Leah Moyes is from
Arizona but experienced many parts of the world in thanks to a career in the
airlines. Now most of her time, aside from writing, is spent with her family,
reading Historical Fiction novels or studying ancient cultures as a student of
Archaeology.
She always believed she was born in the wrong time period, but since she
doesn’t have access to a time machine she must write and read intriguing
stories of the past.
Did you know that Berlin Butterfly: Ensnare recently won Honorable Mention for Historical Fiction in the Reader's Favorite International Book Contest? Check it out!
https://readersfavorite.com/2019-award-contest-winners.htm
Treachery, heartache, and loneliness led Ella Kühn to take her first drink of alcohol ten years ago. When the delusions begin, images from her past threaten to challenge her state of mind. Ironically, the very thing that haunts her, is the thing that has kept her alive—the butterfly tattoo covering the gunshot wound to her right shoulder. It’s physical and emotional reminder not only symbolizes her courage, but also signifies Stefan’s absence . . . which now spans twelve years.
Book 2
It’s 1983 in the Deutsch Democratic Republic. Trust remains a fragile ally as the Communist Bloc begins to crumble. Ella’s involvement in the rising opposition and underground punk movement, puts her more at risk than any escape plan ever could. She is followed, watched and hunted . . . but by whom? An old enemy? The Secret Police? Or her new employer?
Book 3
In Release, the third and final installment of the Berlin Butterfly Series, Ella battles her inner demons as she struggles to survive the ever-growing darkness in the East. Will she regain her former strength and find a way to flee to the thinning borders of Czechoslovakia and join Anton and Josef? Or will ties to her precarious past keep her bound—her only release found in the freedom of pain and guilt while embracing life without her family in East Berlin?
Snippet From Deception:
“This will be our adieu, for tomorrow we will be liberated,” Karl mumbled and hobbled to his chair where his own tattered coat hung. His friends doubled over, equally intoxicated.
“Karl,” I quickly twisted around and reached for his arm. “What do you mean by that?”
“Oh . . .” He laughed again. “Did I not tell you?”
My stare absorbing him hard, I quickly pulled him away from the others and into a corner for privacy.
“We are leaving tomorrow. It’s all planned.”
“What’s planned?” My tone became serious.
“Do not worry about me, princess,” Karl hooted, “I will no longer be bound by the communist inhumanity and their collectivist agenda.”
I shook my head and tightened my grip on his arm. “Please don’t.”
“Oh, sure, you were quite insistent I leave earlier, only now . . . now you want me to stay. I’m sorry I cannot love you.”
Karl’s dramatics got a degree louder at the last of his sentence. He enjoyed the fact I was nearly begging.
“Stop it!” I growled, “You know what I mean!”
“Ella,” Karl seemed sober for one short minute. “There is no life here. I have made my choice. I choose freedom.”
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