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.
Stay or flee? Life or family? An impossible choice.
It's Aug 13, 1961, in Berlin Germany. Nationale Volksarmee soldiers roll barbed wire across the war-torn city to create the first Berlin Wall. Families are separated, livelihoods destroyed, death comes easily as crippling fear paralyzes the occupants on both sides of the wall. Fifteen-year-old Ella is faced with an agonizing decision. Does she risk crossing the wall and possible death to reach her family? Or does she embrace her new life and blossoming love that could be wrenched from her at any moment? West Germany and possible freedom or East Germany and controlled chaos?
Ensnare, the first book in the “Berlin Butterfly” series, is a story of life, love, survival and the struggle of living through the dark early years of the Berlin Wall. Readers will be captivated with Ella’s strength, determination, and vulnerability as she opens her heart amidst a dangerous and terrifying journey."
Snippet:
My terror grew with each passing
moment. The perpetual blast of heat winded me, allowing perspiration as the
only source of wetness on my parched lips. My drenched hair weightily stuck to
my face, and the salt stung my eyes. When the whispers paused, I heard a steady
drip of fluid. It hurt to think. Where is
the water coming from? I assumed it was a faucet on the tub then realized
the sound was much closer . . . the bowls. With my hands still positioned
underneath my body, liquid easily rolled off my skin . . . they were collecting
my sweat.
moment. The perpetual blast of heat winded me, allowing perspiration as the
only source of wetness on my parched lips. My drenched hair weightily stuck to
my face, and the salt stung my eyes. When the whispers paused, I heard a steady
drip of fluid. It hurt to think. Where is
the water coming from? I assumed it was a faucet on the tub then realized
the sound was much closer . . . the bowls. With my hands still positioned
underneath my body, liquid easily rolled off my skin . . . they were collecting
my sweat.
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