Let's start with you telling us a little bit about yourself.
I've acquired a new addiction—All things Pug. Still love my chickens and geese. But I don't play well with most others of my kind.
What would people be most surprised to learn about you?
That I enjoy playing piano.
When did you start writing, is it something you've always been interested in, or did it develop later in life?
When I was in school, I wrote whenever I experienced an earth-shattering moment. Once I had to fend for myself, all creative sparks ceased. Nearly thirty years later, I started writing again, and this time realized it wasn't because of some emo moment but because I wanted to and enjoyed doing it.
Has it been everything you thought it would be or not?
What I never expected was to be published, so that's cool. The hardest part is writing every day and turning out fresh stories to keep my readers happy.
How did it feel when you realized that your very first book was going to be published?
I was in shock. I'd only been taking my writing seriously for 9 months prior, so to get an acceptance letter was a surprise.
What's your favorite part of writing a book?
My favorite part is watching the story come together. I usually start with a plan, but sometimes a story or character seems to have a mind of its own and ends up completely different than what I'd planned. It's exciting when that happens.
Out of your books so far, do you have a personal favorite?
Seems whichever story I'm working on is the one that's my favorite.
Do you get time to read for pleasure? If so, which books do you enjoy?
Now and then I get a chance to read at work on my Kindle Fire. Right now, I've just started The Bones of Summer by Anne Brooke.
Are there any other genres you'd be interested in writing?
I write whatever comes up. I think I've written everything from YA to Horror. Not interested in writing chick-lit or inspirational, but eventually, I'll have written a little of everything else.
Please tell us a little about your current release.
Nothing current, but I expect that'll change soon.
What can we look forward in the future from you?
I'm working on a handful of WIPS, each at a different stage in the process. Whichever I finish first will be next, however, I'm not sure if that'll be my horror novel, my mystery series, or one of two erotic romances.
Divinity by Bryl R. Tyne
Martin Hayes has found the perfect job for a 200-year-old vampire. As the late-shift security guard for Spire Industries, he works and hunts by night and sleeps by day, hidden away in the unused cellar. Life is all so easy—nights bleeding away, weeks and months passing . . . until a new janitor disturbs the peace. Martin finds himself consumed by memories (or are they?) of red hair, freckled skin, and a man he knows but doesn't know.
Dylan Mesmer isn’t just a hot, freckled, red-haired janitor. He’s altogether too composed around Martin and never surprised by Martin’s supernatural abilities. In fact, he seems to have a few of his own. And why does he keep feeding Martin orange lollipops?
A healthy vampire has no use for candy, yet Martin cannot resist the lure. It seems he’s being baited, but to what end? And what about those visions that assail him whenever he thinks of Dylan? Their story is centuries old, but this time around, Dylan’s playing for nothing less than immortality. Eternal life—and eternal love, after a sort—is within his reach, but can he convince Martin to change his ways and commit? They may never find their way beyond the anger and the lies, but there's no denying the draw between them, and that's very much worth fighting for—even among themselves.
Rite of Passage by Bryl R. Tyne
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 for Divinity by Bryl R. Tyne
Martin came to, prick hard, fangs elongated, brain fogged, hands splayed across the ass of the man bent over the desk before him.
The man smacked the desk and pled from over the uniform shirt scrunched to his shoulders, “Don’t stop. Just do it!”
Mesmer? Backing away in a daze, Martin regained the present and registered the man as Spire Industry’s latest night janitor—a fiery carrot-top who’d stolen Martin’s attention from the moment he’d walked through Spire’s doors and into Martin’s realm.
Though tucked away in a long-abandoned corner of the basement by day, Martin took his duties as Spire’s security guard by night seriously. So why was he in this third-floor office, taking the new night janitor over a desk?
Fuck, if the man hadn’t felt and looked so damned good beneath him, down to the freckled skin Martin had had under his palms . . . It was all Martin had thought of, night and day, since setting eyes on Dylan Mesmer and the shock of carrot-orange hair that poked out in all directions from under his work cap.
Groaning, he pulled his pants up and over his painfully hard cock. What in all hells is wrong with me? Buckled his belt. All on one drawn-out exhalation.
Mesmer made a weak attempt to stand, smacking the desk again. “Damn it.”
“I don’t know what came over me . . .” And he didn’t. He would’ve used any other janitor as a light snack, lured him to the basement and satiated his more base desires weeks ago. Exhibiting control enough to do so seemed impossible around Mesmer. Lately, Martin had found himself in one compromising position after another.
“I’m not sure—” Martin met a disappointed scowl as Mesmer turned and leaned against the desk. “Look, this isn’t happening. We shouldn’t do it here, anyway. I must be out of my mind.” He had no intention of losing a job that fit his vampiric lifestyle as perfectly as working night security for Spire Industry did. Where else could he pass as human while having his meals delivered on a regular basis?
Naked from the waist down and in an obvious state of arousal, Mesmer crossed his arms with an exasperated sigh. He finally broke his glare to fix his own uniform. “It is what it is,” he said, tucking in his work shirt. “Here.” He tossed Martin a sucker.
Orange. Another sucker? Like the last two times he’d blanked out and came to seconds from driving both cock and fang into the smartass. Did the man carry a bottomless bag of delicious candy in his pocket to taunt Martin? Delicious? He held back a gag. Why the fuck had he accepted the suckers in the first place, and worse yet, why’d he eaten them? And with haste? And he’d enjoyed them!
Blood coursing through Mesmer’s body drew Martin to the here and now. What would the drawbacks be if for once he actually went through with it? Stuck the man, took his fill, like he’d done to countless others. If he didn’t hesitate, didn’t hold back or change his mind. A shudder raced over him. When had he become so fickle?
He watched Mesmer dress, wondering how this man had knocked him so far off-kilter. Normally, he’d have had the guy for a little stick, a little prick, and have deposited him back into his world, neat and tidy. But he’d been stalking Mesmer since the night the man had started at Spire . . . not to mention the repeated attempts to satisfy the man’s by-now predictable pleas for attention. Martin scoffed internally. He didn’t want to think about the strange places his mind disappeared to each time he saw Mesmer . . . or the rooms or offices he’d come back to his senses in, with Mesmer beneath him, wondering how he’d gotten there. How did this man get Martin to lose all sense of space and time?
Mind half in the past, half in the now, he adjusted his fly, eyeing Mesmer doing the same, then unwrapped the sucker and stuck it in his mouth. “What’s with you and always giving me orange candy, anyway?”
Mesmer snorted, kneeling to re-tie one of his work boots. “If you don’t want it, give it back.”
He held out his hand as he stood.
Martin gave it three seconds’ thought, his mind and body warring over whether to keep the candy or not. Giving it back would end the senseless questions, end this lack of control. Yet, no matter the logic in his thoughts, he couldn’t will his hand to remove the sucker from his mouth.
Not this time.