How to Win a Million Dollars and BEEP Glitter!: a madcap, self-deprecating, laugh-out-loud, mostly true misadventure by Luke Stoffel Release Blitz with Guest Post & Giveaway
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Book Title: How To Win a Million Dollars and BEEP Glitter!
Author: Luke Stoffel
Publisher: Cinderly
Cover Artist: Luke Stoffel
Release Date: February 1, 2025
Pairing: MM
Tense/POV: past tense/first person
Genres: Contemporary, Humor, Fictionalized Memoir
Tropes: Coming-of-Age, Flawed Hero, Small-Town Dreamer, Cultural Satire, Underdog Story
Themes: Coming out, Resilience, Self-Discovery, 80s Nostalgia, Hope and Optimism
Heat Rating: 2 flames
Length: 72 000 words/ 263 pages
It is standalone not a series, but it has a related book coming in 2026.
It does not end on a cliffhanger.
Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited
Blurb
How to Win a Million Dollars is a madcap, self-deprecating, laugh-out-loud coming-of-age story that reads like David Sedaris meets Heartstopper, told as Ready Player One. It takes readers on an adventure through the wildly inventive, sometimes-questionable, but always entertaining schemes of a boy who would do anything to make it big.
Growing up as a gay Catholic schoolboy in a tiny Mississippi River town surrounded by cornfields, Luke’s imagination was constantly set on fire by million-dollar daydreams and DIY hustles. Whether it was hunting down the missing Cap’n Crunch or gaming McDonald’s Monopoly, no scheme was too ridiculous, no shortcut too far-fetched. With his trusty Hustler bike and a mountain of determination, Luke didn’t just dream—he plotted.
Set in the 1980s, this is the story of a kid with a knack for scamming, hustling, and occasionally crashing and burning—all in the pursuit of that elusive big win. From navigating a Catholic school playground full of bullies to trying to “make it” out of a blue-collar family, Luke was always on the move, cooking up his next big adventure. Dragging his little sister—turned faithful sidekick—into trouble at every turn, her sweet voice was always in his ear, making us wonder: is he conning her, or is she saving him from himself?
As Luke grew up, so did the schemes—transforming into a Broadway Cinderella story of sorts, ditching it all for the artist’s life in Paris, and even getting cursed by a vengeful Hawaiian god. With each crazy plan, the stakes got higher, the twists got weirder, and Luke had to ask himself the big questions: Can you beat the system, or will the system beat you? And what do you do when your dreams—and all your wildest schemes—start to crumble?
Through hilarity, heartbreak, and the relentless pursuit of the American Dream, How to Win a Million Dollars explores the glittering highs and crushing lows of chasing success in a world shaped by Reaganomics, dyslexia, and the crumbling façade of opportunity. From paperboy scams to glitter-filled art shows, this story is proof that while everything can fall apart at any moment, the journey—chaotic, messy, and wildly imperfect—is the real prize. And maybe, just maybe, there’s still a million-dollar dream out there, waiting to be won.
Excerpt
Chapter 1: Cereal Entrepreneur
The first time I tried to win a million dollars, it was the sweltering summer of 1985, and the Mississippi River was swollen and threatening to spill over its banks. The town was on edge, but thanks to the giant quarry wall my grandpa helped build back in the ‘50s, we were safe from the river’s fury. It was during that unforgettable summer when Cap’n Crunch went missing, and panic spread across the nation like wildfire.
Supermarkets were packed with towering displays of Cap’n Crunch, a mountain of yellow and blue boxes stretching to the ceiling. But when you looked up, there was no Captain. His jovial face had vanished, leaving behind nothing but dotted lines and a big question mark. He had disappeared, zeroed out. Zoinks! What was I to do?
The commercials made it sound so simple: find the Captain, restore him to his cereal kingdom, and win ONE MILLION DOLLARS. For a kid like me, the stakes couldn’t have been higher. A million dollars wasn’t just a number—it was a golden ticket, a way out of this tiny Mississippi River town.
Every Saturday morning, I’d sit in my parents’ living room—a shrine to America’s Bicentennial celebration. The royal blue carpet stretched wall to wall, its plush fibers worn thin in front of the TV. A deep red couch commanded the room like a throne, while gold curtains depicting Revolutionary War scenes framed the windows. It was like 1776 had crashed into 1980s suburbia, and somehow, we were still stuck suspended in between.
As my brothers and sisters tormented each other in the background, I was glued to the TV. The old box hummed as commercials blared, demanding kids like me solve the mystery, save the Captain, and claim the prize. The urgency of it all buzzed in my chest, electrifying the air around me. To a seven-year-old like me, a million dollars wasn’t just thrilling—it was everything. It meant a chance to escape this town, this life, and find something more.
In the afternoons, when the noise at home became too much, I’d head for the bluffs. The familiar path wound through tall grass that swayed gently in the breeze, the green hills rolling endlessly toward the horizon. I’d climb to my favorite perch and sit there for hours, the town spread out below me like a miniature toy train set. The limestone clock tower stood proudly at the center, surrounded by the river, the factories, and the steeples of the churches. Everything looked so small from up here, but somehow, it felt even smaller at eye level.
You see, up close, the town was just a second-rate version of Main Street USA, stripped of all the charm and magic of Disneyland. Most of the families here were like mine—working-class and stuck. I lived on the North End, what people would call the wrong side of the tracks, where factory workers like my dad scraped by.
I was a short, scrawny kid with wavy dishwater blond hair, wearing tattered dungaree shorts that were practically a second skin during the summer, their faded denim streaked with dirt and grass stains. My skin was golden tan from hours in the sun, but my legs were a patchwork of scars from chigger bites I couldn’t stop picking. Sitting cross-legged on the warm earth, absently scratching at the bites, my mind churned, methodically piecing together a plan. The Captain was missing. My ticket to freedom was hidden somewhere out there, and all I had to do was find it. Yet from this vantage point, the possibility of something greater still felt wildly out of reach. A million dollars meant escape, and as I sat on that bluff, staring out at the endless rows of cornfields, I swore to myself I was going to find it.
Each week, I’d beg my mom to let me tag along to the grocery store. Econofoods smelled like a strange mix of fresh produce and fake lemon cleaning products that clung to the air. The linoleum floors were scuffed and worn down from years of shopping carts rattling over them and the steady shuffle of feet. Jess, my five-year-old sister, was always a whirlwind of energy, darting between aisles like a tiny tornado. She had our dad’s button nose and her favorite white, frilly cotton top tucked into neatly pressed khaki shorts. Her tiny diamond stud earrings, pierced at Claire’s in the mall when she was a baby, sparkled as she twirled through the store. Her short brown pixie cut bobbed with every step, her energy infectiously lighthearted even as I plotted my next move.
Our Thoughts:
Author Interview:
Luke Stoffel
Introduce yourself and your writing:
Well, I’ve spent a lot of my life as an underdog. I find humor in the madness, and throughout my first book I found a lot of glitter in the rubble. I’m a painter first, with a mostly pop art aesthetic, and I paint giant pieces—sometimes spanning 18 feet across. The largest installation I ever did was 40 feet. I live and work in NYC, and I often make my living in advertising. It’s my life’s goal to get on the reality TV show Survivor.
Tell us about your new release. What inspired you to write it?
Honestly, it bubbled up from a conversation I started having with a friend. Originally, we were going to produce it as a podcast outlining the hilarity of our lives as we built a glitter-filled fashion app empire, then watched it all burn before our eyes. But it became something much more—something with more heart and fire than a podcast could encompass. We spent 15 hours interviewing each other about the madcap schemes we’d gotten up to, and then transcribed those interviews into a sprawling Google Doc, piecing together a puzzle.
How did you decide on the title?
The title is how I picked the book back up and finished it. I’m obsessed with playing the game Survivor on TV. During the pandemic, they called me to a second round of casting, and I was ecstatic. The title emerged from me applying over and over again, looking at my life, explaining it to them through a camera, and realizing I needed a marketing ploy to get on. So I thought of the title, started finishing the book, and realized I had much more in my hands than just a scheme to get onto a reality TV show. I had a handful of dreams that I think many people can relate to. Once I realized we could all see ourselves in my struggle, I knew I had something big. My beta readers evolved the book even more, and I think they helped shape the arc as much as I did.
What is the hardest part of writing any book?
The epilogue and the prologue. I needed to wrap up two very specific reasons for the book in each. They needed to allude to each other and circle back. I also had to learn where people got bored and cut a bunch of stories I still love. I had beta readers pay close attention to where I sounded like a spoiled rich kid and promptly corrected my interpretations of the situation.
Did you learn anything from writing your recent book? What was it?
I learned a lot about America: why we are the way we are, how we got here, what we value, and what has been stripped away from us. That was unexpected.
Do you have genres you prefer reading, and if so what are they?
I read a lot of sci-fi and space fantasy. I don’t know why, but I think they’re super smart and encapsulate a lot of deep thinking that I enjoy learning about. Space offers a tangible and different way to escape, one you can hope for rather than just pretend exists. There’s so much we can uncover about space, and I love reading people’s interpretations of what could be out there.
What book/s are you reading at the moment?
The Will of the Many. It’s a fascinating read with mystery, magic, a school where we learn to fight and solve complex problems, and an amazing labyrinth storyline at the end.
What novels do you adore/re-read?
Ready Player One, over and over.
Which other writers do you follow?
Madeline Miller – Circe and The Song of Achilles
Erin Morgenstern – The Night Circus
Elizabeth Gilbert – The Signature of All Things, Eat Pray Love, Big Magic
What are your writing and personal goals for 2024 and beyond?
I have another book I’ve been working on since 2019 that encapsulates stories from over 15 years I spent in Southeast Asia. It’s an adventure, it’s fun, and it’s incredibly anxiety-producing.
If you had access to a time machine just once, is there anything you’d go back and change? Either on a personal level or a historical event?
I’d like to have saved JFK and see how America would have evolved with him as president. I think his ambition to go to the moon and beyond really set this country up for greatness.
If you could choose any superpower or magical ability, what would it be and why? What would you do with it?
I would like to fly, because I want to get to more places faster and for free. I want to see everything in the world, and I think flying would just be a much easier way to do that. :D
If you could go anywhere in the world, all expenses paid, where would you go, who would you take with you, if anyone, and why?
I want to see the Great Barrier Reef. I think it’s just one of those things we may lose, and I want to know what it was like when it was thriving. I think it would be a wild adventure out into the middle of nowhere, and I’d love to explore that. I also want to see Bora Bora, the island that is a sunken volcano in French Polynesia. From the pictures, it looks like the most magical place on Earth.
If you were stranded on a desert island, what three things (or people) would you want there with you?
A fishing spear, a lifetime supply of rice, and a library.
What are you working on at present? Would you like to share a snippet?
I’m doing this book about traveling
In Over Your Head: When the Only Way Out is Down.
Chapter 1
January 8th, 2020: Shanghai
You know this road; you’ve traveled it several times over the past year. There is nothing new here, you tell yourself, yet your chest tightens with a familiar anxiety. Breathe… The street looks the same as last year—chilly, with a tinge of winter snow in the air. The sharp cold nips at your cheeks, while New York’s finest pre-lit Christmas lights twinkle as they swing gently above, casting faint glows on the wet pavement below. It feels just like last winter, the same journey you took a year ago, yet somehow, you’ve forgotten the overwhelming sensation of leaving home for two months. It’s there now, lurking just beneath your skin, an unease you can’t shake.
Surely, last year, when you embarked on a different journey, you had the same anxiety, the same fears. Didn’t you? But this year, your focus is so granular, so immediate, it’s all you can think about. The familiar path should feel comforting, but instead, it feels tighter with every step. You know this route, descending the subway stairs on a cold night, the metallic rail freezing under your fingers. The distant hum of trains and the faint scent of city grit fill the air. But this time, your breath comes faster, fogging up in front of you with each exhale. Your pulse quickens despite your best efforts. Slow down, calm your breathing. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
See, he has luggage, she has luggage—you are not alone on this journey. So why does it feel like you are? People are traveling with you. A woman ahead pulls along a steel-gray suitcase, its wheels scraping against the pavement, the sound somehow amplifying the pounding in your chest. Many are walking the same road as you. Some may be on a well-worn path for them, but Asia is a well-worn route for you. You were just there two months ago. You are not alone; calm yourself. The universe is within you, as you. The universe is within you, as you. The universe is within you, as you. You repeat the mantra you’ve concocted from an Elizabeth Gilbert novel. The universe wants your journey to go smoothly. Don’t get in the way of the universe’s will. There’s nothing to fear in your journey—accept and go, accept and go.
You descend off the Blue Line at JFK with a thousand other people in just this one hour, all making the same journey. The terminal hums with activity, sterile lights casting cold reflections on the marble floors. This is a hub for people crossing to other places. The murmur of voices is almost too loud now. Notice them on their journey, notice their stress, their urgency to catch their flights. But you are early. You have prepared. You are not rushing this time; you didn’t wait until the last minute to leave. You enter this road calmly—or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. Despite your oddly generalized anxiety, you’re trying to keep steady, trying to believe that you’re ready for the road ahead.
There’s a line in front of you—maybe you weren’t the only one who came early today. Maybe you’re even a tad late, sitting next to the hundreds of Chinese nationals who showed up three hours early for this flight. Their suitcases crowd the floor, colors ranging from sleek black to worn-out browns, backpacks slung over tired shoulders. Was everyone worried about the TSA and the government shutdown? Or the weird flu you keep hearing about that’s going around in China? Did the Chinese even know? Look there in the crowd—several backpacks, faded and frayed from years of travel, all headed out on this journey with you. Many of you going against the world, many of us stepping out of our corners to explore. Tick, tick, tick—the line slowly inches forward. The sound of rolling luggage and muffled announcements fills the space, each tick of the clock tightening the knot in your stomach.
Is your ticket valid? You couldn’t pre-check. Do they have your reservation? You ordered from a sketchy website and paid an insanely low price for two months on the road. A nervous chill creeps up your spine. Do you know for sure this is real? It better be—your apartment is sublet, and you’re out of New York now. How much would it cost to buy a seat to the Philippines this late in the game? The thought lingers as you glance around at the boarding gate monitors. You have to go—all your accommodations are booked.
The agents put all your fears to rest—your reservation is confirmed. You’re fine. Relief washes over you like a warm blanket, but your heart still pounds in your chest. You even have an aisle seat. No need to worry about those frequent trips to the bathroom during the flight. You breathe a little easier now. You’re safe. It’s midnight, and you can finally board the plane. Cold gusts from the tarmac bite at your skin as you step through the gate, your breath visible in the air. The weight of your backpack feels heavier than usual, but you’re trying to shake off the tension. You settle into your seat, already envisioning the sleep you desperately need on this long journey over the North Pole.
The ascent is gradual, but your stomach still flips as the plane rumbles softly, lifting into the night sky. The cold world outside fades away, and you’re quickly rocked to sleep by the slow weight of early morning settling on your shoulders. The cabin darkens, a sea of dim overhead lights flickering out one by one. You barely notice the people beside you—the hum of the engines and the quiet chatter begin to blur, fading into the background. You try to focus on making 15 hours in coach as bearable as possible. The pressure of your compression socks grips your legs a little too tight, but you pull the thin blue blanket over your head, creating a cocoon of warmth and solitude, hoping it will protect you from the restless thoughts circling in your mind.
There’s little to distract you before landing in Shanghai the next day. The hours pass in a haze of half-sleep, the occasional jolt of turbulence tugging at the edge of your nerves but barely registering. You cling to sleep as long as you can, but during the descent, your thoughts spin back to the present. You find yourself chatting with two chirpy girls from Maine. They’d been excitedly talking throughout the journey, snapping selfies, they had even posed with you in one unknowingly capturing you sleeping, with your blanket over your head and all. It’s strange to think you’re now at 4 a.m. in Shanghai. The sky outside the plane’s windows is still dark, the city lights below flickering faintly through the fog. You’re wide awake now. As you gather your thoughts, the anxiety that lingered through the flight is replaced with curiosity. A journey only begins by saying “yes,” you remind yourself. Throwing caution to the wind, you lean in and join their conversation.
It’s their first time in Asia—they’re headed to Bali. You smile, remembering your own journey there just a few months ago, and you share a few tips, recalling the salty air and hidden beaches. The anxiety loosens its grip as you watch the curiosity sparkle in their eyes. What’s interesting is that you’ve made no real plans in Shanghai, aside from meeting a friend from NYC for a late dinner before your next flight to the Philippines. You feel a strange mix of uncertainty and excitement now. With plenty of time to kill, and Shanghai never offering you much in terms of culture, you’re intrigued when the girls mention Disneyland—a surprise to you, as you hadn’t known there was one here. Communist Disneyland that’s a thing huh? Your excitement grows at the prospect, especially since you have hours to spare until the subway opens. The thought of an unexpected adventure, surrounded by towering castles and cheerful music, sends a small thrill through you, pushing aside the lingering anxiety.
Having learned from past experiences, you always carry spare Chinese cash in your backpack—a valuable lesson from trips where China’s quirks caught you off guard. After helping the girls wrestle with several uncooperative ATMs and watching the exchange booths refuse their credit cards… see you are more prepared for this than most people you reassure yourself. The chilly air of the terminal feels a bit more stifling. The sterile lights above flicker, casting harsh shadows as travelers hurry by with heavy steps. Your nerves buzz, but you try to stay calm. Eventually, you all give in and settle into a Starbucks. The familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee wraps around you like a comfort, mixing with the low hum of airport announcements. Over breakfast sandwiches and grande vanilla lattes (because what’s more American?), you start to laugh about the ordeal, tension loosening bit by bit.
Together, you hatch a plan to get to Disneyland, using a mix of Venmo and the spare cash you brought in your pocket. The idea feels almost absurd in its simplicity. Of course, Disneyland. Surely that’s the trick, the antidote to the gnawing anxiety that’s been coiling tighter inside you. A place built to whisk you away from reality, with its cheerful music, towering castles, and the promise of magic around every corner.
You let yourself believe, just for a moment, that this detour might settle your restless soul. After all, isn’t that what Disneyland is for? Escaping into a world where nothing outside its gates matters. You picture yourself walking through those gates, leaving the cold, the stress, and the weight of your own thoughts behind, stepping into a place where everything is perfectly designed to make you forget.
But as you sip your latte and laugh with the girls, the excitement dims just a little, and a nagging thought creeps back in. This cartoon candyland seems perfect—too perfect. The very thought you’re clinging to for relief now feels fragile, artificial. What if it’s not enough? What if the magic doesn’t work?
The knot in your stomach tightens again, the edges of your mind buzzing with the same anxious thoughts you tried to leave behind. Surely Disneyland will fix this. Won’t it? You stare at the steam rising from your cup, forcing yourself to believe that a land of fantasy can quiet the storm inside you. But it’s Disney, what possibly could go wrong?
Turns out… absolutely everything!
About the Author
Luke Stoffel (b. 1978) Growing up a gay Catholic schoolboy on the banks of the Mississippi came with its own cross to bear. Confined by the cornfields of small-town Iowa, Luke’s understanding of God and his yearning for a world beyond began to take shape—often while nursing a bloody nose on the playground. The first thing Jesus taught him was how to hate himself; but the first thing the world taught him was how vast his possibilities were.
Luke is an accomplished artist and author, with several books available on Amazon, including The Easy Bake Unicorn Cookbook, The Art of Tarot: A History and Guidebook, and his debut novel
How to Win a Million Dollars and BEEP Glitter! His second, follow-up novel, In Over Your Head, is set to release in 2026. Additionally, his art and photography are featured in his ongoing book series The Noble Path.
Stepping off the plane in Thailand was like landing on Mars. Surrounded by towering golden stupas, and realizing there was something beyond the confines of Christ, became an explosive creative catalyst. Having visited over 40 countries, Stoffel channels the diverse cultures he’s encountered into his art. His work explores spirituality in a vibrant, pop fantasy style, offering American audiences a glimpse into the world’s rich religious and cultural tapestries.
Recognized as one of NYC’s top LGBTQ+ artists by GLAAD he has been showcased by prestigious organizations like the American Foundation for AIDS Research, and the Matthew Shepard foundation. His art and photography have appeared on Bravo’s Million Dollar Listing, in the New York Times, Huffington Post, AM New York, Hawaiian Airlines Magazines, and on the cover of Next Magazine. His artistic contributions have earned him the Starving Artist Award, along with a commission for Ralph Lauren’s daughter. His art has graced iconic New York venues like the Puck Building, The Art Directors Club, The Prince George Gallery, GalleryBar, and New World Stages.
Author Links
Blog/Website | Facebook | Instagram
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