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.

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.

 

 

Happy Birthday Untreed Reads!

Yep, Untreed Reads' one year anniversary is finally here! 1/29/11, marked the day Untreed Reads launched their first title, How to Eat Fruit, by the wonderful Anne Brooke, who would later go on to publish a whole bunch more with UR. Now, 365 days later (or so), Untreed Reads has over 100 titles from both new and established authors and in a wide variety of genres.


February will be a month-long celebration. Beginning February 1st, all titles will be on sale at 25% off at all of the following retailers through February 28th (in addition to The Untreed Reads Store):


1PlaceForRomance.com

AllRomanceEbooks.com

Amazon.com

AmazonUK.com

CoffeeTimeRomance.com

OmniLit.com

RainbowEbooks.com

The Sony Reader Bookstore


The following titles will be offered for free.

These titles started Untreed Reads off, and are a birthday gift to their readers:

How to Eat Fruit by Anne Brooke

The Zagzagel Diaries: Forsaken by Bryl R. Tyne

Roads Through Amelia: The Beast and the Forgotten Tribesman by Joshua Calkins-Treworgy



**The free titles are not available at all of the vendors listed above, but will be free wherever they are carried.

***Because of the sale, all Better Together bundle prices will be suspended until March 1st.

Coming Out Special

Join me for Writer's Wednesday over at Andy Frankham-Allen's The Welsh-Londoner today where I offer up my views on Writing Queer.

http://frankhamallen.wordpress.com/2010/10/13/writers-wednesday-3-coming-out-special/

In the Heat of Summer...

What better way to cool down than Cazwell and his Ice Cream Truck?

How's that working out for you? Still feel the heat? Hmm...

How about checking out my latest release, Trey #3. Maybe this m/m/m menage will help take the edge off. Maybe.

Trey #3 by Bryl R. Tyne

Noble Romance Publishing
Genre: Action/Thriller

Length: Novella

 Read an excerpt!

Buy Link

Trey wants his job.

Drew wants Trey.

Travon wants them both, but must avoid the law.

When boyfriend Drew and twice a month fuck buddy Travon decide to go in together on a local Las Cruces pawnshop heist, neither expects to find Trey working behind the counter. Funny, both Drew and Travon figured the accountant-degree-holding Trey to be a safe bet. Both are fiercely protective. None expected to meet.

With the loot bagged, the ironic love triangle exposed, and the cops on the way, what's there to do but drag Trey along for the ride?

Trey discovers sometimes choosing between the lesser of two evils is all but impossible.

That didn't work either? Guess I'm losing my touch...

Maybe next time.

Happy HOT Summer!

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, and Changeling Press.You can find out more about Bryl at: bryltyne.com

x-posted at The Rainbow Studio and Frothing Authors 

 

You ain't old, Ed. You just need to get laid...

Ed's boss seems to think so, anyway.  Don't let her opinion fool you, though. Ed's never had a problem getting what he's wanted. His problem is accepting what he gets, which in May Day, happens to be a sip from the fountain of sordid youth--two youths, to be exact. Young or 39-and-holding, you'll enjoy my latest erotic romance, May Day, available at Changeling Press.




May Day
by Bryl R. Tyne
cover art by Marteeka Karland
ISBN: 978-1-60521-452-8

Book Summary His forty-ninth birthday approaching, Ed is expecting nothing more than his usual stiff drink and an anonymous fuck in the back room of Yancy's Crossings. What he never expected was to be picked up by two college students and taken for a ride that would change his life forever.
Purchase May Day here.

Buy DESPERATE-Get 20% off FORSAKEN & DENIAL

The poor guardian angel Zagzagel. Every time he thinks he’s making progress getting his charges to accept who they are and what they want out of life one of them goes off the deep end.

In this, the third Diary entry, Zagzagel’s got his hands full again. 

This time around, his charge is having to deal with an overly-religious father, fears of going to Hell and his growing attraction to his roommate. All of this can add up to a lot of pressure on a person, and Zagzagel soon finds his charge is looking to fix the situation in a manner that’s sure to make Big Papa mighty upset. Things are looking desperate indeed…
 
If you’re new to the world of Zagzagel the Guardian Angel, you couldn’t have picked a better time to read. In honor of the release of the third short story in the series, Untreed Reads is offering a 20% discount on the first two Diary entries. You can pick up either “Forsaken” or “Denial” at the discounted price from The Untreed Reads Store, CoffeeTimeRomance.com, AllRomance.com, OmniLit.com and 1RomanceEbooks.com

You can also get the discounts at Smashwords. Use coupon code LX83V for “Forsaken” and EH67W for “Denial.” Offer expires at midnight PST on June 30th.


The Diary Entries don’t need to be read in any specific order, so enjoy them all. All titles in the series are available from most ebook retailers in the most popular formats, including the Kindle.

New Contract from Changeling Press!

Changeling Press accepted my story May Day! Not only that, I shared the winner's circle with Author Selena Blake in a contest I wasn't even aware of when I submitted. So it looks like I, along with Selena, have won a years worth of advertising at The Romance Studio also. A contract, free advertising, and one more publisher to add to my ever-expanding list . . . I'm tired just thinking about it.

Though I intended to write a more humorous story when I set out to write May Day, this one's ended up being my most angst-filled story. Not sure where this one even came from, but it will take you through a gamut of emotions, that's for sure. Here's a little teaser and excerpt to tide you over until July when May Day will be published:


May Day by Bryl R. Tyne
ISBN: 978-1-60521-452-8

(unedited teaser)

His forty-ninth birthday approaching, Ed is expecting nothing more than his usual stiff drink and an anonymous fuck in the back room of Yancy's Crossings. What he never expected was to be picked up by two college students and taken for a ride that would change his life forever.

"You ain't old, Ed. You just need to get laid."


(unedited excerpt)
 

May. For me, was the worst month of the year.

"I'm taking the rest of the week off, Sue. And no—no emergency calls." I couldn't help but notice the look she threw over the rim of her glasses. Of course, every tenant and his or her neighbor would be calling in for AC maintenance before Friday; today was only Wednesday . . . like I said, it was May. "It's my birthday tomorrow, for Pete's sake."

As the file she'd been skimming was slapped shut, I hesitated at the door. "Cut an old man some slack, would you?"

"You ain't old, Ed. You just need to get laid."

A hundred needles pierced the back of my neck and I was sure from the heat, the sudden change in color finding its way to my ears was more than noticeable. But that was Sue for you. Great boss, don't get me wrong. She just never outgrew her tomboy years. From the warmth now, filling my face, the flush was nowhere near receding. Damn my Irish complexion. With my back still toward her desk, I asked, "May I have the rest of the week off, Boss?"

Hand on the doorknob, I waited. Her silent deliberations had always irked me, but I'd paid attention enough over the years to know she needed those certain moments to think she was still in control. After all, she was my boss. If she needed something that simple to make her happy, I was more than happy to accommodate.

After clearing her throat, she voiced her decision. "I can hold down the fort until the weekend. Randy'll take it from there, but you make sure you're in ship-shape come Monday morning. You hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, opening the office door, after a pause to wonder just what she thought I did on my free time. Lord knows, forty-eight—make that forty-nine, come tomorrow—and still eligible meant only one thing. I may as well start shopping for retirement living—with a single bed. I reached over and snagged a couple brochures from the table under the curtained window on my way out. Reading material for later, of course.

"And, Ed—Edwin . . . !"

Body halfway out the door, I popped my head back inside the office. "Make sure you leave your keys at the bar." Her wink told me, either I was a fool for thinking I'd pulled the perfect ruse all these years or she was a psychic. "And, happy birthday. Now, go on. Get out of here."

* * * * *

I liked my life. I liked living alone. And I liked driving the five miles east of town to Yancy's Crossings every Friday after work. I'd grown up with old Mick, the bartender. With promise of good conversation and Yancy's mature crowd, I didn't have to worry about making myself perfectly presentable either. Once in a blue moon, though, someone would catch my eye and I'd get lucky, getting my rocks off in the back room inside some willing ass or hungry throat . . . normally, it didn't matter to me if it happened or if it didn't, as long as when it did, they were willing. With this in mind, I brushed my teeth and reapplied some fresh deodorant that I'd pulled from the whore bag stashed behind the seat of my truck.

Of course, this wasn't Friday night, but I'd had this ominous shadow niggling me for the past two weeks reminding me, I wasn't getting any younger. I wasn't concerned with what special Yancy may be throwing or who the crowd may be; I'd had a hard week, I consoled myself, as I pulled into the lot, killed my Ford pickup's engine, threw my gear behind the seat, exited and locked my truck. I needed to unwind and in the worst way.
From the looks of the parking lot, the place was busier than a hornet's nest too. Real quick, I ran my fingers through my normally unkempt hair then replaced my hat adjusting it as I kicked the dust from my boots on my way inside.

Hadn't had a chance to get used to the lack of daylight when Mick hollered at me from over the bar. "Ed, my man!" Shoving his dishtowel inside a glass, he grinned as I sidled up and took a seat. "Don't tell me, is it Friday already?"

I shook my head and asked for the usual. He got busy getting my Jack and Coke—hold the ice. Highball glasses were for pussies. The place felt odd, with so many empty seats lining the bar, but I paid it no mind. Tonight, two things were all I wanted—a stiff drink in one hand and, if I got lucky, a stiff dick in the other. Either order would do too . . . Hank Williams blared from the speakers as I glanced around the place noting a much younger crowd than I was used to seeing . . . about now, I could really use that drink.

"Rough week, eh?" Instead of sliding the glass onto the bar, Mick handed me my whiskey. Good man. He knew me well enough to know I was more than a bit uncomfortable amongst tonight's patrons.

I no sooner downed it when a kid no older than one of my nephews wearing all black and with an earring through the corner of his upper lip squeezed up to the bar beside me. "Dude." His gaze meeting mine, he offered a hesitant smile, then motioned for Mick's attention. "Where's the can?"

Mick pointed behind the bar and to his right, and the kid was gone.

Harder than intended, I slammed my glass on the counter. "Pour me another."

After removing my hat, I pulled out my hanky and dabbed the sweat from my forehead. Mick's turn to shake his head. He handed me a refill, still wearing that shit-eating grin of his. "Ain't nothing funny with this old man, Mick." I downed the glass he'd just handed me in two gulps. I hadn't caught sight of anyone close to my age yet. Looked like, whether I wanted to admit it or not, if I happened to get lucky tonight, I'd be robbing somebody's cradle. I set the empty on the bar and motioned for yet another refill.

Link to May Day at Changeling Press coming soon page

New Release: DENIAL

The Zagzagel Diaries: Denial by Bryl R. Tyne

Cover Photo by Ilja Wanka, Fonts by Dara England, Copyright 2010 Untreed Reads Publishing

The guardian angel Zagzagel returns to save another of his charges, this time a young woman selling herself on the streets instead of saving herself for love. This is Book 2 of The Zagzagel Diaries series.

Available in multiple ebook formats – get your copy of The Zagzagel Diaries: Denial by clicking on this link:

http://www.untreedreads.com/?page_id=1164

Forsaken

Thought about suicide. Again.

Not of my own . . . not that the thought's never crossed my mind, but no. I got news that my short story, Forsaken, was accepted by Untreed Reads Publishing. Naturally, I beamed but then recalled the story's subject and again, I remembered the suicide of a young man barely out of his teenage years. When this youth's untimely death came back to me all these years later, I fashioned a story from the memories. This was months ago.

The incident, actually, happened eleven and a half years ago. Such terrible loss . . .

Couldn't help but think, maybe all it would've taken to change the course of history, to talk that boy off that high-rise ledge, to even know he was heading up there in the first place, may have been as simple as picking up the phone when you recognized the young man's number on the caller I. D. Maybe. What ifs suck, sometimes.

Sadly, suicide is one of the most common issues GLBT youth deal with. I have a friend who, as a tender youth, discovered she was Lesbian . . . Being raised Southern Baptist and being Lesbian didn't play out in her mind. Out came the pills, the razor blades, and the booze. If I recall correctly, she was stopped only by a vision of her younger sister crying in agony. Unfortunately, the young man, who I also knew, didn't have anyone or anything to stop him from carrying out his most desperate plea.

He tried to reach out, seek help, seek some sort of comfort, after realizing he was gay. But he was shunned by family, friends, and even a few in the GLBT community he approached. "I-I thought he was coming on to--I didn't realize, he just needed someone to listen, affirm. . ." That was the reasoning, I was told.

Would've, should've, could've--not trying to push the blame on anyone. Hell, I'm probably just as guilty for I too didn't recognize the signs, when around him. We can't change what's done.

Wouldn't it be awesome though, if each one of us had someone there, a guardian angel perhaps, to help us in such a time of need? But that's wishful thinking. Though times have changed and people are far more accepting of the GLBT community, still, more often than not, GLBT youth succumb to suicidal thoughts. And more often than not, it is because they are forsaken by everyone around them . . . or at least, they feel as if they are.

In fiction, well, that's a whole different story. Literally. Having the incident come back to me during the Winter holidays, I chose to tackle the issue . . . but from a different angle, through the eyes of a guardian angel; and as with fiction, I gave my story a fairytale ending. Forsaken will be out this month at Untreed Reads Publishing. I invite you to check it out.

Bryl R. Tyne is a wrangler by nature and a writer by choice, published with Noble Romance Publishing, Ravenous Romance, Dreamspinner Press, STARbooks Press, and Untreed Reads Publishing. You can find out more about Bryl at: bryltyne.com

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

Holiday of Love . . . Unrequited

Unrequited love, oh yes, we've all felt its sting.

When your friends point out that you're crushing on your straight neighbor or co-worker, do you deny it? Worse yet, do you inwardly swoon from that celebratory slap on the ass that gets you all worked up, when your obviously heterosexual tennis buddy just can't seem to contain his excitement in the win? What if the tables were turned?

I'm uncertain how the majority of heterosexuals would react if their Gay or Bi friend made a pass or let a fragment of what one was feeling slip. I could only hope it would be favorably . . . indifferent, at best, though I have my own experiences to prove otherwise.

I think my self-proclaimed "straight boy" is the exception. At least, I'm proud of his actions and reactions in the face of such advances. One recent event had me a bit troubled for the "other guy," though. Seems our Zack is quite the charmer.

Out of three adult boys . . . I guess, that would be, young men . . . Zack ended up straight (poor thing). But that hasn't slowed the onslaught of wanna-be beaus. I just didn't realize he was so desirable to such a wide array of candidates, until I discovered "the love letter". Seems, one of his best friends from high school has taken a liking to Zack, and unlike me (and I'm sure, many of you), this friend is far from, shall we say . . . shy about his intentions.

"You have a boyfriend?!" It's not every day that your straight son shows you a love letter from a guy; I had to ask.

"Another wanna-be," he told me.

"You have more than one chasing you?"

"Well . . . yeah. Just not all guys."

"Oh."

To speed things up, Zack informed me that he wanted to let the guy down easy, because he didn't want to hurt his feelings. I thought that was kind of lame, but to each his own way. Come to find out, the young man in question is one of Zack's best friends and Zack did not want to stop being friends, just wasn't sexually interested in the guy.

"What are you going to do, then?"

"Dunno," he told me, matter of factly.

"So . . . think maybe you're--"

"No. He's just a really nice guy. I'm straight."

"Okay."

Anyway, Zack spent the good part of the last month and a half on the phone every night with his friend/wanna-be more-than-friend. I did question whether or not he thought he was doing the right thing by not being straightforward as I'd hate for him to lead the guy on only to crush his feelings in the end. Zack assured me he was handling the situation the best way he saw fit.

In the end, Zack's friend came out of the ordeal unscathed--almost. "I'll just have to get over you, I guess" were his friend's words--or so Zack informed me later.

"Still friends?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"You handled that well," I told him. "Weirded out by it or anything?" My curiosity to know what was going on inside got to me.

"Nah," he said. "I look at it like this: I got both girls and guys chasing me."

"Yeah?"

"I must be that good."

My only thought: Well, the apple certainly didn't fall far from the tree there.

Anyway, here's a little candy I snagged online (can't remember where, but if you recognize it, give me a shout so I can credit you).

Have a wonderful Valentine's Day!

Bryl R. Tyne is a wrangler by nature and a writer by choice, published with Noble Romance Publishing, Ravenous Romance, Dreamspinner Press, and STARbooks Press. You can find out more about Bryl at: bryltyne.com

This post is X-posted to Frothing Authors and The Rainbow Studio.

Boys of the Bite a Top Pick at Night Owl Reviews!

4.75 out of 5 stars!

Boys of the Bite is an Anthology that explores the gay male side of vampire mythology. Stories from R.R. Angell to Bryl R. Tyne give us a different and alluring aspect to the sexy and beautiful vampires we know and crave. From modern vampires to vampires in our history you will be locked into these stories feeling as if you are there with them. Each one has its own alluring taste of blood and flesh but with a sexy side that is sure to appease any vampire fan. -- Zollyanna@Night Owl Reviews

The Allure of the Tattoo

Some tattoos are worn to symbolize the individual, some to boast, label, or revere individual characteristics, circumstances, or people in the person's life. And I'd venture (though not speaking with expertise on the subject) some are even used by gangs.

But what is the allure? What do we find so intriguing about a faded anchor, entwined with a thorny rose, inscribed with the name, Lulu? Or any of the elaborate tribal bands that encircle biceps or calves, the Kanji symbols adorning the backs of necks, or the assortment of colorful spreads of flowery designs and mythical creatures spread shoulder-to-shoulder or hip-to-hip that we must inquire their origins from the owners?

In one of my current WIPS, my surfer turned P.I. sports quite a number of distinctive tats himself, because that is who he is, at least according to him. I never stopped to ask him why, though I know how and when, he got them. If I think about it, I've never inquired but simply admired quite a number of beautiful tattoos in my life, never questioning any owner . . . until now.

Now . . . well, last week to be more precise, when an eight year old little boy came crying off the school bus, rushed into the house—then into the bathroom to furiously scrub away at his face, neck, hands and arms with some funky concoction of rubbing alcohol and baby oil. When I inquired to the reason for his behavior, he simply replied through the tears that he didn't want to get kicked out of school and . . . "I think we need more baby oil."

Apparently, his four packages of child's vanity tattoos that he so proudly pulled from his Christmas stocking and later splayed over and across nearly every inch of available skin, trying in vain to impersonate a number of characters at once from the Anime, Naruto, didn't go over well with the teachers. He had violated "dress code," his teacher had told him. The tats had to go or he'd be suspended.

Cut the kid some slack, I thought. For Christ's sake, he's a child—a little boy ecstatic about a simple (and cheap) gift, who wanted nothing more than to enjoy it. They'd gotten my attention. My hackles were raised. I couldn't recall reading anything about tattoos in the school's dress code. I sat down with David and we looked it up.

Never mind that tattoos of any kind are not addressed in the code, and never mind that the code does not apply to Third graders or younger, the disclaimers were obvious and clear. "An item of dress, article of clothing, or accessory should not be deemed 'approved' simply because it is not listed herein" . . . and "The administration reserves the right to address inappropriate clothing on an individual basis in all grades."

According to the teacher, David was being disruptive, drawing attention to himself, distracting class.

Oh, the mystical allure of the tattoo . . . .

Such power to command every gaze in a room. I think next year, I'll have Santa put ten packages of those "apply-with-a-damp-rag" tats inside the boys' stockings.

Bryl R. Tyne is a wrangler by nature and a writer by choice, published with Noble Romance Publishing, Ravenous Romance, Dreamspinner Press, and STARbooks Press. You can find out more about Bryl at: bryltyne.com

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

New Holiday Free Read...

...posted on my website.

New Year's Eve has never been predictable. Just ask star quarterback, Martin Berman.

http://bryltyne.com/2009/12/free-holiday-read/

5 Cups from Coffee Time Romance!

Thank you, Regina, from Coffee Time Romance & More. She loved the book!
Here's a link to her review: http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/coinoperatedboy.html

Gangbangs, Dildos, and Tie-downs - Oh my!

Top-10 Sexual Fantasies: Your turn to fess up!

Sex is as old as... All right, sex never gets old, only we do (please, don't remind me). Sex, as a concept, though, has been alive longer than most species, hence, the "which came first" argument. Sexual fantasy surely sprung to life shortly thereafter. The truth is, since time began, men and women have fantasized their respective ways into many a satisfying orgasm. One can find page after online page of Top-10 sexual fantasies for both men and women. Obviously, we all do it—fantasize, that is.

Even us LGBT... folk.

But, I've yet to come across a Top-10 online list for any of us. Maybe I'm not perusing the correct venues. If so, someone point the way!

I am curious, however, since I'm considered in both, the sexual AND gender minorities, are my fantasies "abnormal" according to head docs and/or societal norms?

I mean, hasn't everyone fantasized, for example, surprising your straight neighbor in his laundry room only to coax him over his washing machine while on the heavy-duty spin cycle? (Okay, maybe that's just me). But, maybe, you've pined for your UPS guy to invite you into his truck to personally help your with your package? Or maybe, you've fantasized about shopping with your BFF, only to have her lend you a hand in the dressing room? (Maybe, not)

Time to share your most private thoughts. What turns you on?

What are your sexual fantasies?

Email your fantasies to Top10SexualFantasy@gmail.com

Anonymous emails accepted—preferred. (Please only specify - sexuality & gender of person leaving poll data)

Your privacy will be respected. All information - name, age, sex, email, location, etc. - will be kept confidential.

At the start of the new year, Top-10 lists for everyone across the LGBT Spectrum will be posted on my site for all eternity to drool over.

Let's show them what we want!

Bryl R. Tyne

Top10SexualFantasy@gmail.com

Bryl R. Tyne is a wrangler by nature and a writer by choice, published with Noble Romance Publishing, Ravenous Romance, Dreamspinner Press, and STARbooks Press. You can find out more about Bryl at: bryltyne.com

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

Friday Flash Fiction

Flash Fiction every Friday on my Author's Blog! All writers welcome to join in. In the meantime, stop by and read my free flash this week ~ Lleva una Pistola!

Taste of VAMMP: Conquering Dissension

BOYS OF THE BITE, a Gay Vampire Anthology

edited by Cecilia Tan

ISBN 9-781-60777-178-4

Ravenous Romance

VAMMP: Conquering Dissension by Bryl R. Tyne

Excerpt:

Alan awoke as his Darrel dreams grew erotically vivid. With a groan, he rolled to the side and came to an abrupt stop. His tented boxers sufficed as a kickstand. Alan stared into the blackness. Four hours of rest had healed his abilities some. His hearing seemed keener, and he picked up curious sounds. It was a resonance he welcomed, as it heightened to a fiery boil the blood Darrel had stirred but left unsatisfied. Alan slid from the bed, donned clean jeans and T-shirt from his duffel, and crept into the dimly lit hallway.

He would bypass Darrel’s room. Instead of taking the stairs down, Alan tiptoed further into the hall until he found a narrow staircase. He climbed each step with stealth, reached the third level, and took four strides to his left. Half a set of French doors unlatched and opened easily, and he stepped out onto the balcony.

Darkness called to him. Like an addict, each wanton cry carried on the wind beckoned him. As unbridled lust worked its magic, the night’s raw bawdiness mesmerized him, drew him. He scaled the balcony’s railing and alit on the hillside with the finesse of a cat. As if bewitched, he followed the intoxicating moans.

Less than a mile from the house, he sniffed the breeze and pinpointed the aroma of intimacy. Moonlight cast a surreal eeriness upon the source, a stable set low in a valley. Anticipation raced through his veins as he descended a ridge, closing the distance to satisfaction. Cock stiff and ready for action, Alan focused on the orange glow that illuminated the coarseness of rough-cut siding and swept closer.

He needed no further inspection. Already having deciphered the throaty grunts and quickened heart rates minutes ago, he’d determined the situation beyond this barrier involved sweat, sex, and men. One rap on the metal-banded wood yielded a gorgeous, half-naked hunk fastening his jeans. “¿Hola. Qué quieres?”

Hmm, an open door... All the invitation Alan wanted. As his greeter swiped damp locks from his face, Alan drank in the man’s sweat-moistened, bronze chest, fixating on a droplet winding through fine dark hairs splayed over work-formed pecs. With a wry grin and a lift of one brow, Alan locked eyes with the man, who invited Alan inside without further question.

Alan followed the man up wooden slats to a loft, noting how the light from two turned down lanterns cast perfect shadows on the man’s rounded, jean-covered ass. With flannel shirt in hand, the man’s partner stood and made a clumsy attempt to hide his pale and freckled nakedness as Alan cleared the ladder. Spanish undertones rose in decibels, as the man, who’d allowed Alan inside, tried to convince his friend of Alan’s harmlessness. Alan stepped nearer to offer his vote, and smirked at the men’s hungry gazes running the course of his body, delighted when they hesitated on the bulge in his jeans.

“You’re Master Darrel’s friend, right?” the paler of the two men asked.

Steamy Stories from other contributors in BOYS OF THE BITE:

Wanting Needing Having by R. R. Angell

To Be Beloved by Pepper Espinoza

Lost in Translation by TammyJo Eckhart

The Love of a Faithful Servant by Teresa Noelle Roberts

The Cold Color of the Heart by Eric Del Carlo & Amber Jayne Dodd

The Sin Eater’s Prince by Keta Diablo

The Conservative Dark by Connor McKay

The Last Brother by Ken Panadero

The Devil’s Half Acre by Ryan Field

Available in eBook from Ravenous Romance

BOYS OF THE BITE is out at Ravenous Romance!

My VAMMP: Conquering Dissension is just one of the many hot and wanton gay vampire stories of lust and desire available in Cecilia Tan's BOYS OF THE BITE gay vampire anthology at Ravenous Romance!

About Boys of the Bite:

Vampires are ever young, ever beautiful, and ruled by the cravings of the flesh. In Boys of the Bite, the gay male side of the vampire's legend is explored in every erotic possibility. From historical settings where vampires move through high society to modern vamps you find at the all-night laundromat, these lusty men know how to hunt, whether for love or just a midnight snack.

Mixing stories by gay male authors like R. R. Angell and Bob Panadero with some of Ravenous Romance's stars of m/m romance like Keta Diablo and Ryan Field, Boys of the Bite gives every reader plenty to get his or her blood pumping.

Contributors & stories include:

Wanting Needing Having by R. R. Angell

To Be Beloved by Pepper Espinoza

Lost in Translation by TammyJo Eckhart

The Love of a Faithful Servant by Teresa Noelle Roberts

The Cold Color of the Heart by Eric Del Carlo & Amber Jayne Dodd

The Sin Eater's Prince by Keta Diablo

The Conservative Dark by Connor McKay

The Last Brother by Ken Panadero

The Devil's Half Acre by Ryan Field

VAMMP: Conquering Dissension by Bryl R. Tyne <--- Moi ;)

Read an excerpt Buy the book!

Two Lips Reviews Anniversary Scavenger Hunt

Starting today through August 31st, find all the Two Lips’ icons on participating sites!

For the rules and a pic of what you’re looking for Click here!