Sierra High

Cool knows his ultimate destiny is to become a published author. It’s just that the publishers who reject his work don't yet know it. So he first tries his hand at teaching writing, and that’s when his problems begin.

His best student, Gypsy, develops a serious crush on Cool. A transfer student from Scandinavia and a by-product of a broken home and an abusive father, Cool tries to offer Gypsy some adult supervision in her life that seems to be missing. Instead, he wanders off course down that slippery slope of the teacher-student love affair that he knows could get him fired.

After confiding his dilemma to a fellow teaching colleague named, Sierra, she advises Cool to break things off with Gypsy immediately. In the process of trying to help out Cool, instead Sierra falls madly in love with him herself and sets off a competition with Gypsy in a vicious love triangle.

As the relationships between the three of them rise to a crescendo, Cool is forced to make a choice. So, Cool announces his resignation from teaching to run off to Europe and write the great American novel, enrolling Gypsy in college and inviting Sierra to join him on his personal journey. Sierra loves a man willing to risk everything to chase his dream.

Cool and Sierra discover an abandoned farm villa in Portugal where they become “squatters.” Cool finishes a novel and makes the acquaintance of Hillary Shark, an independent publisher. The moment she finishes reading his manuscript she offers Cool a book contract and invites him to London to join her on an extensive book tour to promote his first novel. Of course, the relationship between writer and publisher quickly becomes compromised and complicated, setting off a new love triangle with Sierra waiting in the wings for Cool to regain his senses.

In the end, the book is about the fickleness of fame and fortune. Waiting in the shadows for Cool is the dark underbelly of the publishing industry ready to crush him. That is until Cool finally discovers the perfect poison pill to fight back with and regain his freedom.

SHE STOOD IMMOBILE LIKE a statue in the middle of his living room, hands poised firmly on robust hips, as if like the furniture she belonged and had every reason to be there. Not a twitch of unease about her unannounced presence inside this modest mountain cabin in the woods. Her face was devoid of any expression that might betray her real emotions even at the moment of his discovery.

“How did you manage to break into my cabin?” he demanded, recognizing immediately the sexy high school student from the creative writing class he taught.

“You carelessly left a window open. So please don’t make it sound like I broke in or did something illegal,” she answered, smiling now while chewing suggestively on a long strand of blonde hair that spilled over from her shoulder and wedged into the corner of her mouth. The full head of hair rushed liberally across her shoulder blades and cascaded down her back like a cresting waterfall that would surely pull him under if he dared to get any closer. Utterly flabbergasted, not knowing what else he could possibly say or do, the teacher dropped his briefcase onto the coffee table between them and leaned back furtively on the nearby sofa pillows as if all would be revealed, if only he remained uneasily silent. She quickly interpreted his move of simple submission as an open invitation. She bypassed the table separating them and plopped her round little buns on the sofa so close to him their thighs stuck together like glue. Then, she pivoted her upper body in his direction, leaving him no alternative except to stare transfixed into the deep blue pool of her eyes. Already he felt himself dangerously submerged deep underwater, desperately trying to swim to safety.

Cool was a surprisingly unclaimed bachelor for someone so young and so handsome. He would much rather spend his valuable time publishing novels than trying to get attention-deficit high school students to appreciate fine literature. His well-worn briefcase overflowed with student short stories he was obligated to read over the weekend. He would shower the stories with criticism liberally, scribbling in bold red ink within the margins of their always futile endeavors, and return to class on Monday in a foul mood because of it. However, at least he knew now which short story he would pluck from the pile immediately and read carefully between the lines for any clue to her motives.