Theo Sandoval doesn’t belong here, there, or anywhere.
Klein Warren doesn’t believe in a damn thing.
Malachi ‘Mac’ O’Shea isn’t interested in trying to behave.
One wants to be the best but can’t get past his meager beginnings.
One wants to be famous but can’t overcome his crippling fear.
One wants to be free from the heavy chains of his dangerous legacy but has no way out.
Three young men from very different backgrounds, whose paths would never normally cross, will ultimately end up shaping each other's futures. With little in common and a million unanswered questions about the growing feelings between them, it shouldn’t be an easy feat for the three boys to fall in love. However, the past has proven that anything is possible at Castle Pines, an elite, boys only private school tucked away high in the Colorado mountains that brought these very different boys together.
Somehow this unexpected trio makes learning all about love and sex look effortless... until cold, hard reality comes crashing in.
The truth is, some differences are just too big to overcome, and making the choice to walk away from what you’ve always known can be impossible.

The Allstar The Rockstar and The Gangstar  is created by Imogene Kash, an eGlobal Creative Publishing Signed Author


The Allstar The Rockstar and The Gangstar

While I was at this fucking private school in the middle of nowhere, frequently freezing my ass off in knee-deep snow during practice and training, I was only as valuable as my next pitch or next homerun. It didn't matter how hard I worked. It didn't matter that I had better stats than the majority of the team. If I couldn't play… I was worthless. If I couldn't help the team win, I had no reason for being at this school I absolutely could not afford and where I definitely didn't belong. Not a day went by that I wasn't reminded I was only allowed on these hallowed grounds because of a very generous scholarship provided by an anonymous donor. Apparently, someone had seen me playing ball back at my very underfunded and very rough public school located in a suburb of Los Angeles. The secret donor was rumored to be a huge baseball fan and could easily recognize raw talent when he saw it. He knew there was no way I was going anywhere other than jail or the morgue if I stayed where I was and offered me a way out.


At first, I thought it was a scam and blew the scholarship offer off. On what planet did a stranger offer to pay the way for a kid they didn't even know to attend the best private school in the country? I'd almost completely forgotten about the weirdness of it all when my best friend was killed because he took the wrong way home from school one afternoon. The violence was senseless and startling. The loss affected me in ways I wasn't ready for. Suddenly, I wanted a shot at something more. I wanted a way out. So, even if it was a scam, I took the scholarship offer and resolved to freezing my balls off while going to a school located literally on the side of a fucking mountain.


It was crystal clear the minute I stepped on the campus that I did not fit the mold of the average Castle Pines student. My parents both left me like it was nothing, so I had no idea about my lineage, let alone what my family crest might be. I never knew where my next meal might come from; I didn't even have a savings account, much less a trust fund, or any kind of stocks and bonds. I played ball in cleats that had been passed down through more than one season, and my track pants didn't have a designer logo on them. The rest of the kids around me wouldn't even breathe air that wasn't endorsed with a logo or stamped with some kind of luxury symbol. The sheer amount of wealth and excess that surrounded me was unbelievable. And I quickly learned it didn't matter if I was the best and the brightest; the fact that I was also the poorest would always trump any of my accomplishments. I was either viewed as a charity case or a burden.


I knew I was neither. But it was hard to fight against the opinion of the majority when they tried to convince you otherwise.


"What are we going to do with you if you can't play this weekend, Sandoval?"


I looked at the coach from under the brim of my ball cap. He'd asked me the same question three times since I'd shown up to practice a couple of days ago with my wrist all jacked up. I'd done my best to cover up the fact it was sprained, but limited mobility, combined with my banged-up face had all kinds of attention on me I didn't want or need.


I should've known Mac was going to be right.
