TOUGH GUY

Bryl R. Tyne

Coming to Amber Allure, October 31st!

Just a quick note to show you my cover for Tough Guy.

(unofficial Blurb:)

Paul Kennedy just wants to win the Wild West Days Tough Guy competition for the respect and for the purse. So why’s everyone hell bent on discouraging him? Even one cowboy Paul doesn’t realize knows him is dead set on the idea, Tough Guy champ, three-years running, Tony “You wish you had a face like mine” Austin, and he’ll go to any lengths to convince Paul that entering the event is not in his best interest.

Why’s Tony set against facing Paul in the competition?

Why does Tony Austin never take off his hat? Ever?

Why does Paul Kennedy even care?

Read the full Review Here!

Also Available: #4 in The Zagzagel Diaries: LOST

Find out more about LOST here.

Here’s a glimpse of the Waterstones Short Story Bestseller list, showing the Authors with Untreed Reads,  sent to us this morning:

#2: Girl In the Painting by Anne Brooke
#3: Bite This! by Wade J. McMahan
#6: Neighbors by Victor J. Banis
#9: The Princess of the Andes by Victor J. Banis
#10: The Secret Thoughts of Leaves by Anne Brooke
#11: Roads Through Amelia: The Beast and the Forgotten Tribesman by Joshua Calkins-Treworgy
#13: Forsaken (The Zagzagel Diaries #1) by Bryl R. Tyne
#16: Desperate (The Zagzagel Diaries #3) by Bryl R. Tyne
#18: Denial (The Zagzagel Diaries #2) by Bryl R. Tyne

…also like to point out that Joshua Calkins-Treworgy is on the Horror and Ghost Stories Bestseller List at #6 with Roads Through Amelia: The Beast and the Forgotten Tribesman. He has actually outsold STEPHEN KING. That too is a fantastic accomplishment!

Girl in the Painting is #8 on the Romantic Fiction Bestseller list, outselling such authors as Sophie Kinsella and Tami Hoag.

This could all change tomorrow. In fact, it probably already has, but right now, it’s exciting seeing my name up there. Bravo, Anne, Wade, Joshua, and Victor! Awesome writing!

Thank you, Jay & K.D. for all your diligence and hard work!

Here’s the link:

In the Heat of Summer…
http://therainbowstudio.blogspot.com/2010/08/in-heat-of-summer.html

Latest erotic release: Trey #3 Available at Noble Romance Publishing

The Zagzagel Diaries: Lost
By Bryl R. Tyne
Copyright 2010 by Bryl R. Tyne and Untreed Reads Publishing
Cover Copyright 2010 by Dara England and Untreed Reads Publishing

Untreed Reads Publishing

The angel Zagzagel finds himself under direct orders from Big Papa to do his job and not interfere with fate’s outcome for his charge Charley. Charley’s had her own share of issues and loss in her life, and Zag’s pretty sure she deserves a break this time. Unable to follow the orders from Above, Zagzagel begins to realize that he may not be able to fulfill his duties much longer. Can he help Charley find closure and peace in his own way, or is it time to give up his wings? This is Diary Entry #4 of 6.The End Is Near!

About the book:

Trey wants his job.

Read an excerpt!

Ornery                                                                                                            Wicked

(Good)                                                                                                              (Evil)

Trey #3 is a little suspenseful, a lot adventurous, and a whole lot of fun.

Here’s an excerpt:

Trey #3

by Bryl R. Tyne

Coming Soon to Noble Romance Publishing

It seemed no matter how diligently I performed my duties, how loyal or dependable I proved myself to be, I had no control over who my last three bosses hired or fired. Though I had a degree in accounting, when I landed this minimum-wage customer assistant job, I took it because I needed work, needed to keep my mind busy, active. Besides, they paid shift differential–a whole fifteen cents. Even if this shop was on the lower eastside of town, I didn’t mind my job. At least I had one–again.

Could’ve been worse, Drew reminded me, on the afternoons I slogged out his front door, dragging my dark cloud with me. I shook my head as I crouched to lockup the remaining Rolex cases. At least I had Drew . . . and yeah, I had the man right where I wanted him almost every day for the past six months, to be exact.

Bells jangled, announcing someone’s entrance. I let my ring of keys snap back to my belt. Broom in hand, I met the late customer at the jewelry counter. “We’re getting ready to–” Before me, on the other side of the counter, stood the one person I never expected to see on this side of town. “Drew?”

Why he wore sunglasses in the dead of night, I’d never understood, but he did it often. He lifted them off his nose and pushed them to his head as he stared. His mouth opening and closing like a starving goldfish, he tried to ask the one question I never wanted to hear–especially, not here, inside Jackie’s Rings and Things. “What are you doing–?”

“I work here.” Duh. I shook my head, not caring if I sounded like a PMSing bitch. “Don’t rub it in, either.”

I leaned the broom against the counter and strode to the end. Lifting the hinged door, I stepped under it and let it slam behind me. Well, I’d had Drew . . . as in, “It’s been swell,” and, “See ya later.” Exactly the reason I’d avoided telling him about my new job. A man like Drew would never understand.

He wasn’t one of those rich boys born with a silver spoon in his mouth. No. From what I knew of his lifestyle–his condo, his 2010 Dodge Charger, his ever-present bankroll–I was certain his mother had birthed him inside a bank vault. As soon as the–my boyfriend works in a pawnshop–sunk in, I’d be out of his life. There was no doubt in my mind.

Instead of the argument I’d expected though, Drew smiled–a half-hearted, odd kind of twist to his lips. He glanced behind him at the door, wiped the sweat from his forehead as he met my gaze again.

“Just say it,” I said, a little creeped out by his unpredictable reaction.

He wrung his hands together, once again eyeing the exit over his shoulder. “I-I’m looking for a ring.”

A ring? At eleven o’clock at night. “Okay. Just let me lockup first.”

“No! I’ll miss my ride . . . I know what I want.” Drew stepped to the display case of sterling rings and pointed. “Right here, in tray number three.”

Something told me I was a fool for getting my hopes up, but still, I complied, ever hopeful Drew had finally decided to commit. I returned behind the counter, unlocked the sliders, and pulled out the third tray of silver rings. “Which one did you have in mind?”

My daydream lasted all of two seconds, for as soon as I set tray number three atop the glass case, the door burst open.

Tall, dark, and ski-masked kicked it shut after he entered, and, aiming his pistol at me, shouted, “Hands in the air!”

I complied immediately, not a heroic bone in my body. He could have the entire fucking store for all I cared.

“Don’t move,” Drew whispered.

I glanced to Drew, who had yet to heed the asshole’s order, then looked back to the rapidly advancing armed robber. Put your hands up. I mouthed the words, hoping Drew would see me.

Much to my surprise, he stepped between the robber and me, whipped around, reached over the display case, and caught me around the middle. In a flash, he dragged me across the counter and onto the floor, shocking me further by manhandling me onto my stomach and binding my wrists behind my back with what felt like strips of plastic. “What the fuck are you–?”

“Just keep quiet,” he said, “and you won’t get hurt.”

Holy Christ. One side of my face pressed to the floor, I closed my eyes and started to pray. Who in the hell had I been fucking these past six months–been considering moving in with? This sure as fuck wasn’t the man I knew . . . thought I knew. My heart pounded in my ears. Hard-soled shoes came to a stop beside me, and I clenched my eyes tighter.

“Shut him up or I’ll–oh, shit.”

Oh shit, was right. I recognized that voice. Jackie’s Rings and Things would-be bandit was none other than Travon Sanders, my mother’s twenty-nine-year-old neighbor–my friend and twice-a-month fuck buddy. Well, soon to be ex-friend, along with Drew. I’d made up my mind, with a knee between my shoulders.

“You know him?” Drew asked tall, dark, and dangerous.

I could feel Travon’s stare burn into my upturned cheek. “No, man–You?” He backed away, not waiting for Drew to answer. “Just looks like a guy I used to know.”

That’s right, motherfucker . . . used to know, you sonofabitch.

Drew released the pressure on my back and then stood, yanking me to my knees. “Get up.” He pulled me to my feet as Travon helped himself to my keys and the store’s valuables.

“Prick.”

Drew backhanded me across the face; a second later, he winked. “I said, keep your mouth shut.”

Fuck you. I spat at his face, missing by a long shot. He stared at me as if I’d lost my fucking mind.

At that point, I’d already decided I had indeed lost it. Who in his right mind would attempt to build a life with a career criminal while fucking an armed robber on the side? The only one I knew crazy enough to do either stared back at me from the glass of the gun display case as Drew shuffled me behind the counter and shoved me into the first open office.

“Stay here ’til I figure out what to do with you.” He shut the door behind him.

“Bastards.” Before I stuck my dick in anyone ever again, I was hiring a P.I. to run a full background check. This was ridiculous. What were the fucking odds?

I paced the room, making two full passes before reality dawned. I stopped before the phone atop my boss’s desk, twisted to one side, and knocked the receiver out of its cradle. Craning as far as possible over my shoulder, I fumbled to push 9-1-1.

In less than ten minutes, sirens wailed and Drew burst into the room. He glared at the misplaced receiver. Three strides later, he picked it up and slammed it into the cradle. “Goddamn it, Trey!”

Can’t say I wasn’t more than a bit concerned when he whipped out a switchblade.

“Stupid do-gooder,” he mumbled, as he forced me around, pressed me against my boss’s desk, and cut me loose. “Come on.”

About then, the only thing I wanted to do was get my hands on one of those wire-ties and test out its strength on Drew’s neck. I wasn’t going anywhere, and my intentions showed in my resistance. “Fuck you. I’m not part of this.”

“Like hell, you aren’t.” Travon rounded the doorway, mask scrunched to his forehead, bags slung over both shoulders.

I turned away. Damn it.

Though I’d resolved in the last ten minutes I hated them both, I couldn’t look Travon in the face.

I’d give in. Like the time I’d drug my sorry ass to the curb to fetch my mom’s paper, only to catch the backside of Travon entering his front door with his whore of the day. Or so I thought. I had no idea who he was fucking besides me, but obviously, I didn’t care. For as soon as I heard the guy’s car pull away, I was outside . . . and so was Travon, on his front porch, looking across his yard and mine, staring–at me. I nodded; he smiled, and I found my way inside his front door and into his arms in thirty seconds flat.

Despite that little voice screaming at me not to turn around, I met Travon’s gaze. He pushed his lips forward, blew an invisible kiss my way. Not the kissy lips. Fuck. I felt Drew’s glare but adjusted the front of my jeans anyway, reluctant to break my connection with Travon. I’d blame it on tonight’s sudden rush of adrenaline . . . later.

Bad boys had always been my weakness.