A hometown boy with incredible promise is forced to put his life on hold until an opportunity unlooked for arises. A game, along with a fairytale like romance, reminds him that there is still something worth caring about.

Will his tireless work ethic burn out his mind and body before he has the chnace to choose what course to follow, or was the course always set, giving him no potion at all… which might just be what he fears the most.

Targeted Age Group:: 18+

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?

Victim of an always active imagination, I wrote the story that I myself wanted to read. While there are some parallels in my life, I didn't write this as a "what if things were different" type of plot for me. If anything, it is as real a look into my conscious as I've ever shared as well as a love letter to what could have been.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?

I write what I know. I know small business and small towns, college basketball, and college relationships. That being said, the characters created their own identities the more I wrote. The character Riley, was easier to put into the story as there are many shared traits. The love interest Denara, combined a coulpe of people who were quite important to me at different points in life. All the other supporting cast are inspired by real life people in one way or another which makes them relatable to each reader in their own ways.

Book Sample

The dress for the day was boringly normal, just a t-shirt, blue jeans, and boots. He used to dress much nicer, more professional, by most standards but found a lack of respect from his crew for their “college boy” boss that had never worked in the field as far as they knew. The truth was he probably had as much if not more time with a paintbrush and roller in his hands as the guys twice his age, but they didn’t know that.

He opened the car door, tossed his backpack on the passenger side seat, sat down, closed his eyes, and sighed before starting the car and backing out of his parking space.

The tires spun on the uneven surface but grabbed quickly as he feathered off, then rolled his foot back onto the gas pedal. He was going way faster than the posted speed limit already. Actually, Riley King couldn’t even remember what the speed limit on this road was. Hell, he didn’t even remember the name of the road that he had driven on at least a thousand times before.

An old wood and brick house with a metal garage came into view. It was the house his buddy in middle school had grown up in. There was the treehouse, and even the old bike ramp they had dug and shaped with shovels was still there, now overgrown with weeds. The sight was lost in a blur as he sped by. The next curve on the road Riley knew from experience was gradual until you realized you had gone in too fast and it suddenly cut left. It was where Tom’s girlfriend had rolled her truck that one night before their senior year. That was a bad night.

Riley lifted his foot but didn’t brake or downshift. The high-performance Mercedes engine and its gearing would bring the speed back into a zone that he knew he could handle and maneuver through the turn without the tires even coming close to losing traction again or squealing in protest… unless he wanted them to.

Like his family, most all of his friends were gone now, having moved on or moved away from the small country place where they had lived and grown up. It wasn’t quite a one-horse town, but it was damn near close enough that most people got out as soon as they could and never looked back. The days of living in the same town you grew up in had passed by a generation or two ago. Not for Riley King though. He had a big mind but was a country boy at heart. He didn't have to be, it wasn't like it was bred into him by coming from a long line of farmers or something, but his parents had made a nice living for themselves by buying into and eventually becoming the sole owners of a small, yet very well reputed commercial paint company out off the freeway. His father had worked his butt off, probably too hard, to make King’s Commercial Painting a very lucrative and valuable business.

The freeway. Most people in the small town of Cheney Washington only saw it as a lifeline to get them to a real city, Spokane. Although most of them complained about how Spokane was no Seattle or Portland or San Francisco. Hell, most people couldn't place Spokane, let alone Cheney, on a map. Most everyone thought that if it was a town in Washington, it must be close to Seattle, right? Cheney wasn’t your stereotypical college town, instead, it was merely a town with a college in it. A distinction which equated huge differences.

The town itself was a ten minute drive away from Spokane, which meant that was where the shopping, eating, and everything else was. Cheney wasn’t isolated enough to contain their college residents. Most people only drove there to attend classes, then back to Spokane where they lived, worked, and played. Nothing lasted in the little non-farm town that wasn’t already there. Trains and bars, the rest were just revolving businesses that occupied the same buildings one after the next. Developers came through with great plans and visions, spent some money, lost it all, then moved on, leaving only the longtime residents like Riley in their abandoning wake.

The Mercedes SLS roadster roared more than sang as Riley pulled it out of the turn and rolled his foot hard to the floor. It was a rare and way too nice of a car – read: expensive – to be found in even one of the bigger towns on this side of the state… or the country for that matter. His father had been a car guy, a speed guru, and had very good taste in vehicles. Over the years he had amassed a small collection, but none as ridiculously over the top as the 570 horsepower SLS. It had cost an absolute fortune, but as a future retirement present to himself, he had justified it when a killer deal fell into his lap. Any roadster was not a very practical thing in this area. Impractical, and not as safe as was probably necessary with the four full seasons of weather, plus random animals and other wildlife constantly crossing the roads, not to mention other drivers who were not used to caring about nice things. In many ways it was a good thing it had been the Land Rover and not the Mercedes they had been traveling in that night, Riley thought. Not that the outcome would have been any different in the end.

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