This is one of many stories that can belong to any man, but this one belongs to Tony Richards. Not a Player, but rather a Macaroni, who had determined what, and who could be a part of his life. As a Macaroni, he didn’t play the game of life like other’s did. His philosophy for his personal life was simple, take all that was offered, and give as little as possible. He had decided what his soul mate had to be, and a ready-made family was out of the question for him. Avoiding the drama that that could bring, made sense to him. To this point he had orchestrated everything in his life, but had not counted on meeting someone like Gayle Martin and her son Eric. Change for him was in the wind, and he had no way of knowing how strong the wind was blowing.

     The author was born and raised on the west side of Chicago Illinois. He attended and graduated from Roosevelt University in that city, and immediately began his career in the Financial arena. He has worked with Arthur Young & Co, one of the Big Eight accounting firms of the times. He also, worked with Northwest Industries, and Beatrice Companies, as a Financial and Operational Consultant. Later in his career he became licensed, and began his rise to Vice President of Investments of two Stocks and Bond brokerage houses in the heart of the financial district on LaSalle Street, downtown Chicago. His career in the financial markets has continued with America’s Advantage Mortgage, Incorporated, of Orland Park, as Vice President of Mortgage Lending, and as an Instructor at Prairie State College in finance. He began writing while traveling for the companies he represented, and eight years later he completed his first work. He got serious about his writing, and completed this work in three years. He also writes poetry, is an accomplished artist, and is a past entrepreneur. 


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    Read an Excerpt of Another Kind of Love Story Below

 
                           CHAPTER ONE

     IT HAD LONG become common for Tony Richards to awaken to a strange set of surroundings, with female companionship just as strange to him. His eyes slowly opened on this morning, as he looked around the bedroom to find something, anything that might be familiar to him. As he cleared his eyes he turned to face the woman that he laid against in the bed, as the beginning of daylight continued to glare through the window draperies. His eyes focused as best they could, as the soft sunlight continued to pierce the draperies, but he really couldn’t recall who the woman was. Considering the position he found himself in, she had to have at least told him her name. At the moment, however, he had drawn a blank. He couldn’t, for his life, recall the woman’s name. He knew her from the club they were at last night, Sweet Geogia Brown, but he couldn’t recall her name or anything about her to save his soul. Very slowly he eased from between the sheets, and quietly walked around to the other side of the bed. He wanted to get a better look at her, as though a look would reveal who she was. He now stood over the woman whose bed he had just shared, and just stood there staring at her. Again, as he regained as much of his composure as he could, he tried to identify who she was. This time he got a better look, but it made no difference, he still couldn’t recall the lady's name. She was beautiful, from what he could see. Silhouetted by her satin sheets, she had a body straight out of Detroit, made by Fisher. Only her upper body was revealed, as the rest of her body was enveloped by the sheet, but she was absolutely beautiful. From the look of the things that adorned her bedroom, she had to be on top of her game. She fit the profile that she had to have, but who a she?

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