Who Is The Author Of 'The Boy Who Flew Too Near The Sun'?

The day my parents divorced, the rain wouldn’t stop. Two agreements sat on the table. One meant staying in the old Eastwood District with my gambling-addicted father, Alexander Clark, drowning in debt. The other meant leaving for Silverstrand Coast with my mother, Charlotte Hayes, who was remarrying into wealth. In my last life, my younger brother, Mathias Clark, cried and clung to Mom while I quietly packed my things and chose to stay with Dad. Later, he quit gambling and struck it rich during a redevelopment boom. He poured everything into raising me right. Meanwhile, Mathias was trapped in his stepfather’s house—isolated, controlled, never allowed outside—until depression took his life. But this time, everything changed. Mathias snatched the cigarette from Dad’s hand and hugged him tightly, refusing to let go. "Tyler, I feel bad for Dad. You go enjoy the good life over there. I’ll stay and take care of him for you." Dad froze for a moment, then smiled with relief and patted his shoulder. I said nothing. I simply picked up the train ticket to the coast. What he didn’t know was that… In my last life, the reason Dad was able to quit gambling was because I had a brain tumor. I worked myself to the brink of coughing up blood just to repay his debts. I traded my life… for his redemption.

I watched Ryan die. So how is Ben wearing his face? Six years ago, I watched my best friend--and secret crush--splatter all over the pavement. He died. I saw him. Yet, in the back of my mind, I've never stopped looking for him. Seeing him in crowds, in the classroom, in my dreams--and my nightmares. It's cost me everything--my identity, my sanity, and maybe my life. So when I walk into class to see a man who looks exactly like Ryan standing before me, I freak out again. My therapist tells me to stay away from Ben. He's no good for me. I'll end up back in a padded room. But I have to know the truth. Is Ben really Ryan? That's not possible. But Ben has scars--real ones and metaphorical ones. If Ben is Ryan, why doesn't he just tell me? Is he trying to drive me crazy? Or worse--is he trying to kill me? The Boy Who Died is the first romantic suspense novel from bestselling romantacy author Bella Moondragon writing as B. Moon. If you love romantic suspense, are a fan of Colleen Hoover, Gillian Flynn, Christopher Greyson, or Paula Hawkins, you won't want to miss this page-turner!

One night a young boy unable to cultivate falls into a cave and changes his destiny forever. Orphaned, unable to cultivate, ridiculed by all, the boy who fought with bones has a bone to pick with all those who wronged him and a mystery to uncover.

While packing Ethan's flight bag, I found a custom solo wings pin. The engraving on the back read: For Lark, to celebrate your first solo. Beneath the box sat the receipt for Skyler's flight school tuition, paid in full by Ethan, along with a photograph. In the photo, she was sitting in the pilot's seat. Ethan's gloved hand rested over hers on the control yoke. Seven years ago, I had sat in that same seat. Back then, I was one step away from my first solo flight, but Ethan talked me out of it again and again, always claiming it was "for my own good." He said flying was dangerous, that someone had to stay home and take care of things. I put down my logbook, pressed the wrinkles out of every one of his captain's uniforms, and spent seven years living by his flight schedule. Only now did I finally understand. It wasn't that he didn't want to take anyone flying. He just didn't want to take me. What made it even more absurd was that the night Skyler first flew through the clouds, I was alone in a hospital, losing our baby. I called him over a dozen times. At three in the morning, he finally called back, his voice flat and indifferent. "I just took Lark through the clouds. Next time something comes up, give me a heads-up." I put the wings pin back exactly where I found it, then pulled the crumpled ultrasound printout from the bottom of the drawer and tucked it inside the logbook that had been gathering dust for seven years. This time, I wasn't going to wait for him to look back. He convinced me to leave the pilot's seat, then turned around and put another woman in the sky. So I would leave him and take back the sky that had always been mine.

One photo. Two golden boys. A truth that could destroy everything they've built. Everyone thinks they know me - Perfect grades, perfect girlfriend, student council, perfect future. But it's all a lie to hide who I really am. Until my past caught up with me. Until Chris Moore turns up at summer camp and appears in school on the first day. Until a photo was pinned on my locker on the first day of school — a photo of me staring at Chris across the summer bonfire. And an anonymous note: “I know who you are looking at.” Now my lies are crumbling. The perfect life I built is cracking. And I can't keep pretending. With Chris back in my life, the feelings I buried for two years refuse to stay hidden. Someone is watching. Someone knows my secret. And if the truth comes out, I don't just lose my perfect life. I lose everything.

After being missing for eighteen years, I was finally found by my wealthy birth parents. The impostor—the young man who had taken my place all this time—dropped to his knees, sobbing. "Goodbye, Mom and Dad. Thank you for raising me. Now that Jason is back, this family doesn't need me anymore." My parents hugged him with heartbreaking tenderness. "Don't be ridiculous," they said. "You're our only real son." Even my fiancée confessed her love to him. "I don't care who you really are. You're the only one I love." They all orbited around him, like planets around the sun. When I was nearly killed in a car accident, they were too busy throwing a birthday party for his dog. So I packed my things in silence. Without a word, I accepted an invitation from the space agency to join a five-year satellite research mission in complete isolation. Yet after I left, it was like the whole family lost their minds. They scoured the entire country, desperate to find any trace of me.