Amazon Ranch Boy Books Category:  Action/Thriller Publisher: High Pitched Hum Publishing ISBN-10:  097598182x Type: Fiction Pages: 328 Copyright: March 2005 Synopsis Bottom Time Robbie Duncan from Ranch Boy grows up, graduates from college, and moves to Jacksonville Beach where he rents a great bachelor pad near the ocean. At the same time, while entertaining the beautiful ladies of the area in his apartment and around the beach, he becomes a scuba diver and eventually a salvage diver, and he has some extraordinary experiences doing that which includes a hair-raising encounter with drug lords. When one dives, the time between leaving the surface and coming back up again is called “bottom time.” The journeys to the various dive sites in the Atlantic Ocean, however, take from one to three hours and Robbie passes the time lying on the fish box of the Restless, Cap’n Bill Aley’s snapper boat. His mind drifts back to the crazy, Animal House type events of his time at Newberry College and the various capers he was involved in and the beautiful women he had been with. Robbie had been a wild and crazy guy in college. He is loved by the ladies and loves them back and since Robbie’s favorite part of the female anatomy is the bottom, he has “bottom time” then as well. This is a hilarious and exciting story. You won’t want to put it down. The inside of Pete’s was dimly lit, with most of the light coming from the florescent fixtures over the pool tables and from the myriad of beer and liquor signs that hung on the walls and from the ceiling. These signs were accompanied by an assortment of old guns, which hung on the walls between them. Beginning by the entry door, there was a long bar with wooden stools that ran along the entire length of the wall and wrapped around along the other wall at the end of the building. Bottles of liquor stood in front of a giant mirror, which hung over the long counter behind the aisle where the bartenders worked. Next to the door on the wall behind the bar was a window that could be opened to sell liquor to patrons who walked up on the sidewalk and knocked on it. Two pool tables stood in the room opposite the bar. There were a couple of picnic style tables in the middle with a large jukebox between them and some other small tables and chairs scattered around. To use the bathroom, a patron would have to walk down a hall in the back of the building and enter the door marked with the appropriate gender. When Robbie walked in the door, he saw his good friend Eric Smith standing by the bar talking to David Carter, Bill Gufford and Bart Bevis. Eric had roomed with Robbie when he first moved to the Jacksonville area. They had some wild times and wild parties, including one where Eric ended up with Boston Baked Beans in his eyes and what he thought were his date’s pants over his head. Like Robbie, he was a young man full of love and humor. Eric was six feet tall. He had a pleasant round face and long arms and torso. Eric genuinely loved people. He had a father who instilled the best of values and decency in him. David was equally as humorous and fun-loving as Eric. Robbie gravitated towards fun-loving and decent people. Behind his large glasses, David’s face would light up with laughter at every opportunity. David was a long-time friend of Robbie’s, and actually, they even taught together now at Fletcher High School. Bill was the intellectual and the achiever. He was medium height, handsome, and eloquent. Bart was an old friend of Robbie’s who moved into the area like Robbie. They discovered each other again at Pete’s. Bart was a thinker, too, and an artist. He even studied art at Robbie’s mother’s art classes in Lake Wales when they lived there. Bart wasn’t very tall, but he did have an intellectual look about himself behind his wire rimmed-glasses. David Keys, tall and thin with a crew cut, was standing behind the bar. Barry Callaway, who was close to the same size as David, stood with him. Barry wore little wire-rimmed glasses. He wore a buzz haircut, and the omnipresent cocktail straw was protruding from his lips as he stood with his arms crossed across his chest, waiting to serve his customers. Dave and Barry were masterful bartenders. They were listening to the conversation as Robbie walked up to the group. “Hey, Fellas. Mind if I join you for a beer?” Robbie was always proper with his grammar. It was a thing he decided he would do when he was in college. His coach, Coach Kirkland, used very sophisticated vocabulary words– pronounced in a South Carolina Southern drawl. Robbie’s mother and father were both college graduates, linguistically and grammatically correct in their respective speaking and enunciation, and he thought that it was a good thing to do. After all, he thought, the purpose of speaking was to communicate, and if people didn’t use the same symbols and words, communication couldn’t occur. An exchange of ideas and information would break down if both sides of a communication didn’t have the same set of rules. Eric turned and saw it was Robbie. “Well if it ain’t Wonder Boy. Lookee here guys, we got a Captain Marvel Hero joinin’ us. How’s it hangin’, Hoss?” Eric was a college educated attorney who was studying for the bar exam. He was able to speak perfect English also, but he enjoyed playing with the language. Robbie fired back at Eric, “Hi yourself, you old Pettifogger. How are you guys doing? Hey, David. I’ll take a Heineken.” David popped the top on the green bottle and set it on the bar beside Robbie. The group had talked about an hour when Robbie decided it was time for a game of pool, and he looked over towards the pool tables to see if one was open. He just about dropped his beer. Leaning over one of the tables, taking aim with a cue stick, was an absolutely gorgeous creature in a miniskirt. Her long, well-developed, suntanned legs disappeared under the miniskirt just scant inches from exposing her bottom, which was ample. She was tall and svelte. When she moved it was absolutely fluid. Few women moved like this one did. She had obviously been athletic in her life. Robbie was smitten. Not only was he a bottom man, he loved everything about ladies. Another thing he loved in a lady was long hair; the color wasn’t important. This young goddess had long, auburn hair that fell to the table as she leaned over. When he saw her face, he discovered she was the real McCoy. She was very pretty and wore very little makeup. Robbie had always heeded the advice of his old high school football coach, Coach Odham. He told the boys, “Fellas, be careful about the girl you choose to go out with. You can never know the one you end up being married to.” Robbie sure didn’t want to be stuck with an ugly woman. He was always awkward when it came to attempting a “pick-up” line, although four years of college had improved him somewhat. He had always been a little bashful around the ladies, especially the pretty ones. Robbie’s eyes were riveted on the young Venus as she methodically knocked ball after ball into the pockets of the table. She leaned across the table again, this time one curvaceous leg was lifted off the floor, exhibiting a flash of white panties under the miniskirt. Robbie almost fainted! His mind was racing, trying to come up with a plan. Eric was a good friend of Robbie’s. He immediately picked up on Robbie’s consternation. “What’s a matter there, boy, that woman got cha by the ying yang? You look like a hound dog huntin’ coons. Nobody’s been seen staring like that since Lady Godiva rode through town on that white horse. Why don’t you just go over and introduce yourself? She hasn’t got anybody with her.” “Eric, that is one gawgeous creature! I gotta meet her.” Eric was utterly incorrigible. To Robbie’s absolute dismay, he walked over to the young beauty and, in his best Rhett Butler voice said, “Excuse me Ma’am.” He put his right hand across his waist and made a perfect bow. “Mah friend, that young buck ya see standin over yonder, wants to make your acquaintance but can’t seem to find his tongue. Would y’all do me the courtesy of allowin’ me to introduce you? You can call me Eric, by the way, and what might be your name?” Amused by Eric’s clowning around, the young lady laughed and looked over at Robbie. Robbie was 6' 4" tall and weighed 230 pounds. His physique looked as if it had been chiseled out of marble due to years of backbreaking work when he was a cowboy and from four years playing college football. His handsome face was deeply tanned, which contrasted with the sandy blonde hair he kept combed over to one side. After a quick once-over, the voluptuary locked eyes with Robbie. They both knew in that instant that they were going to be together. She looked at Eric. “Hello, Rhett, er, I mean, Eric. You can call me Gina. How do I know that behemoth over there isn’t a pervert or something? Ya know a girl has to be careful these days.” Gina was just playing with them. It wasn’t proper for a young lady to appear too forward, especially in a bar. It hadn’t escaped Robbie, however, that she was in a bar alone, and she was dressed to kill. He knew she was aware of what she was doing. “On mah word of honor, fine damsel, I attest to the character of this fine specimen of red-blooded American manhood.” What she did next just about floored Eric and Robbie. She looked straight in Robbie’s eyes, lifted a pretty arm and with her slim curling and uncurling index finger, gave him the “come here” sign. Robbie burst out with a laugh. He thought the gesture was very “cool.” He walked over to the pool table where she stood next to Eric who was now really having a good time. Somebody had stoked the jukebox, and it was playing “I’m a believer,” by the Monkees. Eric continued his charade. “Robbie Duncan, mah good man, Ah’d like ya ta meet Miss Gina. She didn’t tell me her last name. Gina, this here’s Robbie Duncan.” Gina and Robbie stood there, eyes riveted on each other’s. Her eyes were a beautiful and bright shade of light brown. Gina was in better control than Robbie who was standing mute with a sheepish grin on his face. He managed to squeeze out, “Glad to meet you, Gina. I hope my good friend here hasn’t disturbed your game.” Gina was thinking what a fine physical specimen he was. She also hadn’t missed the degree of sophistication evident in his voice and choice of words. Robbie was thinking about the treasures barely hidden by the miniskirt. He also hadn’t missed the bulging blouse. Gina’s smile flashed like a morning sun rising out of the ocean. She decided to be coy and play with him a bit. “Ok, Robbie Duncan, you met me, now what?” The first thing that flashed through Robbie’s mind was, “How the hell do I reply to that?” He knew he couldn’t say what he really wanted to do. He settled for, “How about a game of pool?” Robbie was a terrible pool player. In spite of his prowess at most things physical, he had never mastered the game even though he enjoyed it immensely. It also hadn’t escaped his notice earlier that Gina had been methodically sinking one ball after another as he watched her. He could never beat her. So he was formulating a plan. His ineptness could be turned into a great advantage. The important thing was for Gina to enjoy herself. Observing her evident degree of confidence, he had no doubt that she would relish the thought of whipping him at pool. Gina grinned at his suggestion. “You’re on, big boy. But, we gotta bet something. What’s your bet?” Gina was sure she had herself a ringer. Robbie was no fool, and he wasn’t a gambler. About the most serious thing he ever gambled at was penny ante poker. He never had much money, and what he did have he’d worked too hard to lose it frivolously. “How about the loser buys the winner a beer?” “Ok, Cowboy, you’re on. Got a quarter?” Robbie put a quarter in the slot on the table and pushed the lever to release the balls into the chute below. Without looking, Gina reached down and pulled a ball from the chute. “Highest number breaks.” She pulled out the nine ball. Robbie reached in and pulled out the ten. Gina racked the balls, and the game began. Although Robbie had a good break and sunk two balls, that was the extent of his luck. Gina would sink most of her shots; Robbie would miss most of his. “Eight ball in the side pocket.” And with one sure stroke of the cue stick, Gina skillfully sunk the eight ball in the corner pocket. “I’ll take a Budweiser.” Excerpt "Don't give me no plastic saddle baby, I like to feel the leather when I ride . . . ."

G. W. Reynolds III
After introducing us to Robbie Duncan as a teenage ranch hand, Steve Robertson follows the "Ranch Boy" into manhood. His adventures while diving at the bottom of the ocean and his escapades with the college girls give a double meaning to his concept of "Bottom Time". You will probably recognize someone from your past in the pages of Steve's new book. Enjoy!

Captain Steve Park
Great read, especially for those of us who have been there. The story takes me back to a very special time of my life, factual fiction or fictional fact. Makes me feel I'm down there once again.

Barbara Green, Educator
Have you ever read a book that 6 months later you are still wondering what the characters are doing because you can’t stop thinking of them? Have you ever read a book that the descriptions were so vivid you could smell the food cooking, taste the salt air in your mouth, and gave you goose bumps as young lovers entwine? Well, I never did. That is until I read Bottom Time. Now it's your turn. I guarantee it will make you laugh out loud, bring back some great memories of your own, and leave you beggin’ for more.