He thought that finding the cure to the disease that took his father would be the hard part…
Colwyn had never questioned the role he was meant to play. The labels which would define him were assigned before he left primary school: genius; aloof; innovator; driven. Then, before even reaching his tenth birthday, his father got sick. Colwyn promised to find a cure, to save his hero. He failed. For the next twenty-six years, he dedicated his life to fulfilling the promise he made to his father with barely a passing thought to his own happiness outside of his love for the role-playing games that gave birth to his nickname.
He expects acclaim and jubilation when he announces he has, at last, succeeded. Instead, he encounters suspicion and corporate politics more interested in riches than saving lives. When he announces he’d rather die than allow his invention to be buried or priced so only the super wealthy can afford it, his bosses decide his proposal is acceptable. Before he can catch his breath, he finds himself in prison and facing a sentence measuring in decades; surrounded by men intent on ensuring he’ll never survive weeks, let alone years.
After a particularly brutal beating, Colwyn encounters a peculiar being who heals his wounds and gives him the power to transcend from an unassuming, forgettable nerd to a powerful alpha capable to forcing those bent on doing him harm to his will. When leaving prison becomes little more than an act of will and he finds the woman of his dreams literally standing on his doorstep, Colwyn discovers that his biggest challenge may be in restraining his new powers, rather than unleashing them.
The Game Master is a contemporary erotic romance about a man who sacrificed his happiness to fulfill an impossible quest, only to discover that finding the love of his life had been the true objective all along.
This novel is a work of fantasy. It features plenty of sensuality and impolite language, along with an examination of what it truly means to be a hero. It is intended for adult readers.
