Copyright © 2012, Karen Wiesner
Published by Whiskey Creek Press LLC

Reviews For LOSSES AND GAINS [COWBOY FEVER SERIES BOOK 2] by Karen Wiesner

4 Stars! “The reader will get to know a lot about Janaya and her life, and how it had disappointed her so much. I found this to be a love story that grows out of desperation and hurt from a great loss. Lance has to leave the hurt inside him and let love grow instead. Janaya acts as his hope later and readers can gain a lot from reading it.”
~LoveRomancePassion.com http://www.loveromancepassion.com/review-losses-and-gains-cowboy-fever-book-2-by-karen-wiesner/

“‘It was love, love, love at first shock,’” Janaya Gaines crooned under her breath even after the recording crew dismissed her, saying thank you, they’d gotten what they needed for the radio commercial, and the check was in her hand. She gathered her coat and oversized sunflower bag and put on her wool fisherman’s cap before heading out of the studio. When the words of the ridiculous song she’d just sung over and over went around in her head once more, she absorbed them for the first time. Love at first shock? I’m singing a love song about some energy drink. Can my life stink much worse?

Janaya grimaced as she looked at the check once more, conceding that, stupid as the gig had been, she could pay her rent this month with her earnings. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

Maybe.

Yet she couldn’t shake the heavy sensation that she’d sunk to an all-time low. Fifteen years ago, she’d come to Nashville in the hopes of getting a recording contract and becoming a famous country music artist. Most months, she scored gigs through word of mouth for radio and TV ads and commercials and made a decent enough living—at least enough to support the nightclub gigs that paid almost nothing but made her feel at least worthwhile in her singing endeavors.

Shaking her head, Janaya pushed the check into the back pocket of her jeans, then slipped into her black wool coat. Retrieving her tote bag once more, she started down the hall toward the elevator that would take her to an exit. A thought floated into her head that’d been coming to her often lately. This isn’t the life I envisioned for myself. Singing for the love of energy drinks is most certainly not a personal goal, but even then, I’m not living my dream despite the fact that I get a couple singing gigs a month. All I wanted in the world was to get married, have kids and settle down on a patch of land that I could call my own. I wanted to be a ranch hand’s wife. Lance Olsen’s… I wasn’t the one who wanted to come to Nashville and make it big. No, that was Colleen. My big sister—two years older than me—wanted to follow in the footsteps of Gran as a Country Western singer, although Gran only made it as a back-up singer. Yet Colleen married the cowboy, my Lance, settled down and had kids. How ironic that our dreams traded places.

Her face warm, Janaya turned the corner that led to the elevator and a man came into view. A man who seemed familiar to her with his shoulder-length, loose, silky brown hair and a closely trimmed moustache and goatee. He was tall and muscular and wore an expression of utter concentration. Lance? Has Lance finally forgiven me and come to take me home?

Janaya was so stunned, her bag slipped from her hand and the things inside it exploded onto the floor in every direction. Shocked at her own clumsiness, she got down on her hands and knees to gather her possessions. The gorgeous guy appeared in front of her in an instant, his designer cowboy boots in her line of sight the whole time. Then he was crouching in front of her, helping her gather her items. “Let me help you, darlin’.”

Helplessly, her gaze met his and his grin was all charm. There was no doubt that this cowboy knock-off was cute, very cute, but he wasn’t Lance Olsen. Up close, he was nothing like him.

When he handed her the last tube of lipstick and her bag was repacked, she murmured, “Thanks.”

“ My pleasure, honey.” He held out his hand. “Hank.”

“ Janaya,” she told him as they shook.

“ Makin’ an album?”

Smiling, she shook her head. “Commercial jingle.”

“ Yeah. Me, too.”

She offered him another awkward smile. “Well, thanks again for your help.”

“ Not a problem, darlin’. But if you really wanna thank me, I’d love to get your number, Janaya.”

There was no good way of getting out of it, and he was the cutest guy she’d met in a long while. She rooted in her bag for a scrap of paper, but when she turned over the first thing she pulled out to make sure it was nothing important, she saw a photograph of Lance and Colleen and their young son Gavin. How on earth had that gotten unearthed from the deepest, darkest corner of her tote? Shaking her head, she reached into her bag again and found something else to write on. With a friendly grin, Hank handed her a pen. She jotted her number down for him. While she handed the scrap to him with the shiny silver writing instrument, she knew she wouldn’t answer even if he did call.

Saying he would be late and planned to give her a buzz later, he hurried past her. Janaya sighed. Again, she made her way toward the elevator and then the line of doors to the outside. Once on the sidewalk, her fingers closed over the photo and she brought it out once more to see the beautiful face of her only sister, her nemesis. The face filled her vision and her memory. I never had a chance. I was destined to live in your shadow…because you wouldn’t have had it any other way, sis.

Colleen had been gone four years now, taken in a fire that consumed most of the Triple Aces Ranch, taken along with the life of little Gavin. Despite the tragedy, Janaya had realized all those years ago that if she’d gone home permanently, she still would have resented all Colleen had stolen from her.

Not wanting to live her life filled with grudges, she’d left home at the age of eighteen and stayed away, returning only for a brief moment when her parents had told her about her sister’s death. After she’d left, she’d been afraid to go back for longer than that in and out jaunt for the funeral. Afraid there was still nothing there for her. But maybe now it’s time. Time to start living my dream instead of Colleen’s. Time to make amends for the past.

Janaya emerged from the recessed alcove of doors in front of the recording studio into the cold sunshine of the early February morning and threaded her way through other pedestrians until she got to the bus stop. She waited, boarded the bus, and rode to her apartment across the city wondering why. Why she stayed here, far from home, in a place she wasn’t even crazy about living in. Unlike her grandmother, the backup singer of a Country Western artist who’d enjoyed major success, Janaya wasn’t cut out for life in the big city, supporting someone else’s dream. What’s keeping me here? An okay, nothing-special career that barely keeps food on the table, partially doing what I love with singing. A string of dates that I can never get serious about. A nice apartment, stylish clothes, good friends in my neighbors on either side, Byron and Alyssa. But, at the end of the day, what’s keeping me here?

Absolutely nothing.

Once off the bus, Janaya walked a couple blocks to her apartment building, where she let herself in, got her mail, and headed up the cavernous stairwell to her place. Her mind served up another helping of unwilling realization. She’d chosen to try to become a famous singer because it was the one dream Colleen had always claimed to want but had never bothered trying to pursue. As a teenager, Colleen had never wanted to settle down. She’d wanted to go out and live an exciting life anywhere but the Texas Panhandle, anywhere but on a dirty, dusty ranch. Yet, in the end, the two sisters had exchanged dreams. And here I am. But I haven’t changed in all this time.

Janaya unlocked the door of her apartment and Byron Aldrich’s door opened beside hers. “How’d it go?” he asked, looking picture perfect in fashionable clothes, every hair on his head and clean-shaven face in place.

“ I got paid. How about you?”

Byron was a freelance makeup artist and pretty much lived his life the same way she did—job to job.

“ They asked me to come back tomorrow.”

Janaya smiled, stepping inside her apartment and leaving the door open for him to follow. “Then you must have done well.” She dropped her bag on a chair, then hung up her coat and hat on the tree near the door.

While her best friend had started his career as a model—metrosexual male models did surprisingly well these days—he’d grown disillusioned with the instability of such a life. Janaya couldn’t see that a freelance makeup artist did much better in that regard, but Byron seemed much happier in the years since he’d switched careers.

As if reading each other’s minds, Byron started filling the teapot with water while she took down bright orange mugs and popped in chai teabags.

“ Alyssa back from her job yet?” Janaya asked of their modeling neighbor.

Byron shook his head. He’d opened a bag of apple cinnamon rice cakes and offered her one. Janaya took it, not particularly enjoying the pitifully dry snack, though she polished it off in a minute. In that time, the tea kettle whistled and she poured hot water into each mug. Byron picked one up, then she followed him, his movements sheer grace, into her sparse living room.

She’d never been able to stand the slightest clutter and so she’d refrained from doing much by way of decorating her apartment. The minimal living room furniture options were mostly bare and had been dusted just the day before. Often she wondered, if her family ever came here, what they would think. Her apartment barely looked lived in. She owned so few possessions. She could pick up and leave here within a day or two, if she really wanted to. Would they think that was her intention? Should she do more with her home?

Instead of choosing one of the inexpensive, functional chairs, she and Byron sat down together on the wide, padded window seat before the immense window that dominated her small, bright apartment. Sunlight streamed over them, negating the chill of the day. “I’ve been thinking, Byron.”

Mildly interested, he looked at her with green-flecked hazel eyes, blowing on his tea. “About?”

“ Going home.”

“ Home?” he asked in surprise, his eyes opening wider. He lowered his mug. “As in Texas?”

She nodded. Was the idea crazy? She supposed her best friend might think so. She’d gone out of her way to make it clear to her friends that she’d left home permanently. Neither Byron nor Alyssa had been surprised when she went home for her sister and nephew’s funeral—and returned the very next day.

“ For good?” Byron asked, now much more interested.

She shook her head, yet said, “Maybe. I’m not sure. I think it might be good for me to go home.”

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