Bryl R. Tyne's Blog, page 4
August 13, 2011
Might as well be….
It's only a little past midnight as I write this first blog post on my new site. I'm melancholy as hell. Tired? Defeated? Turned on my music and found the song I can't seem to get out of my head.
Might as well be 3:00 a.m. Think I'll blame this feeling on my new editors. See what y'all have done to me? Bah!
August 12, 2011
Hello world!
Welcome to WordPress. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!
August 8, 2011
On book reviews…
It's nice to read what reviewers have to say about an author's book, and to see all the different takes readers/reviewers can come away with. But it's always exceptionally nice when one of my characters resonates with a reader. That said, I'll point out the latest review of Rite of Passage from Literary Nymphs:
Rose Nymph says, "Rite of Passage is all about John Price. Such a strong character, his constant narrative stream is impossible to escape; every neurosis is laid bare and explained in such a way that you cannot help but want to protect him and learn more about him. He is, by no means, perfect but I defy anyone to read this and not see a glimpse of themselves or someone they love in him…" Read the full review here!
Share and Enjoy:
August 3, 2011
Great Review for Rite of Passage!
[image error]Miz Love and Crew Loves Books gave Rite of Passage a top pick award!
Review by Miz C. Zampa:
Anxiety is love's greatest killer. It makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you. You want to save him, but you know he will strangle you with his panic. —Anais Nin
The Anais Nin quote above just fit Bryl R. Tyne's novella, Rite of Passage, to a 'T'.
Check out the rest of the review here: http://www.mizlovelovesbooks.com/2011/08/rite-of-passage-by-bryl-r-tyne.html
Share and Enjoy:
July 20, 2011
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, The Rainbow Studio, and Defying Description.
Share and Enjoy:
July 15, 2011
Jimmy Thomas Cover Contest winner Chantal Smith's Breaking Anthony is complete!
Chantal submitted a story idea in the Noble Romance Jimmy Thomas cover contest and was one of the winners! Her story, Breaking Anthony, is finished!
Anthony is officially "broken" by the end of the story, just as she wanted. I do hope she likes the story and her cover as much as I do. I'm finishing up winner #2's story, Celestial Dawn, while waiting on cover art for story idea winner, Sarina Hermann. As soon as I have that one done, I'll post a snippet here for you to enjoy.
[image error]
Breaking Anthony
Chantal S-A Smith & Bryl R. Tyne
Breaking Anthony (c) 2011 Chantal S-A Smith & Bryl R. Tyne
Blurb:
One can take only so much pushing without pushing back. Questioned, accused, misrepresented, falsely persecuted for injustices not my own . . . I'd survived them all, along with each attempt to break my will—the majority from people claiming to be closest to me or having my best interests in mind, thanks to my parents' untimely accident. Not that I remembered the event further than recollections in decade's old newspaper clippings.
Few details were spared me from the various family members who took turns taking me in, passing me around, though, . . . reminding me I'd never amount to anything, and when one looks at a pair of lives like my parents that ended prematurely because of negligence with a Bunsen burner, the outcome doesn't look promising at all.
In nineteen short years, the one thing I had learned to accept was that others see things—see me—from individual perspectives. All of them skewed, bent, twisted in personal ways only the owner could decode. That was okay. Admittedly, I took a certain amount of pride in ensuring I left them all wrong in their assessments. Problems arose, escalated with a bit of stoking, and I got the blame, earned or not.
I coped.
This year, I'd decided, I was done coping.
Breaking Anthony excerpt:
Ten o'clock and I'd unplugged for the night, showered, and had just crawled into bed when I heard the door open and shut softly. Anthony stumbled inside, in the dark. Practice must've run long.
Eyes adjusted to the near non-existent glow of Anthony's baseball plug-in nightlight in the foyer, I watched him toe off his shoes and pad across the room on the other side of his bed and into the bathroom, where he shut the door quietly behind him and flipped on the light. He was seldom this late getting in, since he got up every day and went running by five in the morning, but it had happened on occasion. Though I tended to be more of a night owl, I'd adjusted to his schedule. Wasn't part of coping, I reminded myself, it was just part of making my life easier—if it happened someone else benefited, well, that wasn't so bad, right?
Water cascaded in the background as I sighed, rolled over, envisioned Anthony's dark skin glistening under the shower's heat, and, with a punch to my pillow, I rolled back over, facing the bathroom door. His long, naturally curled lashes would flutter under the water, while he ran his calloused hands over every inch of sculpted muscle his young body had acquired over the years . . . I recalled the many times I caught his beautiful gaze on me as he stared in stone silence. Gah! Who was I kidding? Anthony was hot, and I had it bad for him: a guy who'd evolved to so far out of my league, I'm surprised he gave me the time of day . . . most days he didn't, come to think of it. But I had few complaints. Maybe my one defiant act of super-gluing his laptop to his desk that first week had him keeping his opinions to himself; I didn't know, but he seemed to back off his high horse.
The bathroom door opened with a sudden jerk, and I clenched my eyes shut against the sight of the beefed up dark body I remembered so well silhouetted in a steamy glow, towel draped haphazardly about his hips.
"Did you really mean that . . . what you said today? When you said you don't mind helping me?"
Great. Stealth-like I dragged the sheet between my knees, shifted conspicuously against the discomfort from the stiff material passing over my hard-on, and acted as if he'd just awakened me—even faked a yawn. "Yeah. Sure." I rolled over. Again. This time, more agonized. "You scratch my back . . . you know how it goes. Now, get some sleep."
* * * * *
I never expected to wake with my arms full of Anthony Gayle.
His legs tangled in my sheets, enveloping mine; his arms around me, clinging to me, his warm breath in my face, and—
"Please, Shane." The familiar words hung on the air between us, moments before his lips covered mine.
He held me enthralled, the touch of his mouth tentative at first, then hungrier, more eager, as if he was pleading for my acceptance . . . for my forgiveness
Like I would've thrown him out of my bed . . . .
Well, to be honest, that thought had crashed into my mind at the abrupt awakening, but the yearning in his whisper, the gentleness behind those soft lips, the promise of things I'd known only long ago, somehow directed my arms to move and pull him even closer, hold him a little tighter. And I tasted him deeply before coming up for air and asking, "Have you lost your mind?"
What else could my I'm-way-too-good-for-you former-foster brother crawling into my bed, seducing me in the middle of the night possibly mean?
In the dark, I could feel his unsure stare questioning me even before he spoke the words. "Tell me you don't want this," he said, slipping a hand strategically beneath the sheet and between my knees and moving along my thigh and up and—
Yeah. Just like that.
One would think with my street smarts I would've known better than to get mixed up with someone from the ring of guys Anthony hung out with—and I did, but in certain situations, my body betrayed all logic. Anthony's warm breath crossing my right cheek told me this was one of those situations.
Still, I fought what had always felt so damned natural around him. Dirty diapers . . . the smell of cat food . . . . I tried thinking of anything but the smell of his Axe shampoo or the Polo Blue he wore daily—and nightly, too, my senses assured me, as he placed wet kisses across my throat before venturing lower.
I lifted the sheet, invited all of him nearer.
Half a scoot and a slide of legs later, and Anthony once again put himself in my arms. His lips returned to mine, and all I could find strength to do was to yield. Warmer hands or a surer touch had never caressed me. He seemed to know what he wanted and how to get it. Still, I wondered if he was aware exactly where this was leading. Was he awake? Sober? "Are you sure you—?"
"I'm sure," he said, between the kisses dotting my chest and my stomach.
A strong hand stroked my prick as warm, wet lips encircled the head. I groaned, aching, pressing into his touch, deeper into his mouth. I liked a guy who knew what he wanted, and my hands gripped him firmly behind the ears, ensuring he wasn't changing his mind. "Fucking . . . great."
Congrats, Chantal! Enjoy!
Share and Enjoy:
July 7, 2011
Guest Blog: Rachel Haimowitz Where He Belongs
Today I'm hosting author Rachel Haimowitz and her new release, Where He Belongs, the latest in her twisted Belonging-verse. Leave a comment and she'll draw names on Monday for an ebook copy of Anchored (worldwide) or a bunch of Belonging-verse swag (US/Canada only) to one commenter at random.
[image error]
The hottest name in network news is Daniel Halstrom. He is a sensation, a rising star. He is also a slave, owned wholly and completely by NewWorld Media.
But before he was a star, he was a frightened child from a bad place with a promising, if limited, future ahead of him. In "The New Kid," young Daniel begins his schooling. Then, for a slave, the simple pleasure of a "Bathroom Break" is sometimes the only pleasure to be had. Later, Daniel doesn't know it, but "A Chance Encounter" might be the most important of his life. Next, in "Camera Obscura," one of Daniel's colleagues reflects on the fact that as much as the camera may show, it can hide even more. Finally, when you're a slave, "Independence Day" is just another day.
Available at Storm Moon Press.
* * * * *
Daniel, the protagonist in Anchored: Belonging and my new release, Where He Belongs, is a slave. A question that comes up frequently from readers is how exactly people become slaves in the Belonging world. There are four routes, and believe it or not, one's entirely voluntary.
The first three routes are not, though. You can, like Daniel, have been born into slavery. Status follows the mother, so if your mom is a slave but your dad isn't, guess what—you're a slave. If your dad's a slave and your mom isn't? Lucky you; you're a freeman.
You can also be convicted into slavery. Some sentences—most life sentences, for example—are automatic convictions into lifetime slavery. Others offer a choice: a prison term, or a much shorter term "in service."
The third way in is through debt. If you've put yourself up as collateral against a loan and fail to pay, your bank might come calling. And guess what they'll be taking? Yeah, you.
As for the fourth way—the voluntary way—well, allow me to step back and let this website ad speak for itself:
The Most Important Decision You'll Ever Make . . .
Each year, over 20,000 U.S. citizens voluntarily conscribe themselves into service. There is no shame in this life course; to the contrary, voluntary conscription is among the most noble and responsible of acts.
U.S. law provides for a large number of slave services and protections. If you conscribe, you'll . . .
[image error]
Never have to face the specter of malnutrition
Never have to wonder where you'll sleep each night
Never have to worry about paying bills again
Receive comprehensive healthcare
Be able to unbury your loved ones from mounds of debt
Escape the vicious cycle of poverty and crime
Earn self-worth and self-respect as a valued and contributing member of society—even if you have no education!
Receive a sign-on bonus for your next of kin (or recipient of choice) of up to $500,000!
Conscription is a difficult and lifelong choice. Let us help you make it.
Click here to read our testimonials from voluntarily conscripted slaves!
* * * * *
To learn more about the world of Belonging, visit BelongingVerse.com. To learn more about the works of Rachel Haimowitz, please visit her website or blog.
Remember to leave a comment for your chance to win!
Share and Enjoy:
June 8, 2011
Love Hurts…
Or so the 1975 song of the same name claims. [image error]
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?
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, Defying Description, and Frothing Authors.
Share and Enjoy:
June 1, 2011
Beneath Me available at Dreamspinner
BENEATH ME, my contribution to Dreamspinner's 2011 Summer Daily Dose, is out today for individual purchase. Here's the link to check it out: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2347
Share and Enjoy:
May 20, 2011
Noble Romance Kindle Treasure Hunt
[image error]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.[image error]
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.
Share and Enjoy:
