A novel about friendship, buried secrets, and the price of uncovering the truth.
Welcome
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. What once seemed permanent is disappearing, and the truths hidden beneath the town’s familiar landscape become harder to ignore. Percy dreams of becoming a writer and searching for a life beyond Jasper, while Clay remains deeply rooted to the place and its people.
As their paths diverge, each must decide what loyalty means—to one another, to the past, and 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. It asks whether the past can ever truly be buried—and what happens when someone finally begins to dig.
Books for Sale
Seven Hills will be Available to purchase October 2026
Stories
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Last night, Karen and I snuggled up on the sofa with a soft throw and a cat named Boo while watching a Hallmark movie, “I do, I do, I do,” a plagiarized revisiting of the movie, “Ground Hog Day.” Here’s the plot. An architect heads to the altar with her fiancé, unsure of her marriage…
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“You are awfully quiet, are you ok?” That question was asked of me often in my youth. I replied aloud, “Yes, I’m fine,” while I silently thought, “You sure talk a lot, are you ok?” God forgive my bias toward quiet people. I do embrace my introversion though, because I had quiet mentors in my…
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Here is how bad it is in the oil patch. Today I began pumping gas noting the price $1.49 at my local Phillips 66. After two gallons, I realized I wanted a car wash, so I stopped the pump and let it reset and started a new transaction. Ten seconds later, I swiped the credit…
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If you’ve ever wondered what goes on in the mind of an introvert writer, here it is. We like judging people. Not in the indicting sense, but rather as a playful mind game that often displaces conversation. Shame on us who prefer an imagined conversation rather than reality. It does, however, assuage the boredom of…
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Karen and I dreamed separately (as is our normal way) two dark dreams last night. And it made us think of a story we read on vacation about belief and doubt. And no, this isn’t about my daughters per se, but it is about every parent who chooses to say I will or I will…
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Yogi Berra was describing his own version of Einstein’s Relativity theory when he remarked, “The future ain’t what it used to be.” I thought of the future that used to be as I sat in a deep leather recliner at Eggbert’s cafe, waiting for a table on a Saturday morning, a pager in hand while…
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“Do you have time to come home and help Dad? He fell and broke his leg.” Well, yes Mom, since you put it that way, I think I can find the time. And thanks for phrasing it in a non-urgent way so as not to alarm me and also give me an out in case…
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My good friend Ralph Rowand once told me something in college that made me look at him with a tilted head like a dog that’s been given kale. “Our generation got cheated out of a war.” said Ralph bemusedly. Once my head leveled back, I understood him to mean that the cheated part was the glory,…
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He can tell a story better than Mark Twain on a riverboat drinking whiskey in the moonlight, although the surreal and the absurd are difficult to distinguish from reality. I hang near him at family gatherings, because I’m a writer and he gives me stuff you can’t make up. And like Seinfeld’s blonde girlfriend who…
Bespoke 