Spotlight: A Mother's Grace: Healing the World, One Woman at a Time by Michelle Moore

As women everywhere are dealing with unprecedented trials and stress in their lives, A Mother’s Grace: Healing the World One Woman at a Time shares remarkable true (and inspiring) stories from female change-makers with advice about turning adversity into action.  

Author Michelle Moore shares how her adversity became a global movement when she survived an aggressive form of breast cancer at the same time her son faced near fatal complications from juvenile diabetes. Grateful to be alive, she was compelled to make changes in her life and in the lives of others. Along with her own personal story, Moore shares the stories of 10 women and how their lives serendipitously came together in the most unique ways so she could continue to grow this movement and partner with these women in quite miraculous ways. 

Excerpt

HOW TO CREATE YOUR OWN PHILANTHROPIC MISSION: 

THE SIX BRANCHES TO GRACE 

Adapted excerpt from A Mother’s Grace: Healing the World One Woman at a Time

By Michelle Moore

All it takes to begin is taking one step forward, inspired by a dream or a yearning to do something. You may want to start your own 501(c)(3) or volunteer at a local hospital, holding drug-addicted babies. You may want to write a book or start a social media campaign. Whatever it may be, all that’s holding you back is fear. 

But fear does not need to render you motionless. Here’s what you can do, one step at a time, according to what I call the Six Branches to Grace. I firmly believe you need to be in touch with God and the world, and most of all your true self, before you can fully realize your own divine journey. Take a stab at the following suggestions that got me started. 

1. Grab a notebook. 

I believe our phones may be our demise, distracting us from the beauty of the world. God does not come to us on our phones. God’s grace comes in the connections we make with our family, friends, pets, communities, and co-workers, and to those desperately in need of a hand to hold during difficult times. So put your device down, look up and around you, and start to tune in to God’s signs and guidance. 

Take a notebook with you and keep articles and assorted things inside it that move you and feel important. Write like a banshee every time something pops into your head. I carried around a red leather notebook for eighteen years. I filled it with articles, advice, photos of inspiring scenes, ideas, quotes, and small pieces of what became content in this book. Make that notebook your own personal project, like a vision board coming to life. 

2. Pray. 

Pray to your God, the universe, or a higher power. To me, prayer is meditation, a release. It’s a total letting go to what will be, and when I have no distractions, I can feel a buzz throughout my body, like every cell is alive but calm. Just find a routine that works for you. I don’t believe there is a right or wrong way to pray, but closing your eyes and finding stillness can change the trajectory of your day. Here is an amazing episode on the Science of Success podcast that has assisted me in this process, called, “ The Shocking Secret You Must Know to Create Lasting Behavior Change with John Assaraf.” 

3. Listen to inspirational music. 

I have my own “innercise” and exercise playlists and after listening my blood is pumping, primarily from great music that gets my ass in gear and makes me appreciate how precious life is. It’s amazing how music can get you going. My friend makes me the most amazing playlists and whenever I am mad or down I listen to them. This reminds me of how he feels about me, and any petty stuff I may be feeling just melts away. 

4. Read! 

I’ve always been a reader. When I was five years old, I joined a book club in the summer and if I read ten books, I got a free book from the library. I was thrilled to get that new book—the smell, its feel, and the sense of a new adventure. When you’re seeking a quieter, more internal form of inspiration and comfort, read! Keep three or four books by your bedside with a highlighter and read for an hour before you go to sleep. I struggle with this one because at night I like to “check out” mindlessly on Netflix. That means I must force myself to slow down and read, and I’m never sorry when I make that choice. 

5. Enlist your posse. 

This is of utmost importance. If you don’t have one, create one now. Put together a group of girlfriends who have your back, who you can talk to in the utmost confidence, and who will tell you like it is—lovingly at first, but they should also be willing to hit you over the head, if and when you are being ridiculous. (Confession: I have bruises all over my head.) As you develop your ideas, ask for their opinions and steady feedback. They should also hold you accountable and keep you moving. I called on my posse throughout the entire process of writing this book and developing the charity. 

Over the last ten years, I’ve formed a writing group, a travel group, a birthday group, a lunch group, and a prayer group. These special women have carried me through more than any one person in my life, and they are way cheaper than the $150 to $200 bucks you pay for 47.5 minutes with a therapist. (Yes, I like therapists, too, but the older I get the more I appreciate the strong women in my life—my posse.) You can start with one “bestie” and grow it. No games, no agenda, no drama—just pure friendship. 

6. Secure a project partner. 

This may be key for you. I could not get all of my ideas on paper, which made my situation seem insurmountable. Had I not found my project partner, it would have taken me another eighteen years and I would be in an old folks’ home, still trying to write this book. Tell people your goals. Be honest; lay your fears aside and tell the people you have recruited that they will become like vehicles to help you find the right people. You may have to pay your project partner, but that is why they are experts in their field and worth your investment. Aren’t you and your goals worth it, too? 

Project partners can be writers, life coaches, therapists, trainers, spiritual advisors, and/or editors, but whomever you choose, it should be someone who can hold you accountable. Paying for these services holds me way more accountable to the process and keeps me motivated and on track. If you can’t find the right fit for your philanthropic mission and you genu- inely feel like your idea fills a gap in the world, then you can start your own 501(c)(3). 

Michelle Moore is a senior vice president for Laboratory Corporation of America; and founder of Mother’s Grace, a nonprofit organization that has raised more than $5 million for families in acute crisis, and assisting more than 6,000 mothers throughout the world. Michelle is also the author of the upcoming book A Mother's Grace: Healing the World One Woman at a Time (HCI, August 2020).

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About the Author

By day, author Michelle Moore oversees the COVID-19 testing response as a senior vice president for Laboratory Corporation of America; by night, she is the founder of Mother’s Grace, a nonprofit organization that has raised more than $5 million for families in acute crisis, assisting more than 6,000 mothers in the state of Arizona and throughout the world. Mother’s Grace addresses the critical needs of mothers and their children in the midst of tragic life events by helping them with housing costs, medication, meals, housekeeping, childcare, transportation, and a host of other immediate needs. Through mentorship and seed grants, Mother’s Grace also assists women in starting their own nonprofits, with the goal of producing a new generation of women leaders. 

Michelle is the recipient of MASK Unity’s Moms Making a Difference Award, the highly coveted Hon-Kachina Award and the AIDS Healthcare Foundation’s Philanthropy in Action Award. In 2019, Moore was awarded the Phoenix Business Journal’s Outstanding Women in Business award and was granted a State of Arizona Commendation by First Lady Angela Ducey for her extraordinary service to the people of Arizona. 

Connect:

Website: https://mothers-grace.org/

FB: https://www.facebook.com/Mothers-Grace-196458780398320/

IG: https://www.instagram.com/mothersgrace_/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/gracefulmoms

Spotlight: A Game of Fate by Scarlett St. Clair

Publication date: September 18th 2020
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Retelling

Hades, God of the Underworld, is known for his inflexible rule, luxurious night clubs, and impossible bargains. Used to control, he is not prepared to discover the Fates have chosen his future wife and Queen—Persephone, Goddess of Spring.

Despite her attraction to the god, Persephone, an ambitious journalism student, is determined to expose Hades for his cruel and ruthless ways.

Hades finds himself faced with the impossible—proving his future bride wrong. Regardless of his efforts, there are forces who wish to keep the two apart and Hades comes to realize he will do anything for his forbidden love, even defy Fate.

Excerpt

A smell brought him out of his thoughts and gave him pause. It was familiar—wildflowers, both bitter and sweet.

Demeter, he thought. 

The Goddess of Harvest’s name was sour on his tongue. Demeter had few passions in life, but one of them was her hatred for the God of the Dead.

He inhaled again, taking the scent deeper. Something about it was off. Mingled with the familiar aroma was the sweetness of vanilla and a mild, herbal note of lavender. A mortal, perhaps? Someone with the goddess’s favor?

The scent drew him out of the darkness in which he had lingered to the edge of the balcony, where he scanned the crowd and found her immediately. 

The woman who smelled like vanilla, lavender, and his enemy sat poised on the edge of one of his sofas in a pink dress that left little to the imagination. He liked the way her hair curled, falling in luminous waves down her back. His fingers itches to touch it, to pull it until her head tipped back and she looked him in the eyes. 

Look at me, he commanded, desperate to see her face. 

She seemed to look everywhere before her gaze halted on him. His hand tightened around his glass, the other gripped the balcony rail. 

She was beautiful—lush lips, high cheekbones, and eyes as green as new spring. Her expression was startled at first, eyes widening slightly, transforming into something fierce and passionate as her gaze swept his face and form. 

She is yours, a voice echoed in his head, and something inside him snapped. Claim her. 

The command was feral. He had to grind his teeth to keep from obeying, and he thought he might shatter the glass in his hand from clutching it too tight. The impulse to whisk her away to the Underworld was strong, like a spell. He had never thought himself so weak, but his restraint was a thin, frayed thread.

How could he want this woman so badly? What was this unnatural pull? He stared at her harder, searching for a reason, and became aware that he was not the only one feeling the effects of their connection. She fidgeted beneath his gaze, her chest rising and falling as her breath hitched, her skin turning a pretty pink, and he had the thought that he would like to follow that flush with his lips. 

He would give anything to know what she was thinking. 

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About the Author

Scarlett St. Clair lives in Oklahoma with her husband. She has a Master's degree in Library Science and Information Studies and spends a lot of time researching reincarnation, unsolved murders and Greek mythology-all of which made it into her debut novel, When Stars Come Out.

Connect:

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https://twitter.com/ScarlettStClai1

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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18145334.Scarlett_St_Clair

https://authorscarlettstclair.tumblr.com/Newsletter

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Spotlight: All the Missing Pieces by Julianna Keyes

Reese Carlisle hates her life. Three years after her father’s arrest for one of the largest embezzlement schemes in history, twenty million dollars is still missing, and the world believes she knows where it is.

Two years after her brother’s death, they still think she killed him.

One year later, she’s still hiding.

When the loneliness is too much, she seeks out strangers for one dark night, no questions asked. She makes up a name, puts on a disguise, and tries to forget.

One night she meets a new man. She tells him her name is Denise, she’s a dental assistant, and she loves dogs. He tells her she’s smart, she’s pretty, she’s funny. Things she hasn’t heard in too long.

Things that are too good to be true…

Excerpt

I enter my dark apartment, the wall of windows providing enough ambient light to see my uninspired, decidedly minimal decor. I drop my purse and press my back to the door, sliding down to the floor. My black skirt rides up my thighs and my legs flop apart, knees rubbery, ankles weak.

I’d like to think I had too much wine, but that’s not true.

Not even after a night of halfway decent sex am I this shaky.

I know what the issue is.

My gaze flickers to my purse the way it would to a ticking time bomb. I fumble with the clasp before retrieving the shiny black room key and turning it over and over in my hand like a magician with no trick.

I yank off the cheap wig. I have a closet full of them, thanks to my brother’s short-lived career in theater management. They’re one of the few items that were returned to us after the raid. At least they came in handy. They help me become Harriet and Isabel and Jess. People nothing like the person I was. And most definitely nothing like the woman I am.

The stranger wouldn’t want this woman. He likes redheads with brown eyes who laugh when they’re not supposed to. My once-bleached hair is back to its natural black, my fingernails haven’t been painted in three years, and I only bother to shave my legs when I have a date. I don’t think the stranger would know what to do with this girl. He could read a million newspaper stories exposing my father’s crimes and hypothesizing about mine and never find the truth.

Liar. Thief. Murderer. Whore.

It’s in there somewhere.

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About the Author

Julianna Keyes is a Canadian writer who has lived on both coasts and several places in between. She’s been skydiving, bungee jumping and white water rafting, but nothing thrills—or terrifies—her as much as the blank page. She loves Chinese food, foreign languages, baseball and television, though not necessarily in that order, and writes sizzling stories with strong characters, plenty of conflict, and lots of making up.

Website:  www.juliannakeyes.com

Twitter:  http://twitter.com/juliannakeyes

Facebook:  www.facebook.com/juliannakeyesauthor

Email:  info@juliannakeyes.com

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Spotlight: Ivory White by Cambria Hebert

Publication date: September 18th 2020
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

Once upon a time…
There is a girl with skin as fair as ivory and hair as black as night.

She was the apple of her father’s eye, but now that he has died, someone wants to dip that apple into poison.

Advised to flee, Ivory escapes her elite world in New York City and stumbles into a place she didn’t know existed.

A modern-day princess, afraid and lost on the dark streets, running for her life.

Ivory White has no one to call, nowhere to turn.

All she has is a random number scrawled on a torn napkin.

She calls. He answers.

Ivory is thrust into a house filled with misfits— a band of completely untrustworthy men.

But can this group of men keep her safe?

Excerpt

She looked like someone who’d just stepped out of a storybook. Nothing about her belonged here in my world. 

Even though her clothes were casual, they were far too upscale for this place. The fabric was delicate and soft just like her limbs and the way she walked. Her round blue eyes scoured every inch of the place as though she had never been anywhere like this before. 

And the hood. The royal-blue hood pulled up over her head was like a cloak, shrouding her in mystery and concealing so much more than just her features. 

When I finally got a glimpse of her creamy white skin, I had to force myself not to react. She didn’t look like anyone from my world either. Not her heart-shaped face, perfectly formed chin, or red-rose lips formed in a bow. A few strands of hair so dark lay against her cheek, and I could only think of black velvet.

That mouth, though. The standoffish, almost haughty way she looked at me, it didn’t really match. Like the storybook she stepped out of had a beautiful cover and artwork, but the interior words were aggressive and messy.

She’s scared. 

It became more and more apparent the longer I sat beside her. She felt backed into a corner, into this bar, which was clearly out of her comfort zone. I understood that. I could even make allowances for her aloof, unfriendly behavior. 

I was interested. Definitely intrigued.

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About the Author

Cambria Hebert is an award winning, bestselling novelist of more than twenty books. She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair. 

Besides writing, Cambria loves a caramel latte, staying up late, sleeping in, and watching movies. She considers math human torture and has an irrational fear of chickens (yes, chickens). You can often find her running on the treadmill (she’d rather be eating a donut), painting her toenails (because she bites her fingernails), or walking her chorkie (the real boss of the house). 

Cambria has written within the young adult and new adult genres, penning many paranormal and contemporary titles. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense. A few of her most recognized titles are: The Hashtag Series, Text, Torch, and Tattoo.

Cambria Hebert owns and operates Cambria Hebert Books, LLC.

You can find out more about Cambria and her titles by visiting her website: http://www.cambriahebert.com.

Email: cambriahebert@rocketmail.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cambriahebertbooks/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/cambriahebert

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/cambriahebert/

Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/cambriahebert/pins/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5298677.Cambria_Hebert

Spotlight: Shopping for a Billionaire’s Baby by Julia Kent

(Shopping for a Billionaire, #13)
Publication date: April 24th 2018
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

Synopsis:

You know what’s even better than marrying a billionaire? Having his baby.

We’re ready. We’ve studied and planned, read all the birth and labor books, researched parenting classes, consulted our schedules, and it’s time.

And by we I mean me.

Declan’s just ready for the “have lots of sex” part. More than ready.

But there’s just one problem: my husband and his brother have this little obsession with competition.

And by little, I mean stupid.

That’s right.

We’re not just about to try to bring a new human being into the world.

We have to do it better, Faster, Stronger.

Harder.

McCormick men don’t just have babies.

They engage in competitive billionaire Babythons.

I thought the hardest part about getting pregnant would be dealing with my grandchild-crazed mother, who will go nuts shopping for a billionaire’s baby.

Wrong.

Between conception issues, my mother’s desire to talk to the baby through a hoo-haw cam, a childbirth class led by a drill sergeant and a father-in-law determined to sign the kid up for prep school before Declan even pulls out, my pregnancy has turned out to be one ordeal after the other.

But it’s nothing — nothing — compared to the actual birth.

Shopping for a Billionaire’s Baby is the newest book in Julia Kent’s New York Times bestselling romantic comedy series.

Only 99¢ for a limited time!

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About the Author

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.

Social Media Links:

Website: http://jkentauthor.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jkentauthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jkentauthor

Newsletter: http://bit.ly/2PIBi9n

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jkentauthor/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-kent

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3238619.Julia_Kent

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Julia-Kent/e/B00A99V268/

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Spotlight: The Orphan of Cemetery Hill by Hester Fox

The dead won’t bother you if you don’t give them permission. Boston, 1844.

Tabby has a peculiar gift: she can communicate with the recently departed. It makes her special, but it also makes her dangerous.As an orphaned child, she fled with her sister, Alice, from their charlatan aunt Bellefonte, who wanted only to exploit Tabby’s gift so she could profit from the recent craze for seances.Now a young woman and tragically separated from Alice, Tabby works with her adopted father, Eli, the kind caretaker of a large Boston cemetery. When a series of macabre grave robberies begins to plague the city, Tabby is ensnared in a deadly plot by the perpetrators, known only as the “Resurrection Men.”In the end, Tabby’s gift will either save both her and the cemetery—or bring about her own destruction.

Excerpt

1

IN WHICH WE MEET OUR YOUNG HEROINE.

Boston, 1844

Tabby’s legs ached and the wind had long since snatched her flimsy bonnet away, but she kept running through the night, her thin leather shoes pounding the cobbled Boston streets. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to get somewhere safe, somewhere away from the bustling theaters and crowds of the city. Every time someone shouted at her to watch where she was going, or ask if she was lost, she was sure that they were one of her aunt and uncle’s friends. Would they drag her kicking and screaming back to Amherst? Tabby shuddered. She wouldn’t go back. She couldn’t. 

Her weary feet carried her up a hill lined with narrow houses, and gradually she left behind the streets choked with theatergoers and artificially brightened with gas lamps. After cresting the hill, she paused just long enough to catch her breath and survey her unfamiliar surroundings. 

It was quieter here, the only sounds the groaning of ships in the harbor and the distant call of a fruit hawker trying to sell off the last of the day’s soft apples. Going back down into the heart of the city wasn’t an option, yet a wrought-iron gate blocked her way any farther, forbidding pikes piercing the night sky. Pale headstones glowed faintly in the moonlight beyond the gate. A cemetery. 

Tabby stood teetering, her heart still pounding. Dry weeds rustled in the thin night breeze, whispering what might have been a welcome, or a warning. Behind her was the land of the living with house windows glowing smugly yellow, the promise of families tucked safe inside. In front of her lay the land of the dead. One of those worlds was as familiar to her as the back of her hand, the other was only a distant fairy tale. Taking a deep breath, she shimmied through the gap in the gate. 

She waded through the overgrown grass and weeds, thorny branches snagging at her thin dimity dress and scratching her. Panic gripped her as she heard the hem tear clean away; what would Aunt Bellefonte say if she found that Tabby had ruined her only frock? Would she smack her across her cheek? Would Uncle lock her in the little cupboard in the eaves? Aunt Bellefonte isn’t here. You’re safe, she reminded herself. As she pulled away to free herself, her foot caught in a tangle of roots in a sunken grave bed and she went sprawling into the dirt. Her lip wobbled and tears threatened to overflow. She was almost twelve years old, yet she felt as small and adrift as the day she’d learned that her parents had perished in a carriage accident and would never step through the front door again.

 This wasn’t how her first day of freedom was supposed to be. Her sister, Alice, had planned their escape from Amherst last week, promising Tabby that they would get a little room in a boarding house in the city. Alice would get a job at a laundry and Tabby would take in mending to contribute to their room and board. They would be their own little family, and they would put behind them the trauma that their aunt and uncle had wrought, making a new life for themselves. That had been the plan, anyway. 

When she and Alice had arrived in the city earlier that day, her older sister had sat her down on the steps of a church and told her to wait while she went and inquired about lodgings. Tabby had dutifully waited for what had felt like hours, but Alice never returned. The September evening had turned dark and cold, and Tabby had resolved to simply wrap her shawl tighter and wait. But then a man with red-rimmed eyes and a foul-smelling old coat had stumbled up the steps, heading right toward her. Tabby had taken one look at him and bolted, sure that he had dark designs on her. She had soon become lost and, in a city jumbled with old churches, hadn’t been able to find the right one again. 

Another thorn snagged her, pricking her finger and drawing blood. She should have taken shelter in the church; at least then she would have a roof over her head. At least then Alice would know where to find her when she came back. If she came back. 

Tabby stopped short. Toward the back of the cemetery, amongst the crooked graves of Revolutionary heroes, stood a row of crypts built into the earth. Most of them were sealed up with iron doors and bolts, but one had a gate that stood just enough ajar for a small, malnourished girl to wriggle through. 

Holding her breath against the damp musk, Tabby plunged inside. Without any sort of light, she had to painstakingly feel her way down the crude stone steps. Lower into the earth she descended until she reached the burial chamber.

 Don’t invite them in. As she groped around in the dark for a resting place, Tabby tried to remember what her mother had always told her. Memories of her mother were few and far between, but her words concerning Tabby’s ability remained as sharp in her mind as words etched with a diamond upon glass. The dead won’t bother you if you don’t give them permission, if you don’t make yourself a willing receptacle for their messages. At least, that was how it was supposed to work. 

The only other thing she had learned regarding her gift was that she should never, ever tell anyone of it, and the lesson had been a hard one. She couldn’t have been more than six, because her parents had still been alive and had sent her out to the orchard to collect the fallen apples for cider. Their neighbor, little Beth Bunn, had been there, picking wild asters, but she hadn’t been alone; there was a little boy Tabby had never seen before, watching the girls with serious eyes from a branch in an apple tree. Tabby had asked Beth who he was, but Beth insisted she didn’t know what Tabby was talking about. Certain that Beth was playing some sort of trick on her, Tabby grew upset and nearly started crying as she described the little boy with blond hair and big green eyes. “Oh,” Beth said, looking at her askance. “Do you mean to say you see Ollie Pickett? He used to live here, but he’s been dead for three years.” That was how Tabby learned that not everyone saw the people she saw around her. A week later she had been playing in the churchyard and noticed that all the other children were clustered at the far end, whispering and pointing at her. “Curious Tabby,” they had called her. And that was how Tabby learned that she could never tell a soul about her strange and frightening ability. 

But even in a place so filled with death, the dead did not bother Tabby that night. With a dirt floor for her bed and the skittering of insects for her lullaby, Tabby pulled her knees up to her chest and allowed the tears she’d held in all day to finally pour out. She was lost, scared, and without her sister, utterly alone in the world.

Excerpted from The Orphan of Cemetery Hill by Hester Fox Copyright © Tess Fedore. Published by Graydon House Books.

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About the Author

Hester Fox is a full-time writer and mother, with a background in museum work and historical archaeology. Most weekends you can find Hester exploring one of the many historic cemeteries in the area, browsing bookshops, or enjoying a seasonal latte while writing at a café. She lives outside of Boston with her husband and their son.

Connect:

Jude Deveraux

Author Website: http://hesterfox.com/

TWITTER: @HesterBFox

Insta: @trotfoxwrite

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17440931.Hester_Fox