A new romantic adventure that will have you laughing, crying, and wishing you were there!
Clara Herrera is a backpacking blogger traveling WITHOUT A MAP. Ben Murphy is a luxury travel writer who never got directions in how to love. When she wins a competition to join him on a trip to India for Holi, the festival of love, theyâre both forced to confront their tortured pasts and opposing ideas about how to live in the present. Can they navigate their way around the worldâand each other?
A new romantic adventure that will have you laughing, crying, and wishing you were there!
Clara Herrera is a backpacking blogger traveling WITHOUT A MAP. Ben Murphy is a luxury travel writer who never got directions in how to love. When she wins a competition to join him on a trip to India for Holi, the festival of love, theyâre both forced to confront their tortured pasts and opposing ideas about how to live in the present. Can they navigate their way around the worldâand each other?
6 a.m. â Portland, USA
The thump of her face hitting the floor woke Clara instantly. It took a few more seconds before realizing sheâd rolled off the couch. She groaned and pushed up onto all fours.
Damn my head hurts.
Her brain stopped spinning and she peeked at last nightâs plaything lying naked on the couch.
Not again, Clara.
He had an adorable mop of sandy hair and deep dimples, but couldnât have been over twenty-one. The boy-man coughed out a breath stinking of craft beer mixed with seafood chowder. Had she really kissed that mouth? And what was his name? Trent? Todd? It definitely started with a T. Or maybe a B.
Either way, not one of my better decisions.
Sitting on the balls of her feet, Clara rubbed sleep from her eyes and ran fingers through her black, waist-length hair. She fought through the hangover haze to remember whatâd happened. The bar hopping session had been Pilarâs idea. Her cousin let her stay over this past week while in town for their five-year college reunion and promised cute guys. Not that you could trust them, in general or in bed. Sex with T or B here hadnât been at all satisfying, she knew that much.
So why do you keep doing this to yourself?
Clara slid her tongue across her teeth to remove the fuzz, thinking how she needed to give them a good scrub, take a long shower, and just more generally get her shit together. Maybe then she would find a man who could actually fulfill her needs. If such a thing existedâŚ
Spotting her bra and panties bunched under the couch, she pulled them on with a sigh and climbed slowly to her feet. Her cousinâs apartment was a shoebox, covered with thrift shop rugs, furniture collected from sidewalks and dozens of candles. Claraâs mind flashed back to when she used to own stuffâa whole McMansion with five bedrooms, three living rooms, a quarter-million dollar kitchen and two matching BMWs. Well, sheâd never really owned it, had she? Not even a cent of it, according to the divorce lawyers. Honestly, she couldnât imagine wanting to have so much crap ever again. All itâd done was weigh her down.
Now everything Clara possessed in the whole world fit into the red sixty-five liter backpack in the corner of Pilarâs apartment. There wasnât room, or need, for anything else. Besides, she loved that backpack: stained, bruised, scarred, but still running against the windâjust like her.
Clara stumbled over and picked up a summery yellow dress spilling out its top. The dress had a wine stain near the hem and smelled like it could use a soak, but there werenât any cleaner options. She slipped it on before spotting her passport on the floor, flashing like a siren.
Oh shit.
What time is it?
Why is there sunlight?
I was meant to leave already!
Clara was sure sheâd set an alarm for 5 a.m. She dug her phone out of a canvas shoulder bag sheâd bought from a market in Nepal a few months ago. It was dead. The phone had been on the blink since hiking up into the Himalayas where the cold had ruined the battery and she didnât have money to splash on a new one.
âNo, no, no.â
A tsunami of dread crashed into Clara, followed by waves of sweaty panic. She sprang toward a vintage clock on the wall, stubbing her toe on the way.
âOuch!â
She stuck both hands on the wall to stay upright. Reading analog time hadnât been a problem when she was a kid but now in the digital age plus a migraine and side dish of regret, it was freaking hard.
The little hand is at theâŚfour, five, six. The big hand is at theâŚtwelve.
Twelve-o-six?
No, other way round⌠Six oâclock!
Clara spun on a dime. The boy-man was still passed out on the couch. Her backpack was still unpacked in the corner. And she was supposed to be in transit already.
With the sudden clarity a deadline brings, Clara ran to Pilarâs bedroom and threw open the door. It crashed against the wall. Her cousin shot up in bed like a jack-in-the-box.
âIntruder!â Pilar yelled.
âWhat? No, itâs me, you pokpok. Get up. We have to go!â
Pilar pushed up her sleeping mask and squinted. âWhere are we going?â
âThe airport.â
Pilar flopped back onto her pillow. âIâm sleeping.â
Clara jumped on the bed, straddling her cousin and shaking her shoulders. âMy plane leaves in three hours.â
âThatâs plenty of time.â
âFrom Seattle.â
Pilar tilted her head as if calculating the time it would take to get there from Portland in morning traffic. âYouâre too late.â
âNo! I canât be too late.â The scale of the catastrophe continued to unfold in Claraâs head. âDonât you remember? The competition I won. Meet a travel writer. Fly to India for Holi. Stay at a five-star resort.â
âYou hate resorts.â
âBut itâs free.â
Pilar exhaled and her lips fluttered loudly. âFine.â
âSalamat mahal ko.â Clara thanked her cousin in Filipino and kissed her all over the face like a puppy dog.
âAah, stop it.â
âOK letâs go! We gotta hurry. And we gotta get rid of the guy on your couch.â
As a travel blogger, Clara is determined to see every part of the world and connect with the people. She wants to experience the unique cultures and get a sense of their lives. Ben on the other hand may write about the places he travels to, but he doesnât leave the walls of the luxury resorts he reviews.
When Clara wins a trip to India, she is forced to travel with Ben. But itâs not long before she escapes the luxurious resort to experience the ârealâ India. Ben is horrified that she would even think of doing such a thing. Until fate would have it that they meet up again in Sri Lanka and Clara is determined to get Ben out of his shell and truly experience the world and everything it has to offer. In the process of doing so, it becomes obvious that they share an undeniable connection. Suddenly theyâre both trying to navigate more than just the world together.
I thoroughly enjoyed Without a Map. I loved Benâs quirkiness and Claraâs free spirit. While Clara could have easily been discouraged and frustrated by Benâs rigidness, she learned to embrace it and knew just how to bring Ben out of his shell little by little. And while Ben could have remained stubborn and reluctant, he saw the good in Clara and learned to follow her direction.
I really appreciated the cultural aspects to this story as well. Having never traveled to those parts of the world, I became immersed in the cultures and the people.
I did, however, think that Benâs grand gesture was just a little too grand and unrealistic given the events that were unfolding. But nonetheless, he certainly succeeded in showing just how far he had come in the short time since he had met Clara.
Overall, this was a fun, yet educational read. It had the elements of a light romantic comedy, but provides an immersive experience of different people and cultures in parts of the world I havenât experienced myself.