Stalk the Moon

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āŠĩāŠŋāŠļāŦāŠĪāŦƒāŠĪ
āŠŠāŠūāŠĪāŦāŠ°
āŠ°āŦ‡āŠŸāŠŋāŠ‚āŠ— āŠ…āŠĻāŦ‡ āŠ°āŠŋāŠĩāŦāŠŊāŦ‚ āŠšāŠ•āŠūāŠļāŦ‡āŠēāŠū āŠĻāŠĨāŦ€Â āŠĩāŠ§āŦ āŠœāŠūāŠĢāŦ‹
9 āŠŪāŠŋāŠĻāŠŋāŠŸāŠĻāŦ‹ āŠĻāŠŪāŦ‚āŠĻāŦ‹ āŠœāŦ‹āŠˆāŠ āŠ›āŦ‡? āŠ‘āŠŦāŠēāŠūāŠ‡āŠĻ āŠđāŦ‹, āŠĪāŦāŠŊāŠūāŠ°āŦ‡ āŠŠāŠĢ āŠ—āŠŪāŦ‡ āŠĪāŦāŠŊāŠūāŠ°āŦ‡ āŠļāŠūāŠ‚āŠ­āŠģāŦ‹. 
āŠ‰āŠŪāŦ‡āŠ°āŦ‹

āŠ† āŠ‘āŠĄāŠŋāŠŊāŦ‹āŠŽāŦāŠ• āŠĩāŠŋāŠķāŦ‡

A modern retelling of the myth of Artemis and Orion—with a few twists!

She doesn't know she's Artemis, mythical huntress and goddess of the moon—but he does. And that's all he needs to make sure he gets his happy ending this time. Except he's expecting the Artemis he remembers. Who he gets instead is—

Noelle

With a potty mouth and a Jersey attitude, I've never been the type of girl who cries when things don't go my way. I'm no damsel in distress. Whatever life throws at me, I can handle it. No matter how rough or tough or... weird?

Because falling through a full-length mirror and ending up in a forest wearing nothing but a nightgown is definitely weird. Stabbing a giant scorpion in the eye with a stick? Yup. Weird. Discovering I'm a whiz with a bow and that I can apparently communicate with animals like some grouchy Disney princess—okay, not gonna lie. That's kind of cool.

Being told that I'm supposedly the reincarnation of the Greek goddess Artemis? Super friggin' weird. How am I supposed to believe that? Or that some gorgeous hunk of a guy insists we're meant to be together?

I mean, I might not know a lot about mythology, but wasn't Artemis some kind of virgin?

Hunter

She's back.

After all this time, after all this waiting, she's back in my reach and nothing is going to keep me from changing the way this story ends.

Not the tragedy of our shared history, or the countless times I've already died. Not the fact that her brother has proven repeatedly that he will stop at nothing to keep us separated.

Not even the undeniable truth that Artemis doesn't remember me—or even herself.

She's back. And, this time, she's mine.

āŠ† āŠ‘āŠĄāŠŋāŠŊāŦ‹āŠŽāŦāŠ•āŠĻāŦ‡ āŠ°āŦ‡āŠŸāŠŋāŠ‚āŠ— āŠ†āŠŠāŦ‹

āŠĪāŠŪāŦ‡ āŠķāŦāŠ‚ āŠĩāŠŋāŠšāŠūāŠ°āŦ‹ āŠ›āŦ‹ āŠ…āŠŪāŠĻāŦ‡ āŠœāŠĢāŠūāŠĩāŦ‹.

āŠļāŠūāŠ‚āŠ­āŠģāŠĩāŠū āŠĩāŠŋāŠķāŦ‡āŠĻāŦ€ āŠŪāŠūāŠđāŠŋāŠĪāŦ€

āŠļāŦāŠŪāŠūāŠ°āŦāŠŸāŠŦāŦ‹āŠĻ āŠ…āŠĻāŦ‡ āŠŸāŦ…āŠŽāŦāŠēāŦ‡āŠŸ
Android āŠ…āŠĻāŦ‡ iPad/iPhone āŠŪāŠūāŠŸāŦ‡ Google Play Books āŠāŠŠ āŠ‡āŠĻāŦāŠļāŦāŠŸāŦ‰āŠē āŠ•āŠ°āŦ‹. āŠĪāŦ‡ āŠĪāŠŪāŠūāŠ°āŠū āŠāŠ•āŠūāŠ‰āŠĻāŦāŠŸ āŠļāŠūāŠĨāŦ‡ āŠ‘āŠŸāŦ‹āŠŪāŦ…āŠŸāŠŋāŠ• āŠ°āŦ€āŠĪāŦ‡ āŠļāŠŋāŠ‚āŠ• āŠĨāŠūāŠŊ āŠ›āŦ‡ āŠ…āŠĻāŦ‡ āŠĪāŠŪāŠĻāŦ‡ āŠœāŦāŠŊāŠūāŠ‚ āŠŠāŠĢ āŠđāŦ‹ āŠĪāŦāŠŊāŠūāŠ‚ āŠĪāŠŪāŠĻāŦ‡ āŠ‘āŠĻāŠēāŠūāŠ‡āŠĻ āŠ…āŠĨāŠĩāŠū āŠ‘āŠŦāŠēāŠūāŠ‡āŠĻ āŠĩāŠūāŠ‚āŠšāŠĩāŠūāŠĻāŦ€ āŠŪāŠ‚āŠœāŦ‚āŠ°āŦ€ āŠ†āŠŠāŦ‡ āŠ›āŦ‡.
āŠēāŦ…āŠŠāŠŸāŦ‰āŠŠ āŠ…āŠĻāŦ‡ āŠ•āŠŪāŦāŠŠāŦāŠŊāŦāŠŸāŠ°
āŠĪāŠŪāŦ‡ āŠĪāŠŪāŠūāŠ° āŠ•āŠŪāŦāŠŠāŦāŠŊāŦāŠŸāŠ°āŠĻāŠū āŠĩāŦ‡āŠŽ āŠŽāŦāŠ°āŠūāŠ‰āŠāŠ°āŠĻāŦ‹ āŠ‰āŠŠāŠŊāŦ‹āŠ— āŠ•āŠ°āŦ€āŠĻāŦ‡ Google Play āŠŠāŠ° āŠ–āŠ°āŦ€āŠĶāŦ‡āŠēāŦ€ āŠŠāŦāŠļāŦāŠĪāŠ•āŦ‹āŠĻāŦ‡ āŠĩāŠūāŠ‚āŠšāŦ€ āŠķāŠ•āŦ‹ āŠ›āŦ‹.

āŠļāŦ€āŠ°āŠŋāŠ āŠšāŠūāŠēāŦ āŠ°āŠūāŠ–āŦ‹

Jessica Lynch āŠĶāŦāŠĩāŠūāŠ°āŠū āŠĩāŠ§āŦ

āŠļāŠŪāŠūāŠĻ āŠ‘āŠĄāŠŋāŠ“āŠŽāŦāŠ•