{"product_id":"celtic-moon-isbn-9780425266205","title":"Celtic Moon","description":"\u003cb\u003eLike father, like son…\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eSophie Thibodeau has been on the run from the father of her son for more than fifteen years. Now her son, Joshua, is changing, and her greatest fears are about to be realized. He’s going to end up being just like his father—a man who can change into a wolf.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eDylan Black has been hunting for Sophie since the night she ran from him—an obsession he cannot afford in the midst of an impending war. Dylan controls Rhuddin Village, an isolated town in Maine where he lives with an ancient Celtic tribe. One of the few of his clan who can still shift into a wolf, he must protect his people from the Guardians, vicious warriors who seek to destroy them.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eWhen Sophie and Dylan come together for the sake of their son, their reunion reignites the fierce passion they once shared. For the first time in years, Dylan’s lost family is within his grasp. But will he lose them all over again? Are Joshua and Sophie strong enough to fight alongside Dylan in battle? Nothing less than the fate of his tribe depends on it…\u003cb\u003eJan DeLima \u003c\/b\u003elives in central Maine with her husband of twenty years and two English bulldogs. Unlike many authors, she didn’t pen stories at an early age, but she has always been a dedicated reader. She loves stories and storytelling. It wasn’t until after her children entered school that she began writing. Raised in a military family, she lived in different countries such as Thailand and Germany, but home base has always been Maine. She brings a mixture of all her experiences to \u003ci\u003eCeltic Moon\u003c\/i\u003e, her first published novel, blending castles and Celtic lore with the wild nature of her home.One\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eRhuddin Vill age, Maine, USA\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003ePresent Day\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eDescribed in a recent travel guide as, “A quiet town tucked into the base of Mount Katahdin at the end of the Appalachian Trail.”\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnother war was inevitable.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDylan felt this with utter certainty. The Katahdin territory, \u003ci\u003ehis \u003c\/i\u003eterritory, had remained unspoiled over the years by human progress—due to his calculated precautions. Nature thrived in untouched glory, raw and powerful, a precious achievement during these modern times.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAn achievement his enemies coveted.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It’s a message,” Dylan said with deliberate calm as he watched his brother stalk across the kitchen.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“No shit,” Luc snapped, throwing a crumpled ball of linen in Dylan’s direction. Dressed only in a pair of faded jeans, with wild black hair tangled about bare shoulders, Luc looked just as much a predator now as he did in wolf form. His skin was absent of tattoos, indicating that he had shifted in haste, a warning to those who knew him well to tread lightly.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDylan snatched the offending item in midair and smoothed it out on the wooden island. It was blue linen with a gold stag embroidered across the top, circled by a horned snake. The royal banner of the \u003ci\u003eGwarchodwyr Unfed\u003c\/i\u003e, the Originals of their kind. \u003ci\u003eThe Guardians. \u003c\/i\u003eVicious, powerful, and without conscience. Self-appointed protectors of their race.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eInbred assholes, the lot of them.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe traced the hand-hewn embroidery of the banner. “Where was it found?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“On the north ridge.” A dangerous light sparked in Luc’s silver eyes, promising vengeance. “Tied to the Great Oak.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe tree stood a short distance from the north entrance to their territory. Not a direct challenge. \u003ci\u003eNot yet. \u003c\/i\u003eBut the message was clear: \u003ci\u003eWe are watching you.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It seems”—Dylan brushed the banner to the side, his inner battle carefully masked by a calm exterior—“that the Guardians are restless.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“We must respond.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I know,” Dylan growled. The walls of his control began to fracture. His wolf didn’t understand politics or passivity.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt wanted the blood of the idiot who dared challenge his dominance.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe walked over to the sink, shoved open the window, and breathed in the fresh spring air. The scent of his forest, pine and wet earth, soothed the animal within.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLuc stilled, watching, waiting, utterly quiet—a pose unnatural to a wolf just as dominant, just as powerful as Dylan.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“We will respond,” Dylan continued after a few moments, arriving at a dangerous decision. “But not in the expected way. I’m going forward with the plan as discussed. It’s time to gather with other leaders who have valued territories.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eLeaders without loyalties to the Guardians.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLuc stayed silent for several moments, and then gave a sharp nod. “I just wonder who’ll have the balls to come.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“All of them,” Dylan surmised. “Either out of curiosity or need.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Or deceit.” “That too.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“But they are Celts.” Luc sounded more persuaded by that simple fact. Celts protected their people.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThey were also suspicious, stubborn bastards, unwilling to follow any form of leadership other than their own. Add a little wolf blood to the mix and any gathering had the potential to be downright volatile, as history had proven countless times.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“So be it.” A malicious smile of anticipation spread across Luc’s face. “The time is ripe for a gathering.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDylan ignored his brother’s comment as he looked out the kitchen window. Spring was quite possibly the \u003ci\u003eworst \u003c\/i\u003etime of year for a gathering of their kind.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOrange hues from the setting sun filtered through bare branches, forming dark silhouettes against the horizon. His forest looked dormant, with brown fields and patches of snow lingering in sunless areas. However, Dylan knew the truth, as did his brother, as would anyone with wolf blood running through his or her veins. Underneath the shroud of a waning winter, plants grew, buds formed, animals ended their hibernation. Life awakened. Its energy hummed along his skin like a thousand fingers, whispering promises of power. “We must watch our sister closely.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Elen can take care of herself.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDylan braced his arms on the counter, letting his head fall forward. “That’s what concerns me.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLuc chuckled, a sound more sardonic than amused. “It may be time we revealed our strength.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“If our enemies push us,” Dylan said, looking over his shoulder to meet his brother’s gaze, “they will learn soon\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eenough.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLuc crossed his arms and leaned against the center is- land, his relaxed stance a controlled deception. “I suggest we call everyone in from the cities.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Agreed.” A few of their people lived amongst pure hu- mans, secret ambassadors of sorts, as was necessary to influ- ence the laws of an accelerating world. “Let’s bring all our people home.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSophie Thibodeau stood outside the Providence Public Library trying to decide who was more insane, the homeless man practicing a colorful sermon on a milk crate, or her as she punched in Dylan’s number on her shiny new disposable prepaid phone.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThere was a strong possibility that she may have won the crazy contest, considering the man she was about to call had been hunting her for over fifteen years.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSophie hugged her jacket closed as a chill shuddered down her spine. She had traveled into the city specifically to activate the phone using a public computer at the library. Her location needed to be as untraceable as possible. Was she being a tad paranoid? \u003ci\u003eHell, yes. \u003c\/i\u003eHiding from a man who wasn’t exactly human had taught her a few lessons.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer heart pounded as she stared down at the phone. Questions flooded her thoughts, weakening her resolve. What if Dylan wasn’t there? What if the number had been changed? What if he refused to accept the call, deciding instead to contact her on \u003ci\u003ehis \u003c\/i\u003eterms? To hunt her down and trap her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eCalm down, \u003c\/i\u003eshe coached herself, taking a deep breath. And just push the little green button.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eFor Joshua.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe transient paused in his sermon, adjusting a rainbow- colored beret over matted brown and gray hair. A cool breeze carried his stench: mildew, unwashed skin, and alcohol. Sophie thought he had paused for dramatic effect, but then large brown eyes met hers.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Are you okay, child?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eChild? \u003c\/i\u003eFor the love of God, she was thirty-six years old. \u003ci\u003eAnd \u003c\/i\u003epathetic, if a drunken homeless man was asking \u003ci\u003eher \u003c\/i\u003eif she needed help.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m fine,” she answered back with a tight smile, simply because her mother had taught her never to be rude. Her mother had also taught her not to be a coward. The man didn’t look too convinced. No surprise there; neither was she.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSophie turned her back on him and walked a short distance down the sidewalk. The streetlights flickered on, mingling with headlights from passing traffic. Either she was going to make the call or brave Providence traffic during rush hour.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe pushed the button and held the receiver to her ear.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSix rings, then a terse, “Hello.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMale, but not Dylan.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer breath whooshed out. But the rush of relief lasted only moments until reality forced her to form coherent words. “Is Dylan available?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“No.” The tone was dismissive. “Are you wanting to leave a message?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003ePorter, \u003c\/i\u003eshe guessed. \u003ci\u003eOne of Dylan’s guard dogs\u003c\/i\u003e—a tattooed skinhead on steroids. The prick had locked her in Dylan’s room once. She had escaped under his watch. That thought gave her some satisfaction. She cleared her throat, gaining courage. “This is Sophie.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSilence.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eIs it a sin to gain pleasure at someone else’s discomfort? \u003c\/i\u003eProbably. A small part of her enjoyed it anyway. “I will be at this number for another hour. If Dylan wants to talk to me, have him return my call.” Three heartbeats later she added, “It concerns his son.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNo answer.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Are you still there?” she asked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yes.” The single clipped word screamed, \u003ci\u003eBitch.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe gave Porter the number and hung up, tucking the phone into her coat pocket. To keep busy, she grabbed her purse, found twenty dollars, and walked over to the homeless man.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe reached out a gloved hand but paused when a passerby snapped, “He’ll only drink it away.” Sophie turned to the middle-aged woman, dressed in a casual coat and jeans. “Maybe that’s what he needs to survive this world.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe woman shrugged and kept walking.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“God bless you, child.” The transient snatched the money. “I’ll pray for you.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Thank you, sir.” Sophie fingered the phone in her pocket. “I need all the prayers I can get.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe searched the area for a secluded place to wait and headed toward a vacant park across the street. There was no grass in this section of the city, just brick and pavement, marble-colored benches, and tall slabs of granite.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs she dashed across the busy street, her left thigh began to ache, a tingling numbness rather than true pain, where nerve endings had been severed in a long slash from hip to calf by a red wolf with golden eyes. \u003ci\u003eA female wolf.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe scars bothered Sophie most when it rained, an annoying reminder of the night she ran away from her son’s father, the night she learned that the monsters in legends did indeed exist.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Ace","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304723861733,"sku":"NP9780425266205","price":7.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780425266205.jpg?v=1767723521","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/celtic-moon-isbn-9780425266205","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}