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The prodigal son. A second chance. The long kept secret.
I had returned. I hadn’t been here for seven years. I was angry that last summer, and once I got away, I didn’t want to come back. The irony was the career I sought to escape this small town was the very reason I was here. My first movie was a featured film at the Traverse City Film Festival. As an independent film director, my premiere brought me back home. Home. A place I didn’t recognize.
Or maybe home didn’t recognize me?
I had it all in California: a girlfriend who was the daughter of a movie financier, a job that led to connections in the film industry, and a condo overlooking the ocean in Malibu. What I didn’t have was family. I had left them all behind. I was the prodigal son.
The last person I expected to see was her. Britton McKay. She had been my summer love as a teenager. Not just once, but over several summers; until the last one. That was seven years ago. Now, she looked more beautiful than I remembered. Seeing her again flooded me with memories long suppressed. She reminded me of everything I once had and left behind.
Now, she had returned too.
Can lost romance be rekindled?
Can unanswered questions be revealed?
Can I make this place my home again?
L.B. Dunbar reunites you with the Carter and Scott families as all are gathered home.
Your favorite families await with flashbacks, celebration, and heartbreak.
Welcome back to Elk Rapids
Sound Advice (Book One)
Taste Test (Book Two)
Fragrance Free (Book Three)
The Legend of Arturo King
(Legendary Rock Stars Book One)
The Story of Lansing Lotte
(Legendary Rock Stars Book Two)
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About L.B. Dunbar
I’d like to say I was always a writer. I’d also like to say that I wrote every day of my life since a child. That I took the teaching advice I give my former students because writing every day improves your writing. I’d like to say I have my ten-thousand hours that makes me a proficient writer. But I can’t say any of those things. I did dream of writing the “Great American Novel” until one day a friend said: Why does it have to be great? Why can’t it just be good and tell a story?
As a teenager, I wrote your typical love-angst poetry that did occasionally win me an award and honor me with addressing my senior high school class at our Baccalaureate Mass. I didn't keep a journal because I was too afraid my mom would find it in the mattress where I kept my copy of Judy Blume’s Forever that I wasn't allowed to read as a twelve year old.
I can say that books have been my life. I’m a reader. I loved to read the day I discovered “The Three Bears” as a first grader, and ever since then, the written word has been my friend. Books were an escape for me. An adventure to the unknown. A love affair I’d never know. I could be lost for hours in a book.
So why writing now? I had a story to tell. It haunted me from the moment I decided if I just wrote it down it would go away. But it didn't. Three years after writing the first draft, a sign (yes, I believe in them) told me to fix up that draft and work the process to have it published. That’s what I did. But one story let to another, and another, and another. Then a new idea came into my head and a new story line was created.
I was accused (that’s the correct word) of having an overactive imagination as a child, as if that was a bad thing. I've also been accused of having the personality of a Jack Russell terrier, full of energy, unable to relax, and always one step ahead. What can I say other than I have stories to tell and I think you’ll like them. If you don’t, that’s okay. We all have our book boyfriends. We all have our favorites. Whatever you do, though, take time for yourself and read a book.
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