Seven years ago, the man I planned on marrying walked out the door. I crumbled. Literally. For two years, I was broken. It seemed strange. I’d made it through coming out, through a highly religious upbringing, a severely emotionally abusive relationship. I didn’t think anything could break me any more than I’d already been broken. And for sure not just a breakup.
But it did.
I was broken, completely shattered. I’m back together now, but I’m forever changed. It’s noticeable. Something broke in me that is irreversible. Part of me wishes I could get whatever the unnamable portion of my soul is, back. The other part of me, doesn’t. I am who am I now. And I’m stronger than I ever dreamed I’d be. That doesn’t mean I won’t ever break again like I did for those two years. It very well might happen. But maybe that’s the difference. Now I’m always aware that it could happen, that I could shatter. Maybe, just maybe, that will help it not occur?
During those two years, one of my dear friends, who is a flight attendant, put me on as a companion. Which meant that I could fly anywhere in the US for $50 round trip. So I did. I got the hell out of Denver as much I as I could. And I always went to the same place.
I’d only been there, briefly, once before, but, for some reason, Seattle called to me. I lost myself in the city, every time I went. In food, city life, sex, nature. I wouldn’t rent a car, and I would walk the city from the moment I woke to the moment I went back to whatever cheap hotel I could afford for two to three days at a time. Strangely, it barely rained when I visited, which would have suited my mood just fine. I was blogging in a coffee shop (I know, a coffee shop, in Seattle, look at me being cliché. I’m a gay who worships Britney, too. Deal with it.) at the end of those two years when I realized that I gotten to the place where I was intentionally staying broken and a mess. I decided I was done with that. It had served its purpose. I then went and ate at Wild Ginger to cement that decision. Me and food, man. It’s a powerful, deep, and committed relationship we’ve got going on. Seattle healed me. Seattle, and the miles upon miles I walked over its beautiful city streets, changed me.
Son of Money isn’t about a breakup. There’s a romance in it. One of the strongest ones I’ve written (I think). But, there isn’t a ton of angst around the romance. Randall and Noah had already paid the price many relationships require—though you won’t miss out on their love fall, either, I promise.
Son of Money is the story of Randall, fighting to be the man he is, the man he’s chosen to be, the man he’s become. He fights to have the love of Noah, the love of his family, and to retain his own identity.
Seattle was the only option for me when I tried to decide where to base Randall’s story. Seattle healed me. I knew it would him too.
I hope you enjoy the novel!
- Book Title: Son of Money
- Book Series: standalone
- Author: Brandon Witt
- Publisher: Dreamspinner Press, (July 11, 2016)
- Book Length: 284 pages
- Genre: Contemporary, Romance