A love story about coming of age with a nostalgic touch, set in Myrtle Beach during the 1980s. “Real intimacy isn’t physical. It’s when you let someone see the mess inside —and they don’tlook away.” Red Camaro Summer by Author Brad Stokes
In the world of literature, Red Camaro Summer stands out as a journey through love and self-discovery.
The novel, Red Camaro Summer, captures the essence of youthful dreams and the bittersweet nature of nostalgia.
As he pens Red Camaro Summer, Brad reflects on moments that define a lifetime.
Through Red Camaro Summer, Myrtle Beach readers will find relatable themes of love and loss.
His memories of driving a Camaro serve as a vivid backdrop in Red Camaro Summer, enhancing the narrative.
The vibrant atmosphere of Myrtle Beach is a character in itself in Red Camaro Summer.
In Red Camaro Summer, storytelling intertwines with the pursuit of dreams amidst life’s challenges.
Each chapter of Red Camaro Summer unfolds like a memory, rich and evocative.
Take a peek into the heart of the story with this excerpt from Red Camaro Summer.
Brad Stokes, a former resident of Myrtle Beach, has recently published his debut book, Red Camaro Summer, which draws inspiration from the significant milestone of nearing fifty years of age.
Brad started reflecting on the twisting paths that led him to this point – the positive, challenging, agonizing, and significant ones.
A lawyer based in Columbia, South Carolina is now using writing as a means to share the experiences and teachings that have influenced his life. His desire is for readers to connect with the authenticity and familiarity portrayed in his stories.
Brad Stokes was raised in Lexington, North Carolina, where he passed his high school days driving around in a Camaro and envisioning a bright future.
Following high school, he embarked on a significant journey, dedicating almost ten years to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. During this time, he worked various jobs such as bartending and waiting tables, while also serving the community as a firefighter and EMT.
Brad currently resides in Columbia, South Carolina, working as a lawyer. He has a passion for storytelling and introspection, which he applies both in his legal practice and during moments of tranquility.
Those years shaped his sense of duty, grit, and resilience.
Excerpt from Red Camaro Summer
The road stretched ahead, dark and endless, lined with trees that blurred past in a streak of green and black. The wind roared through the open T-tops, whipping her hair across her face, but she barely noticed.
Her hands flew over the gearshift, quick and precise, slamming it into the next gear like a seasoned racer. The engine howled in response, the speedometer climbing higher and higher,
numbers ticking away like seconds lost to the night.
The Camaro vibrated beneath her, not just a car but a living thing, feeding off her anger, her frustration, her need to run. Kimmy wasn’t just taking her somewhere—she was keeping her there, making her feel home.
The tires gripped the pavement with every turn, as if whispering a promise that it wouldn’t let her go, wouldn’t let her slip away like everything else in her life. Bryce watched the needle climb, his heart pounding in time with the rumble of the engine, but he didn’t tell her to slow down. He knew Kimmy wouldn’t let her go too far.
Kimmy understood.
Ultimately, Red Camaro Summer is not just a book; it’s an experience, a journey of the soul.
Bryce sat back in the passenger seat, watching her. He could tell she was pissed, but he also knew it wasn’t just about Troy. It was about everything—about being stuck, about wanting more, about feeling like she was always running but never quite getting anywhere.
“You know,” he said after a long silence, “if you hijack my car, you
have to listen to my music.”
She shot him a look but said nothing as he leaned forward, flipping through the cassettes in the glove box. The radio crackled between stations, static giving way to a familiar melody.
The Cure’s Pictures of You poured through the speakers, haunting
and slow. Shan groaned, rolling her eyes. “Oh my God. We’re really doing sad-
boy music?”
Bryce grinned, stretching out in his seat. “You steal my car, you get my mixtape.” She didn’t argue. They drove in silence, the road ahead stretching like an open invitation, like freedom.
The street lights flickered across her face, catching the glint in her eyes, the flicker of something she wasn’t saying.
Soon, the glow of town disappeared in the rearview mirror, swallowed by the dark. The houses and storefronts thinned out, replaced by wide-open fields and old wooden fences.
The neon signs and pavement gave way to stretches of country highway, where cow pastures rolled endlessly under a sky full of stars. The moon hung heavy and bright, casting silver light over the land, illuminating the wisps of fog that curled along the roadside.
The hum of the engine was the only sound now, steady and constant, as if Kimmy herself
knew that for once, they weren’t running away—they were running toward something.
Local News Via - MyrtleBeachSC.com
