CHARLOCK’S SECRET by LEAH MOYES BOOK BLITZ





Leah Moyes is from the sunny state of Arizona. She is a wife and a mother, a former teacher, and a coach with a background in Archaeology. She loves popcorn and seafood (though not together) and is slowly checking off her very long bucket list.  




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Desperate to hide, Kat flees. Now, trapped in time, her survival and return are threatened by her tortured heart.
Ensnared by hopelessness and grief, twenty-four-year-old Kat Shelton accepts a position as the curator of an old English estate with the sole purpose of running away from her memories and to bury life’s pain.

What she finds on her journey is much more than she bargained for—an arrogant employer, patronizing staff, and a chaotic system to name a few. Then to top it all off, an unforeseen tumble down the antiquated cellar steps brings her to a sudden halt.

Waking up in the year 1878, and mistaken for the children’s new governess, Kat scrambles to navigate nineteenth-century British lifestyle and culture. An impossible feat if it weren’t for the help of the Gilford girls and their charming and handsome brother, Merritt.


Will Kat find the strength, love and forgiveness she yearns for in the past? Or will her path bring her back to the reality she fears?

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Snippet:

“Katharine,” Lizzy continued, “these are a few of Merritt’s former classmates from Oxford. Each one has agreed to be your escort for a set.”
A cough camouflaged my gasps as I reached for her wrist, followed by a pathetic “excuse me” before I towed her away. Through the hall, we ended in the quiet solitude of the library. Fortunately, we were alone.
“What is the cause of this inconvenience?” She cried. Anger formed on her brow, possibly mixed with the heat of humiliation.
“Lizzy!” I wrung my hands together. “I—I . . .”
“What?” She demanded.
“I don’t know if I can do this . . .”
“Do what?” She shouted with frustration. I met her eyes pleadingly but struggled to share the actual reason for my panic. “What Katharine?” She repeated indignantly.
I bit the inside of my cheek and forced the tears to stop.
“Katharine!”
“I don’t know how to dance!”
The room fell silent. The red in her face vanished as she chuckled.
“Are you jesting?” She waited for me to confirm the joke.
“No.” I put my hands to my cheeks and dropped to the nearest sofa, defeated. 



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