Every town has stories beneath its streets.
Some are buried beneath abandoned mines.
Others beneath baseball fields, family tables, and memories that refuse to disappear.
Bespoke is where I share those stories.
Featured Book
Seven Hills
A novel by Brent Taylor
In the fictional mining town of Jasper, Oklahoma, three childhood friends come of age beneath the shadow of the Seven Hills—towering remnants of a mining boom that brought prosperity to their community while leaving scars that will outlast them all.
Grace Ryan, Percy Walker, and Clay Boyd share a childhood shaped by baseball, friendship, faith, and the rhythms of small-town life. But as they grow older, Jasper begins to change. The mines that once sustained the town have left behind poisoned streams, buried dangers, and questions few people are willing to ask.
When Grace returns home from college, she sees Jasper differently. Her hometown seems to be changing. Percy dreams of becoming a writer and searches for a life beyond Jasper. Clay is deeply faithful to his home and family.
As their paths diverge, each must decide what loyalty means to a hometown that has given them both belonging and loss.
Seven Hills is a story of friendship, memory, courage, and the complicated love we carry for the places that made us.
Books for Sale
Seven Hills will be Available to purchase October 2026
Stories
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Mushroom consomme’ with asparagus dumpling, watermelon radish, baby greens and chili oil…Spring pea & Carrot Salad with shaved rainbow carrot, pickled cucumber, hijiki seaweed, Parmesan, nori cashews & orange-mustard vinaigrette…Alaskan Day Boat Halibut with Chanterelle mushroom, fava beans, cherry tomatoes, quinoa tabbouleh, cinnamon, ginger beer gastrique & smoked fumet…Espresso alongside dessert of whipped chocolate ganache,…
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Having fun in Colorado At 11,000 feet as a cool breeze drifted off the snow and the sweat from our climb dried as we enjoyed breezy and 60 degrees on Saint Mary’s glacier. To my right Karen used a ConocoPhillips vinyl covered blanket to sled the glacier as a young man dived into the mountain…
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“Word” is the shortened form of the phrase: “my word is my bond” which originated with prison inmates and also by my Grandma, who avoided blasphemy by saying,”oh my word”, or “oh my goodness”, which sounds similar to God. Word is equated to God from John Chapter 1. It begins like this. “In the beginning was the Word,…
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I miss the elocution of Yogi Berra. He once said, “The future ain’t what it used to be.” Last night as I watched Draymond Green’s leg fly north like a sledge hammer on wings directly into the fork of Steven Adam’s wickets, I couldn’t help but remember how much better it was in the old…
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When they told me she left on a Sunday I felt less known My Soul less bright Aunt Shirley knew me Like a smile on a spring day Schoolgirl radiance Fragrant and cheerful I was at once young Yet old Understood No longer a child She made me strong And I watched her Grace A…
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“They say golf is like life, but don’t believe them. Golf is more complicated than that.” — Gardner Dickinson, a longtime American tour pro I remember watching Brian’s Song as an eleven year old trying my best not to cry in front of my sister. There is something endearing about the vulnerability of our heroes.…
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Once she realized who Jesus was she shared what she had seen because she had seen beauty. What was this beauty?
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The breadth of the Gospel goes everywhere. It shapes how I treat those on the other side of the political debate. It informs how I spend money, how I live in harmony with my wife, and how I do work. The Gospel is not the ABC’s of Christian faith, it is the A-Z of everything…
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I can envision a time when I stop watching sports, because it’s become self-congratulatory, narcissistic, all-important, and ugly. And then a guy like Buddy comes along and redeems my cynicism and helps me remember the days of my youth when I played sports for no other reason than I loved the thrill of seeing the…
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I was ready to say, “One Provolone With”, which means give me one Pat’s cheesesteak with provolone cheese and fried onions. But I choked. Since the lines at Pat’s King of Steak often stretch out onto Passyunk Avenue, you have to order quickly or risk the disdain of the cashier, not to mention the withering stares…
