New Release: Divinity!

Divinity was made available last night at midnight! Very excited about it. Those who've pre-ordered, you should be able to download it now. Those of you who haven't ordered your copy, go for it! Enjoy!

When your best isn't good enough

Moral of this story: Do never, in no way, ever, mess with my kids.

Go ahead, jump to conclusions, but I'll bet you'll empathize once I tell you what my son went through yesterday.

**Today, I'm not posting about books or writing or sex or anything close to self promotion. No eye candy. No sarcasm or any of my awesome wit, no. Today, I'm speaking from a place I seldom go for fear of my own passion. Just thought I'd throw in that disclaimer before I get started.


Yesterday was my sons' first day of school this year. Huge change for all of us: one in elementary and now one in middle school. That means both are alone each day, all day, in a brand new school that no one, not even the teachers are familiar with, and of course, different bus schedules for each kid. Gotta grow up some time, right?

So, the eleven year old is a little nervous with all the "newness". Understandable. I agree to meet the bus driver with him, find out his new schedule, maybe ease his mind a touch on his first day of school. Just great: We discover we have a new bus driver too!

Here's the conversation that took place:

"Morning. What time do you think you'll be back this way for the middle schoolers?"

"I dunno, it's my first day."

(Now, we live two miles from elementary school this driver is taking kids to first. Ours is the next to last stop on her route. I'm mentally calculating what I believe is a fair time, but I don't know what time the kids are supposed to be to school, maybe this driver has time to stop for breakfast? I don't know all the factors, so I ask. Again. A little more informed this time.)

"I understand it's your first day." [insert phony smile] "The school's two miles away, we're almost the last stop; Can you give me a rough estimate maybe? Maybe fifteen minutes, twenty? Half an hour? An hour?"

"I don't know! It's my first day!!!"




I felt my eyes go wide, heard in a very stressed voice inside my head "O....K....," and I turned around with a curt thanks [for nothing], determined to come home, call transportation, and get this incompetent a**hat wrote up.

I mean, c'mon, MY kids are on 'your' bus... I want to be sure 'you' can be trusted with my most valued things in my life, and all 'you' show me is that 'you' can't control your temper FIRST THING IN THE MORNING? What's the rest of the day going to be like for this person? My only thought.

We notice one of my son's friends waiting for the same bus, so I let him go and wait with his friend while I drive back up the hill to call.

No surprise here: transportation isn't answering the phones... Typical. I vow not to give up until they've heard about one of their driver's incompetence in handling both her job and the customer, moi, and my most precious cargo...

Suddenly, our dog raises hell...I look out the window to see my son tearing up the driveway. "What the hell's goin' on?"

Winded, he braces his knees [we live 1/4 mile off hwy]. "She left us... She drove right by, turned, and went toward the school!"

Murderous intention danced like sugarplums across my mind. You What? You left my kid? Like hell!


Needless to say, I floored it all the way to school, got him there in thirty minutes, got back home, made up my mind to put phone on rapid dial until I got through to transportation.

Nothing.

Transportation didn't pick up their phone, not once all day! [You can bet your sweet a** I'll be on that phone all day today also]


But the fun doesn't end here.

Oh, no.


My youngest calls me at work--at 5:22 pm-- "Have you heard from--?"

WHAT? "He's not home?!"

Ok. Quick brain calculation again... 1. driver's incompetent; 2. driver's got an attitude problem; 3. driver doesn't know her route; 4. driver would rather get angry than find solution = son will be late getting home.  I figure about an hour, maybe a little longer.

He got out of school at 3:30!

The rest of my afternoon was consumed with panic, swearing--LOTS of swearing, walking out at work [literally, just walked out the doors, hopped in my Jeep, peeled out of the lot], driving across town to a school I expect to find completely dark at 5:30 at night, found a most gracious and most helpful vice principal in a lone little office off Administration, who was a true people person and dropped all her responsibilities and tried everything in her power to help me find my son... and a brief loss of hope when even she could not get a hold of transportation and I was going to have to jet across town the other direction to get there before they locked up for the night and the whole time HOPE my son was still on the bus?

I called home one last time.


My son picked up the phone. "I'm home finally. Got here at 5:44."

I couldn't speak much; think I got out a "good, love you," and a "bye."

Neither my son nor I will go through this again. Ever.


I'll be back on that phone today, but I won't mess with calling transportation, no. You had your chance to satisfy this "customer" and failed. I'll be on the phone to the district superintendent, and I won't stop until I get the results I seek. I'm sorry for your shiny new bus on your shiny new route and your shiny new job, Ms. incompetent bus driver, but when it comes to MY kids, your best wasn't good enough.

Bryl R. Tyne is a wrangler by nature and a writer by choice, published with Noble Romance Publishing, Ravenous Romance, Dreamspinner Press, STARbooks Press, Untreed Reads Publishing, Changeling Press, and Amber Quill Press. Check out Bryl's bi-monthly column: My Way   Find out more about the author at: bryltyne.com

 

This post is X-posted to Bryl R Tyne's Blog and The Rainbow Studio.

HOT SUMMER DAYS for m/m romance readers

So over on Goodreads, I am a member of a readers/authors group, a private group specifically made for those who enjoy m/m romance, aptly called "M/M Romance". The mods of the 3000+ member group got together and come up with a Hot Summer Days contest where members could write an open letter to the authors on the group requesting a story centered around one of their fave erotic photos the group has in a folder. They could even set up the scenario if so desired. The stories are being put up on the group daily since July 1 and by the time they're all posted, the combined word count will come close to 1 million words. Afterward, the stories will be combined into one anthology and made available for FREE.

I accepted reader Jacqueline's challenge to write a story based on this photo and with the instruction "...this man is his muse" and qualifications: HEA and more story over sex.

Here's a snippet of my story:

Tags: short story, deaf, m/m, gay fiction, gay romance, fantasy, anthology

Genres: Fantasy

Content Alerts: N/A

Alipio by Bryl R. Tyne

(He who suffering does not affect)

For Jacqueline

Blurb: Incapable of wooing this man, I stand in awe of his presence, hoping to one day carry myself half as regally, for he has the self-worth of a majestic oak, the harmlessness of a feather, and the heart of a lion. His name is Alipio...and I am hopelessly in love.

Excerpt: Alipio. Every Tuesday afternoon since that first day, his name had rolled off the walls of my mind, blanketing me in peace, guiding my artist's hand. His master called him Alipio. I called him perfect.

No god possessed finer lines...or eyes more soulful.

I was sure of my assessment too as I strained the edge of my charcoal, and felt the energy transfer from Alipio's stare into my own. My left shoulder tensed, tapping that power, feeding it along my arm to fuel the creativity of my hand as it moved in sweeping motions across the canvas.

Coming to myself minutes later, I stepped back from my work in progress, looked toward the front of the room. Alipio remained motionless upon the ladder. I caught the briefest flicker in his irises, and his sure but questioning gaze met mine as if to ask, "Is it done?"

I dropped my stare to my canvas. What I saw there fed my insatiable thoughts of inadequacy. No, I was far from finished...and from the rough lines that I'd gone over at least a hundred times and still not gotten right, I determined the drawing would never be. Surely, my hands could never do justice to one as fine as Alipio. Heat drew my attention upward, my own or the burn of another's stare, back to the face of my muse. Jaw tense on that face of stone, I noted one corner of his perfect mouth crook higher, by just a touch...a smile meant just for me. Cool air from the studio's one open window crept across the back of my sweat-dampened shirt. I shivered, wondering what his master would do to him if he discovered Alipio's unfaithfulness. It was then I realized that I would never be happy until I had Alipio for my own.

I'd been in the market for a new slave for some time, give or take a couple of years. For the longest time, none had satisfied me enough to lead me to purchase any of them. All had left me bereft of emotion, save frustration. Not since my days as a much younger man had I allowed loneliness to guide my decisions. Of course, thirty-three was by far not "old," not by any means. The air left my lungs, dissatisfied, hollow. Alipio had ruined me; I would blame him. Since first setting eyes on the man who belonged to another, I could not recall one happy moment in my life...

~***~

Stories are being posted daily and group membership continues to grow. So hop on over to Goodreads and request to join the M/M Romance group so you too can enjoy Hot Summer Days!

Bryl R. Tyne is a wrangler by nature and a writer by choice, published with Noble Romance Publishing, Ravenous Romance, Dreamspinner Press, STARbooks Press, Untreed Reads Publishing, Changeling Press, and Amber Quill Press. Check out Bryl's bi-monthly column: My Way   Find out more about the author at: bryltyne.com

This post is X-posted to Frothing Authors, Bryl R Tyne's Blog, and The Rainbow Studio.

Love Hurts...

Or so the 1975 song of the same name claims.

Of course, by definition, it's not really the love that does the hurting, but rather one's reaction to it. As the timeless lyrics of the Nazareth song suggest though, love can leave one with more of a mess to sort through than he arrived with. In my latest release, Rite of Passage, novelist John Ashley Price deals with such adversity.


In love, he did what many of us do or have done and trusted blindly, and he ended up in the aftermath of love gone wrong. Broke, penniless, and with nothing but his name, John now suffers from anxiety so strong anytime he gets near anyone "interested," he doesn't know how to cope with the adverse reactions. Just to be around a man who shows interest sends John's body into instant fight or flight mode--a panic attack.


Many of the following physical reactions are known to be felt when one experiences a panic attack:

palpitations
slow heart beat
dizziness
difficulty breathing
shaking
fear of losing control or dying
sweating, chills, hot flashes
racing thoughts
stomach pain
numbness in limbs

And John get to experience them all. I put the poor man through the wringer in Rite of Passage. But he'll learn that not all love hurts before the book is through. Take a chance. Go along with him on his journey.

 Rite or Passage by Bryl R. Tyne
 Dreamspinner Press

ISBN-13:	978-1-61581-926-3
Pages:	80
Cover Artist:	Dan Skinner/Cerberus Inc.

Blurb:


Forty-one-year-old John Ashley Price was a Western writing superstar until his accountant stole his heart—and everything else he owned. Now, unable to write and suffering from debilitating panic attacks, all he wants is to start over someplace where dropping off the radar is the norm. Someplace he won’t meet anyone. A place where writing should come easy. Hence his relocation to Divide, Colorado.

Of course, John didn’t count on Pat Smith—or Pat’s determination and raw sex appeal. Pat has his sights set on winning John’s heart as well as his trust, and he’s making serious headway… until John learns the truth. Just how does Pat know so much about him?



Excerpt:

BELLY full, I carried in enough wood to start a good fire, ran myself an extra-large glass of water, added a few ice cubes, and headed back upstairs to write.

Well, Sheriff Chad Hardy, where were we? I got comfortable, noticing the late afternoon sun out the room's single window.

You like sunsets, Chad Hardy?

He didn't, and he cemented the fact by whipping his horse around, effectively placing his back to a horizon of reds and golds.

Not even in the end? I had to ask, I mean, most cowboys rode off into the sunset at the end of my books.

No? Not even in the end. He didn't believe in sunsets.

I couldn't blame him…

…And closed my laptop, stood, stretched, wondering how in the hell Carol had gotten this desk up here. No doubt, my “neighborly neighbor” had a part to play in it. I lifted the front left corner and carried it forward and to my right until I could sit peacefully with the setting sun at my back. Less than a minute later, I was typing away.

Words turned into sentences, sentences into paragraphs, and so forth until I had two pages of what I considered “good words.” I leaned back in my chair, feeling rather smug. Fingers laced across my chest, I caught movement in the mirror opposite the room's solitary window and felt the frown that I was sure creased my forehead as I honed in on the streak of movement in the reflection….

I was on my feet, before I could think to move, and looking out my window.

Thunk!

Tracking the only movement I could see through the trees, I watched the wood split—the axe stick—he lifted the entire getup, block of wood and all, and swung it over his shoulder, then back to the stump. Three even pieces toppled to the ground in different directions.

Shirtless, the man kept a rhythm. Judging from the force and repetition of his swings, if I was closer, I was certain I would've noticed the sheen of sweat coating his skin. Through a hundred-plus yards of thinly populated trees, I spied, mesmerized.

Corded muscles drawn taut. The swing. The snap. The release. The quiver….

Okay, okay. I could see his ripped form in my mind's eye only, but I was no less content to lean on that sill and watch my neighbor from a distance. His intention was clear—at least, to me—grab the new guy's attention and keep it. I mean, who in his right mind chopped wood wearing only jeans and a cowboy hat in fifty-degree weather?

Exactly.

I broke my concentration to glance over my shoulder at my laptop, but in the next heartbeat, I was back at that window with my mind fathoms beneath any gutter.

“Well, Sheriff Hardy, looks like you've met your match.”

Sweat beaded at my temples, accumulated across the back of my neck. I adjusted the shrinking fly of my jeans, ran my tongue over dry lips; but sandpaper never moistened anything. With only one thought in mind, I leaned harder on the sill—definitely been awhile since any man’s held my interest.

Sadly, the last one I could recall by name was Mark. The excitement left my lungs in a single, solitary sigh; I even gained a bit of slack in the crotch of my jeans at the thought.

How deflating.

The more I dwelled, the tighter my chest got, and I turned away from the window. Wasn't bad, per se, that I thought of the man, but he'd affected my actions… and my reactions. Bastard had no right.

I pulled myself together, reminded myself the fewer complications the better. “Looks like you win, after all, Chad Hardy.” Time to concentrate on the one man in my life who hadn't given me a shovel full of shit.

I retook my chair, placed my fingers on the keyboard, and waited. Within seconds, I was once again typing away. Seemed all my character needed was some competition to spur him into action.

Like most of my attempts to write lately, though, this one proved a lost cause, also. I hadn't gotten a full page down when my mind drifted back to the scene outside my window. By the shadows cast on the far wall, the sun had all but disappeared, and the wood chopping had ceased a good while ago. I closed my laptop and hung my head, debating—Jim Beam or Jack Daniel’s—which one was the quickest route out of misery?

Purchase Link

Bryl R. Tyne is a wrangler by nature and a writer by choice, published with Noble Romance Publishing, Ravenous Romance, Dreamspinner Press, STARbooks Press, Untreed Reads Publishing, Changeling Press, and Amber Quill Press. Check out Bryl's bi-monthly column: My Way   Find out more about the author at: bryltyne.com

 

This post is X-posted at The Rainbow Studio, Bryl Tyne's Blog, and Frothing Authors.

 

 

Noble Romance Kindle Treasure Hunt

WELCOME TREASURE HUNTERS

Beginning on May 22nd, Noble Romance Publishing will be sponsoring a treasure hunt. Your ultimate prize will be a shiny new Kindle.

Now here's how it works:

1. You must sign up to play. Email your name and contact email address to: treasurehunt@nobleromance.com. Registrations will be accepted until May 24th.

2. On the morning of May 22nd, in each registrant's email, you will receive a play sheet, with all the instructions you'll need to join the fun.

3. Using the play sheet, you'll visit each listed author's website and spend some time checking out their back lists, while searching for a specially marked Noble Romance book cover.

4. Once you've found the book cover at each site, write down the code found beneath each book. You will need these codes to unscramble the words and win the Kindle.

5. The codes are the secret to the prize. All will be explained on the play sheet.

Along the way, you will undoubtedly find books you'd like to check out. During this treasure hunt, all books on the participating author's Noble Romance back lists will be on sale.

The aim of the game is to locate all the book covers listed and unscramble the answers to two questions.

There's no need to chase around the country looking for clues, because this is a virtual treasure hunt and everything can be done online from the comfort of your own home.

This game will tap your knowledge of the romance genre, but we promise, most every fan of romance has a more than fighting chance. However, this contest will put your wits and ingenuity to the test.

You must register by emailing your name and email address to: treasurehunt@nobleromance.com, to receive your play sheet.

Clues will be sent to each registrant on morning of May 22nd and all solutions must be emailed back to treasurehunt@nobleromance.com, no later than midnight, May 26th. You have plenty of time to find all the book covers and get to know the authors of those books.

Winner will be announced during the day on May 27th. 

The first entry picked out of the correct solutions will win a new Kindle e-reader.
Other prizes will be awarded as well, including author swag and gift cards for Noble Romance.


Void where prohibited. United States entries only please.