eyes on that sign and kept my feet stepping under me, quick and steady. I wasn’t even halfway across when I caught sight of some sort of string frantically whipping in the wind, and I was running straight toward it. My gaze moved to follow the line of the string, trying to see what it was attached to, and that’s when I saw it, caught in the big tree right by the fence. The red, heart-shaped metallic balloon, and my heart hit the ground.

Buy links:
Amazon             BarnesandNoble


Author Bio-Susan Soares grew up in a small town in Massachusetts, always dreaming of one day being an author. After numerous short stories, poems and plays, those dreams finally became a reality when her first book, My Zombie Ex-Boyfriends was published. (Featherweight Press, 2013) Her second book Heart on a String was just released in June 2014 by Astraea Press.
Susan received her MA in Creative Writing and English from Southern New Hampshire University, and will be pursuing teaching soon. When she isn't writing Susan spends her time reading, experimenting with photography, planning her next Disney World vacation and chasing after her kids.
Susan loves to read YA fiction. Maybe it's because her inner sixteen-year-old still wants to be prom queen.

Connect with Susan Soares:
 Twitter
YoutubeWebsite
Blog
Goodreads Author page

Wattpad

Never Say Forever – by Kay Harborne

Contemporary romance is in the Summer Reading Spotlight with:Never Say Forever – by Kay Harborne
Never Say Forever  
Do you follow your dream or follow your heart?
That’s the decision Kendall McKenzie has to make when she meets hunky businessman Jake Newman. It’s obvious that he’s as attracted to her as she is to him. But Kendall has vowed to never get married – and it seems that Jake, too, is determined to never commit. When the two are together however sparks fly and it’s obvious to everyone except themselves that they’re meant to be together. Can Kendall trust Jake enough to give him her heart? And if she does will she have to say goodbye to her dream?
Extract He turned and saw an open door leading into the kitchen where Kendall, her back towards him, was unplugging the kettle. She was wearing a neat, grey, pinstriped suit, the jacket tapering in at the waist and the skirt finishing just above the knee, with enough of a slit to reveal her very shapely legs.She turned around and smiled at him, and his heart missed a beat. She was incredibly pretty and fresh, even at this early hour. Her glowing hair was loosely tied back from her face, which was bare of make--‐‑up apart from a touch of lipstick, and her eyes were bright and sparkling, as if she’d had a restful night’s sleep.“OK, I’m ready now. I’ve just got to get my suitcase out of the bedroom.”Here was where he was supposed to tell her that she was staying at the Birmingham office, that he didn’t need her in Spain, after all. But the words wouldn’t come. He might not need her in Spain with him, but he definitely wanted her there.“Ouch!” Kendall’s cry of pain interrupted his thoughts. He dashed down the hall and saw her bending down, rubbing the back of her leg, the suitcase on the floor behind her.“Are you all right?” he asked, worried. His eyes rested on the hole in her tights and the bruise already forming. “That looks nasty,” he said sympathetically.She flushed. “The case was heavier than I thought. I stumbled and caught the back of my leg with it. I’ll be fine. I just need to change my tights.”“I’ll wait in the car for you.” He effortlessly picked up the heavy suitcase. “And we’re all right for a few minutes if you want to put some ice on that bruise.” Without waiting for an answer, he carried the suitcase out the front door.Maybe he was the one who needed the ice, he thought, as he took the case down to the car. The sight of Kendall’s bare skin peeping through the hole in her tights and hint of cleavage as she’d bent down to rub her leg had certainly made his temperature rise.Don’t even think about it, he warned himself as he pressed the remote to open the car boot. This was a business trip, and he had to keep it that way. He never mixed business with pleasure and he wasn’t about to start now. Not even with Kendall McKenzie.Especially not with Kendall McKenzie.
****
It was only as she walked into the car park at the back of the flats that Kendall realised she didn’t know what sort of car Jake drove, but the sleek, midnight--‐‑blue sedan just had to be his. She was a bit taken aback when he got out, walked around,and opened the passenger door for her. Not many guys did that nowadays.“Thank you,” she said as she slid onto the leather seat.“My pleasure.” There was a hint of teasing in his reply, as if he knew he’d surprised her.“Love the car,” she said as he got in beside her.He flashed her a smile. “I quite like it too.”“It might have been better if you’d got someone to drop us off at the airport so they could take the car back,” she suggested. “I wouldn’t risk leaving a car like this parked at the airport.”ʺI’m not. I’ve left a spare set of keys with my chauffeur. He’ll pick it up later this morning then drive it home for me. It didn’t seem fair to drag him out of bed this early.”He’s a nice guy, Kendall thought, kind and considerate yet rich and successful. In her experience, the qualities didnʹt always mix.As they drove along, she was acutely aware of his presence beside her, of his strong hands holding the wheel casually but firmly, of his left hand reaching down to change gears effortlessly and smoothly, just a few centimetres from her knee.“How long did you teach in Thailand?” he asked her. “I spent a bit of time over there myself a couple of years ago. It’s a beautiful country.”“I was there for a year.” She was glad of the diversion. “I taught in a school in Chiang Mai.”For the rest of the journey they spoke about Thailand and some of the other countries they had both visited, and she realised that he was actually very easy to talk to with a good sense of humour. She was almost sorry when they arrived at the airport; she’d enjoyed his company so much.Careful, she told herself. I bet he’s as charming as this with all the women he meets. She knew he had a reputation for collecting beautiful girlfriends — Tanya had hinted as much at the engagement party. He was the eternal bachelor. Well, she was the eternal bachelor girl, wasn’t she? She could handle Jake Newman, even if he did make her go all goose-bumpy
Buy Links Amazon USAmazon UK
About Kay HarborneKay Harborne has written several romance stories for women's magazines. Her romance novel The Millionaire Plan was nominated for the RONE Award earlier this year. Never Say Forever was originally published by as a People’s Friend Pocket Novel, then in large print by Linford Romance. She is delighted that Astraea Press have republished it.  Kay has also written many children's books under the name of Karen King. She loves reading, writing and eating chocolate.
Links Website: http://www.karenking.net/Twitter: @karen_kingAmazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Kay-Harborne/e/...

Feeding Fandom with Ally Carter, Jennifer Lynn Barnes, Rachel Vincent, and Sarah Rees Brennan

Young Adult and authors and books have been on my mind since I returned from the Romance Writers of America national conference and Indie Book Signing in San Antonio, Texas.
L-R: Jennifer Lynn Barnes, Ally Carter, Sarah Rees Brennan, Rachel Vincent

Jennifer Lynn Barnes (http://www.jenniferlynnbarnes.com), Ally Carter (http://allycarter.com), Sarah Rees Brennan (http://sarahreesbrennan.com), and Rachel Vincent (http://rachelvincent.com) led an excellent marketing panel on “Feeding the Fandom: How to Turn Regular YA Readers into Raging Fangirls (and Boys)."
“Fiction is an Invitation to Imagine.”Readers are passive. But in fandom, Super Fans rally around characters, stories, romances, and/or an author. The Super Fans live and breathe the stories, creating their own related art, stories, and character romances.

Gaps and HintsOf the many great tips the panel offered, this one particularly resonated with me. Super Fans latch onto gaps or hints left by the author. And if an appealing minor character doesn’t have a love interest, Super Fans will create a romance for the character. If the author has dropped hints that two characters are interested in each other, Super Fans will create a fan fiction romance.
Acknowledge Your FansFans and word of mouth can drive a book or author onto the Best Seller lists. So acknowledge your fans! Some authors (Ally Carter is an excellent example) provide links on their website or blog to their Super Fans' blogs and other social media accounts. This not only acknowledges the Super Fans, it gives them a place to connect with each other.
Middle Grade vs. YAHere’s an excellent article from Publishers Weekly. "Middle Grade and YA: Where to Draw the Line." Enjoy!
http://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/childrens/childrens-industry-news/article/63358-middle-grade-and-ya-where-to-draw-the-line.html?utm_source=Publishers+Weekly&utm_campaign=73eb1488aa-UA-15906914-1&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_0bb2959cbb-73eb1488aa-304449477

~Ariella Moon
http://www.AriellaMoon.com

Susan Rush Inspires with Just Over the Horizon

The spotlight on summer reading continues with Susan Rush's contemporary inspirational romance, JUST OVER THE HORIZON Please welcome fellow Astraea Press author, Susan Rush!                                 Can one small box mend a grieving heart? Just Over the Horizonby Susan Rush Blurb:   While grieving the death of her eccentric nana, Sarah discovers an unexpected gift. She soon grows dependent on the heirloom, a little box, for comfort and guidance. Feeling restless and needing a change, Sarah accepts a job as a traveling hospice nurse and ends up in the quaint, historical town of Camden, South Carolina. Although she loves caring for her patients, loneliness creeps in and threatens to take root. Eventually she opens herself to new friendships, and two remarkable yet vastly differing men compete for her attention. Nate is a true Southerner with a sarcastic wit and genuine warmth, while Dr. Joseph Thornton is a caring oncologist who is known as the best catch in the state. 
     Facing heart-wrenching trials, the faith of her childhood is all but shattered. In spite of this, Sarah seeks comfort from her box and is determined to cling to Nana’s godly legacy. But when a mysterious stranger appears with devastating news, can her cherished box continue to provide answers or will Sarah realize her life has been based on nothing but lies?


About the author:Susan grew up in Charlotte, NC and has a psychology degree from Furman University and masters in social work from the University of South Carolina. She jokes that God didn't lead her to a career in hospice; He took her kicking and screaming the whole way. Now passionate about end-of-life care, she has worked with hospice for more than twenty years. She presently serves as a hospice director. She lives in Columbia, SC with her husband and three children.
Website: http://www.SusanDRush.com     Blog: http://www.oodlesofgrace.blogspot.com     Just Over the Horizon Available at:Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Just-Over-HorizonGoodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/search?utf8... HYPERLINK "https://www.goodreads.com/search?utf8... HYPERLINK "https://www.goodreads.com/search?utf8...
KOBO: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/just-over-the-horizon

Win a Free Young Adult book during the Christmas in July Giveaway Hop!

Celebrate Christmas in July with a Free ebook Copy of Spell Fire, Book #3, The Teen Wytche Saga by Ariella MoonHere in the California desert, July temperatures can reach over 120 degrees Fahrenheit (50 Celsius). So who wouldn't want to escape into a Christmas book? I'll be giving away one ebook copy of Spell Fire, a sweet, Young Adult paranormal romance.

USA Today chose the Spell Fire Book trailer as a "Must-see"!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
The following blogs are also participating in the Christmas in July Giveaway Hop:

USA Today Picks Spell Fire as a Must-See Video

Robin Covington, special to USA Today, picked the trailer for Spell Fire as a featured, "Must-see" video. I'm so glad the trailer (Videos by O) made Robin "giggle in all the right places."



Opal Campbell of Videos by O and I exchanged many late-night emails as we collaborated on the making of the trailer. Opal is awesome to work with!
Here's the link to the USA Today review and the trailer. Enjoy!

http://www.usatoday.com/story/happyeverafter/2014/07/16/recommended-book-videos-moon-scott-reeves/12751413/?hootPostID=6c41a1addbf1d394544b51b5c1eab88d
Thank you Robin Covington for your wonderful review!And special thanks to Barbara Millman Cole who devised one of the lines in the Spell Fire book blurb/trailer.

Spell Struck: Sweet Teen Fiction

The Teen Wytche Saga skewed a little edgier last July when Astraea Press released Spell Struck, Book #2 in my Young Adult paranormal romance series. The story alternates between the point of view of Salem, a high school goth outcast and Aidan…




As a child, Aidan thought he was being rescued, not abducted. Now fifteen and homeless, he realizes he was taken because of his Gypsy blood. His kidnappers believe he’ll lead them to the Grey Grimoire, a valuable gypsy spell book. Madness. The book doesn’t even exist.

Or does it?
Salem is charged with fixing a half-destroyed spell book, her last hope for saving her sister. Amy attempted suicide and the meds aren’t helping. Maybe a powerful Get Well Spell will cure her.

Aidan’s kidnappers will kill to attain the Grey Grimoire. But if he destroys it, Salem will hate him. Either way, he loses. Again.

ExcerptAidan lowered his hand. His finger pressed against my skin, shooting a delicious tingle up my arm. When I didn’t move away, he hooked his finger over mine. My breath caught. We stayed, frozen, hyper-focused, for what seemed like three lifetimes. Then Aidan trailed his fingertips across the back of my hand. The soundtrack, popcorn smells, and theater audience melted into the background. The world narrowed down to the unspoken grief and need entangled in Aidan’s touch.I rotated my hand so my palm faced upward. Aidan hesitated. Our gazes locked in the flickering light. The spell link humming between us lit up like blue lightning. At least I think it was the spell link. Aidan plunged his fingers between mine. Our palms pressed together, igniting a current. Air shuddered from my lungs. Magic rippled from us in successive waves.My heart stuttered. My breath ceased. Every cell within me vibrated. Troops of fairies or dragonflies took flight in my lower abdomen. It’s possible blue lightning shot from my boots. Good thing I wasn’t holding the popcorn.
Buy Links for Spell Struck and the rest of the Teen Wytche Saga by Ariella Moon
AMAZON: http://www.amazon.com/Ariella-Moon/e/B0071NUOAK/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

BARNES and NOBLE: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/spell-struck-ariella-moon/1116092740?ean=2940148734796

SMASHWORDS: http://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/8187

KOBO: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/Search?

iTUNES: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/spell-struck/id677459916?mt=11