I didn’t set out to write Gold Doesn’t Blink. It wasn’t born from some grand vision or a fire in my gut that demanded to be put on paper. Truth be told, this story snuck up on me, the way a song you didn’t mean to love gets stuck in your head. It started with a single image: a kid standing on a diving block at dawn, the pool still as glass, his body coiled with defiance and dreams too big for his frame. That kid was Briton Thorne, and once he showed up, he wouldn’t shut up. He brought Madison, their crew, and a whole messy, sun-soaked world of 2005 Miami along with him.

This book happened the way life does—by accident, in fragments, through moments that seem small until they’re not. I was just trying to capture the rhythm of high school: the pranks that make you laugh until your sides hurt, the ache of first love, the weight of choices that feel like they’ll define you forever. Briton and Madison’s story isn’t polished or planned—it’s raw, like chlorine on your skin or the sting of a missed chance. It’s about pushing until it hurts, not just in the pool or on the field, but in the quiet spaces where you figure out who you are and who’s worth fighting for.

I wrote this in stolen hours, piecing together their voices from memories of my own teenage chaos—Razr phones buzzing, indie rock humming, and the feeling that every day could be the one that changes everything. There’s no grand lesson here, no manifesto. Just a story that demanded to be told, about kids who are reckless and loyal, flawed and fierce, chasing something bigger than themselves. If you’ve ever pushed too hard, loved too deep, or laughed until you couldn’t breathe, I hope you’ll find a piece of yourself in Briton, Madison, and their wild, unbreakable crew.

So, dive in. Let their world pull you under. It’s worth the swim. Until next time, may God bless you.

If Briton’s story moved you, I’d be honored if you shared your thoughts. Reviews help stories find their way.