"Bellacera, whose first
book, Border Crossings (1999), was a Romance Writers
of America RITA nominee, tackles the subject of older
woman-younger man in her latest contemporary romance. When
40-year-old Leigh O'Fallon discovers proof of her husband's
infidelity, she feels bitterly betrayed. Turning to Erik
Haukeland, the 29-year-old Norwegian exchange student
staying with the O'Fallons, for comfort, Leigh begins a
romantic relationship with Erik that winds up pointing out
to Leigh how empty and unfulfilling her marriage has become.
Forced to choose between her family and Erik, Leigh risks
everything for love and changes her life forever. Bellacera
handles her book's complex subject matter beautifully, and
she writes honestly and realistically about the joys and
sorrows Leigh experiences. Readers will be emotionally
exhausted by the time they reach the book's conclusion, but
they will also be thoroughly satisfied with this
compellingly crafted story." -- John Charles, Booklist
"Bellacera (Border
Crossings) sets this pleasingly melodramatic sudser on
Capitol Hill and the fjords of Norway. domestic scenes between
Leigh and the kids, rendered with casual ease, form a strong
counterpoint to the moral problems Leigh must confront. As for the
core theme how one balances responsibility to family with
responsibility to oneself it should resonate with readers, many of
whom are confronted with the same question on a daily basis. Border
Crossings was a finalist in two categories for the Romance Writers
of America's RITA Award; this new novel is written with similar
assurance." -- Publisher's Weekly
"Carla Bellacera has
written a fabulous relationship drama in which people make bad
decisions for the right reasons, a practice that leads to heartache
for everyone concerned. EAST OF THE SUN, WEST OF THE MOON is
a beautiful love story that will appeal to fans of Belva Plain and
Laura van Wormer." -- Harriet Klausner, The Best Reviews
"This powerful and moving novel
held me enthralled and had me up far too late at night reading just
one more chapter. Once I started reading, I simply couldn't stop
until I'd finished. One moment I was laughing and the next
crying in this highly emotional book. It most definitely is a must
read. I thoroughly enjoyed it and eagerly look forward to Carole
Bellacera's next book." -- Kathy Boswell, The Best Reviews
"Talented author Carole Bellacera
explores a myriad of complex emotions and tough behavioral choices
in her new emotional drama." -- Jill M. Smith, Romantic Times
BookClub
"<It> held me in its grip from
page one...a marvelous cast of characters...Carole Bellacera <is> a
mesmerizing voice in women's mainstream fiction." --Suzanne
Coleman, The Belles and Beaux of Romance.
"A touching, emotional novel which will leave
readers gasping for more. Carole Bellacera succeeds in touching
hearts and souls of her readers with this compelling
story...follows the styles of great authors as LaVryle Spencer
and Jayne Ann Krentz". --Yvonne Hering, ReaderToReader.com
"I found myself holding my breath towards the
end...for readers who would like to make their summer nights
even steamier, pick up a copy of EAST OF THE SUN, WEST OF THE
MOON." --Jani Brooks, Romance Reviews Today
"A dangerous book...I did not stop
until I finished." --Laura Novak, The Romance Journal

Prologue
July 1989
"Mark,
you have truly lost your mind."
Leigh tossed the flyer back to her
nineteen-year-old son.
"You
don't think I have enough to do?
I'm working on deadline to get these illustrations to
Ellen.
Aaron's scout troop sees me so much they're considering me for membership,
and Mel has me running a chauffeur service between here and
the mall.
And now, you
want me to host a Scandinavian exchange student for an entire
year?"
"It would be great for my sociology
class.
Think of what
it could teach me to have a foreign student living with us."
Leigh sighed and turned back to her
drawing table.
"That
argument might wash if we were talking about a student from
Zimbabwae."
She darkened the outline of a plump rabbit
with her charcoal.
"But
Scandinavia isn't much different from America in culture."
Mark ran an exasperated hand through
his thick, dark brown hair.
"Will you at least think about it?
You've always talked about how much you want to go to
Europe.
Having a European in the house would be almost
as good as going there."
"But Mark, a year.
That's a long time to have a stranger living
with us."
"He wouldn't be a stranger for
long.
And if you're
worried about his character, you've got to know what it takes
to be a graduate exchange student.
We're not talking about a slacker here."
"That's not what I'm worried about."
A wry smile flickered on her lips.
"You keep saying 'he?'
Isn't it possible our house guest could be
a girl?"
"That thought did occur
to me."
A teasing
light sparkled in Mark's brown eyes.
"I've read about those hot Swedish ladies."
Leigh leaned back and stretched her
aching muscles.
"Don't
believe it.
I'm sure all the girls in Sweden aren't blue-eyed
blondes with lush bodies."
"Does this mean you'll think about
it?"
Mark wore
a smug look on his face as if he knew he'd already won.
It screamed to be wiped away.
"Your father probably won't go
for it.
You know how
busy he is."
It worked.
The smug look disappeared and frustration replaced it.
"That's just the point.
He's never here.
He's either on the Hill or away on some business trip.
He probably wouldn't notice if you moved in
a whole army of exchange students."
"Don't get smart.
Anyway, we'll still have to discuss it with
him."
Leigh dismissed
him, turning back to her sketch.
"As soon as I get a chance, I'll mention it."
His dark eyebrows lowered.
"You'll probably have to make an appointment
with him."
"I said I'll talk to him.
That's all I can do."
"Thanks, Mom."
He gave her an endearing smile.
Leigh felt her heart melt.
His smile always did that to her--and he knew
it.
With an affectionate
ruffle of her ash-blond hair, Mark left the room.
She sat for a moment staring at her unfinished illustration.
It was for a new juvenile book due out at Christmas.
In another week or two she'd be ready to drop it off
to Ellen.
The illustrations
were for Hydra Kouripoulous' picture book, the last six of which
Leigh had been commissioned to illustrate.
With the publication of each one, her sense of satisfaction
had grown, and even Bob's indulgent attitude towards her "hobby"
didn't diminish the accomplishment she felt.
Her art was a career to her, but somehow, her husband
had never quite accepted that.
Leigh stood up and walked over to the
window seat overlooking the gently rolling hills and knolls
of Northern Virginia.
In
the distance among the tall oak trees, she could see one of
the attractions of the three acres of land they owned, a flowing
brook that meandered through the property and ended with a small
cascading waterfall into a rock-carved pool.
It was one of her favorite places to sit and read or sketch...when
she had the elusive spare moment.
With a sigh, she turned from the window.
No use putting it off any longer.
It was time to put down her pencils and charcoal and
go downstairs to start dinner.
With one last glance at her unfinished sketch,
she descended the winding stairs from the loft studio into the
bedroom and jogged downstairs to the kitchen.
It was a room which, most of the time, filled her with
a delight.
A spacious country kitchen with an island cook-top
and sink.
Plenty of
cabinet space including a corner Lazy Susan and counters of
slate blue Mexican tile to match the flooring.
But today, her beautiful and functional kitchen gave
her no pleasure.
Somehow, Washington's hot humid summers were
not conducive to gourmet cooking, even to the most adventurous
of chefs.
But hungry kids were hungry kids, and
Leigh was determined they wouldn't live off McDonalds' hamburgers
all summer.
As she browned
the ground round for lasagna, the back door swung open.
"Hi, Mom."
Her ten-year-old son, Aaron, stepped
into the kitchen, followed closely by Ivan, the family Golden
Retriever.
"Hi, babe.
Close the door.
You're letting the hot air in."
Aaron acknowledged her command by slamming
the door fiercely, sending a shaft of pain through her skull.
"What's for dinner?"
Leigh glanced at her son.
"What've you been doing?"
Aaron's normally shiny blond hair was
dark with sweat and black grime.
His face and clothing appeared to be covered with the
same gruesome substance.
"Nathan and me were playing war-games
down by the creek,"
he
said, scratching the back of his filthy neck.
"We were killing Arabs."
Leigh grimaced.
Amazing how much he sounded like his father.
"I see."
Just as he was about to take the top off the
cookie canister, she lunged for it.
"No, you don't.
It's too close to dinner."
"Jeez, Mom, I'm starved."
"Tough.
Dinner will be ready in an hour.
Why don't you and Nathan go swimming?
He can stay for dinner."
Aaron's face brightened.
"Okay."
He ran for the back door.
"Get cleaned up first."
Leigh called after him, but he was already gone.
With a sharp bark, Ivan leaped up against the screen
door and watched him go.
After Leigh popped the lasagna into
the oven, she stepped outside to water the peonies planted along
the back of the house.
Like
walking into a sauna, she thought, as the sticky humid air enveloped
her.
At that moment, Melissa appeared with her best friend, Andrea.
With shining blonde hair, the fifteen-year-old girls
were almost carbon-copies of each other, especially since their
wardrobe apparently was interchangeable.
Andrea was wearing a sleeveless red-plaid shirt--the same one Leigh
had bought for Melissa only a few days ago.
"Hi."
Melissa wore the terminal expression of boredom
she'd acquired since turning thirteen.
"We'll be up in my room 'til dinner's ready.
Oh, it is okay if Andi eats with us,
isn't it?"
Leigh smiled
"Sure.
What have... "
The girls turned to go into the house.
"Hey, not so fast.
I haven't seen you all day.
What've you two been up to?"
Andrea grinned sheepishly.
"Oh, you know...hanging out..."
Her reply was drowned out by a shriek that blasted through
the air.
Two wiry bodies
bolted from around the corner of the house and jumped into the
swimming pool with a loud splash.
Melissa shrieked as pellets of chlorinated
water saturated her neat mini-skirt.
She turned furiously to her mother.
"Mom.
Did you see what
that little monster did?"
Leigh laughed.
"What are you, a witch?
Think you're going to melt?"
She twisted her fingers into claws and grimaced.
"I'm mellltting..."
Melissa rolled her eyes.
"Mom, please."
She looked over at her friend.
"You can't take her anywhere."
Leigh grinned and turned back to the
flowers.
"Why don't
you two go for a swim?"
"With those two little brats in
the pool?
Forget it.
Come on, Andi, let's go listen to Guns N'
Roses.
Have you
seen their new video?
It's
so cool..."
Her voice trailed away as she led Andrea into
the house.
Leigh turned off the hose, stood back
and glanced at her watch.
Surely
Bob would be home any minute.
But then, just as she stepped into the house, the phone
rang, and she knew once again they'd be eating without him.