Feeling Lost by Diane Burton

From the previous posts, the “Roses” like telling stories about getting lost. I’m the navigator whenever we go anywhere. Give me a map and the Garmin and I can get us anywhere. Except for that one time in the late 1980s when I told Hubs to take the wrong exit off the Beltway in D.C. No Garmin and he wouldn’t let me turn on the overhead light to read the map because the area had deteriorated. Our kids have never let me forget that. Never mind I haven’t gotten us lost again.

You see, I’m a bit of a control freak. (Bet you didn’t know that. LOL) I get very anxious if I don’t know exactly where we are. Hubs likes to go for drives. Since he has a better sense of direction than I do (plus a compass on the dash) it doesn’t bother him to wander. Not me. I know I should trust him. But... I could say I’m from Missouri and you have to Show Me. My mom was. Does that count?

When I began my writing career, I knew exactly where my manuscripts were—which editor or agent had which one, their responses, dates, etc. I even made up a spreadsheet, one for each manuscript, for the information. That all ended when I got an agent. It was a difficult time back then when I was working full time and our mothers were in ill health an hour and a half away. I didn’t have the time and energy to handle the submitting (or writing, for that matter). So I was glad someone else was taking care of that. Or so I thought. When I asked her where the manuscripts I’d sent her were, she evaded, though because she talked so much I didn’t realize until later that she never really answered my questions. Eventually, I ended our relationship. I was fortunate that nothing really bad happened, except stalling my career for four years. I felt totally lost, anxious, and depressed.

When I began writing again and took back handling my career, the anxiety left. I knew where I was. Unfortunately the landscape had changed dramatically. Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Goodreads, blogs and blog hops. I didn’t know what they were, let alone how to use them. Manuscripts weren’t printed out and mailed anymore. Email was the norm. I was always computer literate, ever since Hubs brought home that TRS-80. But now I felt lost again. Thanks to generous people, this old dog learned the new tricks.

Then a writer friend mentioned self-publishing. Wow. I could handle my entire career. Not only did I know where my books were (I’d put them there), I knew exactly how many were sold at any given moment. That’s not to say I'm one of those indie writers who makes tons of money and hit the best seller lists. I'm satisfied to know that I'm in control. I'm lost anymore.

In my latest science fiction romance, my heroine wants to shed her previous life. When given the chance, she’s faced with a dilemma. Getting the career she wants versus doing what is right. Talk about being lost!

Socialite Jileena Winslott has perfected the image of the spoiled, rich, bubble-headed daughter of an industrial magnate. In reality, she’s a smart, savvy aide to her father in social situations where she is his eyes and ears. She yearns to be her true self and run the family business. When her father sends her on a covert mission to the Outer Rim, she has the chance to prove herself. Big problem. He insists she take along a fake fiancé—the man she’s secretly loved for years.

Security Officer Laning Servary has better things to do than babysit a spoiled rich girl on a tour of the Frontier. If he refuses, he can kiss his career good-by. Then Jileena’s father sweetens the pot. If Laning keeps her safe, his family will receive the land they share-crop. He can’t refuse.

In the close quarters of her ship, Laning and Jileena discover they aren’t who they seem. Pirates, weather, and her recklessness threaten to derail the mission. As Laning and Jileena revise their impressions of each other, they’ll have to make hard choices about their goals. Can their budding love survive?

The Chameleon is available at: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, Kobo, Smashwords

I blog here on the 8th and 30th of each month and Mondays on my own site http://dianeburton.blogspot.com

Lost

First, you should know that my husband and I love motorcycles. We rode together for over 80,000 miles until my knees and hips hurt too much. I miss being on the back of our bike. I even miss the times we were lost.

I was always the navigator. I rode in back with a map tucked in the waistband of my jeans. We'd plot a day's course and I'd have to remember a minimum of three highway changes before it was time to stop and walk around to prevent our butts from becoming too numb. We loved the back roads and hated having to ride on the interstates. For us, the journey was the treat. The getting there was secondary.

Most of our riding, therefore, was on what Rand-McNally colors blue highways. These are secondary and tertiary roads in back country. One time, we made a wrong turn. We were riding with another couple who were in the lead. We missed our road and ended up deep in West Virginia on a road that quickly turned to dirt. Not where we wanted to be. We looked for signs for the nearest town. None. We searched for a county route number. None. Do we turn around and try to retrace our steps or continue deeper into the mountains? We'd all seen "Deliverance" and weren't sure if we'd every find our way back to civilization.

At a crossroads of two dirt roads, we stopped and pulled out the maps. None of us could remember the name of the last town we'd passed. The sun was low but it wasn't yet dark when a beaten down pickup climbed the hill from our left. Three weathered guys in the cab. We thought they'd run on past us but they stopped. My husband and his buddy walked over to the truck, map in hand. Much conversation ensued. Much turning of heads down the road the truck had just traveled. Much gesturing of what I guessed were turns.

The truck started up the hill, reversed itself and pointed its nose back the way it came. The universal gesture of follow us had us going downhill into the unknown. The truck made a series of turns, always heading downhill, us on its tail, dust billowing behind. After almost a half hour, although it seemed like a lifetime, we came upon a paved road. The truck pulled over and the passenger hopped out.

Our friend handed him the map. He put a work-hardened finger on a road. With a number. Going in our direction. He and his buddies had taken us through unmarked shortcuts to the road we wanted anyway. My guess is they cut out about 25 miles of dirt road just by knowing the back country. More waving and we were on our way.

The truck went back the way it came. Somewhere out there, I thought I heard "Duelin' Banjoes." Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe it wasn't. Let's leave this story with four people never being so happy to see a billboard for a Holiday Inn "Only 30 miles ahead".

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Betsy Ashton is the author of Mad Max Unintended Consequences available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. The second book in the series, Uncharted Territory, is due out in June 2015.

Lost and Found... and Lost Again by Jena Galifany

Blurb:

            Brian Cummings has come a long way from Leicestershire, England. Miles of hard road lay between then and now – hard road he's kept hidden—until the nightmares began again.
            Diane Starling loves Brian. If she were not carrying his child, she'd still do anything to make him happy—even letting him go to someone else. Who is the woman in his nightly dreams? Why does she make him scream?
           Valerie Leonard, journalist, dredged up history that should remain buried; history that could ruin Brian and hurt the people he loves most. Should Val keep his dangerous past to herself? Doesn't Diane have the right to know the truth about the father of her child?
           Brian and Diane fight to overcome the past, embrace the present, and build a future as they travel with ShadowsForge on THE LONG WAY HOME.

Setting:

            Nineteen year old Brian Cummings had an affair with Mia Radley for three years. She finally sent him a letter saying she had to tell him something important and that she is leaving her husband, Nolan Radley, to be with Brian. An accident claims Mia's life. Before she died, she told her mother, Alison, to give Brian her journal and tell him that her son is actually Brian's son, not Nolan's. Alison brings Brian and Nolan together after the funeral to decide what will be best for young Brian, the son Brian never knew he had. Brian lost Mia but found his son, Brian Joseph Radley, only to lose him.

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             "You two have a nice talk, now." Alison retreated down the hallway as the boy looked at Brian over her shoulder. Brian's heart went with the child. Mia's child. His child.

            "So, Mr. Cummings, we find ourselves in an odd situation. My wife was less than truthful." Nolan lowered himself into a chair before the fire, and crossed his legs in a casual but arrogant, superior manner. Brian wanted to stand but for the sake of civility, he took the second chair.

            "With both of us. Until today, I had no idea." Brian felt uncomfortable. Nolan's eyes seemed to audit Brian's net worth by the value of his suit. "I didn't know what you were talking about at Avery's."

"You've seen him before?"

"Never. Mia talked about him…"

"When?" Nolan raised an eyebrow.

            Brian weighed the consequences of telling Nolan about their meetings over the years. What harm could it do to tell the truth?

"She spoke of him every time she came to town."

            "You met with her each time she was here."

            Brian defiantly looked him in the eyes. He didn't like the way Nolan made statements instead of asking questions. "Each time. Do you want the details?" Brian felt heat rise along his spine.

            "I could probably tell you. You met at some dismal motel somewhere to have a meaningful toss in the sheets. She probably meant more to you than you did to her." He gave Brian a smug look; his blue eyes sparked with arrogance.

            "Meaning?"

            "You were a means to an end. She wanted more children. I refused. She probably hoped to gain another one from you."

            "Odd you never brought it up to her. She feared you'd find out."

            "I'd hoped to gain more sons." He waved a dismissing hand.

            "She said he was named for his father. I assumed his name was Nolan. I called him Joey to save confusion."

            "Joey? Joseph. Brian Joseph." Nolan took a thoughtful sip of his drink. "I thought nothing of the name when she chose it. To be truthful, I didn't care. She trapped me into a marriage neither of us wanted. My family insisted I take the opportunity once it was presented. It worked out well, though, because she gave birth to a boy. If she had produced a girl, I would have seen to the divorce directly."

            Brian blinked. "Having a lover was acceptable but you'd divorce her for having a girl? There's a truly odd sense of morals in your family, Radley. Do you think you're Henry the eighth?"

            Nolan smirked, and gazed through his glass. "You see, there are no heirs in my family. I'm the last of the Radley line."

            "So you get a girl. Not that I would have objected to divorce, but try until you get a son."

            "Not possible. There were certain medical issues when I was a lad which prevent me from siring children."

            Brian narrowed his eyes. "How come you married her?"

            "As I said, my parents saw the opportunity to have an heir to carry on the name. They decreed I should marry and take full responsibility for the child even though we knew it couldn't possibly be my genetic offspring." Nolan drained the glass. He stood as he set it on the table, and faced Brian. Not to be looked down on, Brian rose. "Make no mistake, Mr. Cummings. He is my son and will remain so. You were merely a donor."

            "Did Mia know you're defective?" Brian inwardly smiled at the flinch his barbed remark produced.

            "She knew I'd only make use of her before her trips to visit her mother. She didn't know it was to keep up appearances in case she did conceive again. I wanted her to be unaware that I knew she was meeting with someone. I'd hoped it was someone of better breeding but…" He gave a resigned wave of his hand.

"I could take my son." Brian flexed his hands at his sides. He stood only two or three steps from Nolan; close enough to take him down with one swing.

            "You couldn't afford the legal battle." Nolan eyed Brian's hair and raised one brow. "What do you do for a living, Mr. Cummings?"
            "I'm a musician."

            "How do you intend to care for the boy on your income? Can you provide him a home, food, clothing, everything he needs?"

            "Not at the moment. I'm moving to London where…"

            "Where you'll spend your nights hanging about in pubs? Taverns? Nightclubs? Do you have a woman of your own, a wife? Someone to look after the lad while you're off doing what ever it is musicians do? Oh yes, drink yourself blind, sleep around with jaded women and dream of fame, is it?"

            Brian clenched his teeth, fighting his first instinct. Punching Nolan in the face would alleviate a lot of tension but it wouldn't change the fact Brian had nothing to offer the boy.

            Nolan smiled at Brian's obvious anger. "I am the vice president of an established investment firm. I can give him everything he will ever need or want. Let me tell you what you'll do, Mr. Cummings." He slipped his hand into his jacket. "You will take this," he handed Brian a cheque, "and you will walk out the door and not look back. This will see you on your way to where ever you care to reside. Payment in full for services rendered. Mia neglected to pay you a stud fee."

            Brian read the amount.

            Nolan continued. "This will get you out of Leicester. You may take your fond memories of my loving wife as well if it keeps you warm at night. Just forget about my son."

            "Five thousand pounds locked in a vault is not quite what I need." Brian glowered at Nolan. "Would you have a fifty pound note?"

            Nolan frowned. "You’re a strange sort, Cummings. Is this your way of having the last word?" He pulled the requested amount from his wallet.

            Brian folded it and placed it in his jacket pocket. He curled the cheque in his fist, and lashed out with all of the anger and humiliation he felt. He backhanded Nolan, and sent the man crashing into the chair. Nolan cried out, and held his face, shock-filled eyes locked on Brian.

            Brian stood over Nolan as Alison scurried into the room with the boy in her arms. Brian stabbed a finger at Nolan. "That's my way of having the last word." Brian took the lad in his arms. He hugged him, and kissed him on the forehead before looking him in the eyes.

"Always remember me, Brian. Ask your daddy," Brian tossed a nod toward Nolan, "who I am. Ask him every day of your life until he tells you the truth. Can you do that, son?"

            The child nodded.  His large eyes moved from Brian to Nolan, back to Brian.

            "That's my lad." Brian kissed him again, and handed him to Alison before he stepped in front of Nolan again. He savored the fear in Nolan's eyes. "You will take care of my son. I'll be watching. If anything happens to him, if he wants for anything, I'll come back. I'll keep coming back. I'll shadow you for the rest of your life." Brian looked with disgust at the cheque in his fist before he locked eyes with Nolan. "He's not for sale." He spat the words as he crumpled the cheque completely into a ball and threw it into the fire. "Neither am I."

            Brian grabbed the journal, stalked to the door, and jerked it open. The cold blast of air refreshed him as it cooled his anger. "Alison," he said over his shoulder, "thank you for your hospitality. I'll be in touch. See he takes care of my son."

Ty Synclair with beardless Brian Cummings

            With that, Brian shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked into the night with his shoulders hunched against the cold wind. He would spend his last night in the house. Tomorrow, he would pack what clothes he could into a sports bag, along with the journal and the envelope of pictures. The rest he would leave behind. Fifty pounds would see him to London and hopefully feed him for a few days, until he could hook up with a successful band and get on with his life.

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         In the week leading up to this scene, Brian lost his family, his band, his job, Mia and was arrested on two counts of murder. Then he lost the son he never knew he had. I think this is the most emotional piece I've written for the ShadowsForge series.

        The fourth book in the series, The Long Way Home is the most emotion-filled book, following Brian Cummings from age sixteen to twenty-six. I spent two years writing Brian's story. We spent many nights in tears together.

         "ShadowsForge 4: The Long Way Home is a reader's dream. The tug of emotions I felt while reading of Brian's story is a credit to Ms. Galifany as a writer.

         Ms. Galifany has woven a tale of tragedy and love that is more genuine than any I have read in a long time.  I wasn't expecting such a deeply moving story from a series devoted to a popular British rock band, but ShadowsForge 4: The Long Way Home is just such a story."

    - Sabine Maurier, reviewer for Novelspot.net

Buy The Long Way Home HERE 

Read more excerpts HERE

See the Trailer HERE

Cheers!

Jena