Hagen and his surviving team members must sneak into the castle and devise a way to destroy the experimental labs creating diabolical creatures. Hagen is horrified to find Nazis and scientists with no scruples, and at the most inconvenient time, he learns that he may be in love with one of his teammates, an Irishman named Liam. In order to protect his love and his friends, Hagen must feign nonchalance amidst pure degeneracy and suspicion. Hagen soon discovers, though, that he is in over his head.
What may not only redeem him, but also save his lover and friends, is a childhood past and a darkness lurking deep inside him, just waiting to be engaged.
After a morning of grueling physical training, Hagen and Liam were given a brief period of free time. The Irishman took Hagen on a hike from the airfield to a local hole-in-the-wall Irish pub as promised and bought both of them a Guinness, along with fish and chips.
Hagen bought them a second round. Liam got them a third.
Hagen and Liam returned from their beer and meal, both of them tipsy from one too many pints. They walked close to one another as Liam spoke of his home and the girls he'd slept with or turned away. The Irishman was a natural storyteller, and Hagen laughed several times at the clever turn of words he chose. Liam's thick accent had a calming rhythm though Hagen did get distracted when he used peculiar words for commonplace items. Hagen had to explain that Americans referred to breakfast pork as sausages, not bangers; and that it was kiss, not snog; nude rather than nip; and Americans said trunk, not boot.
Reaching the edge of the airbase, Liam suggested they climb up onto a hangar that was in disuse and watch the planes fly overhead. On the rooftop Liam pulled his shirt over his head and Hagen gazed at his flat stomach with a trail of light colored hair extending from his waistline to his chest. Hagen looked away as Liam glanced towards and he followed Liam's lead by removing his top as well. Liam had lay down and his attention was fixed on Hagen; he patted the surface next to him. "Come on boyo."
Liam did not have the pale white skin like the English. It was olive, and he'd tanned recently. He had a well-formed chest; his hands were under his head and his biceps bulged. Hagen laid down next to him and the Irishman turned to him, and his emerald eyes met Hagen’s.
A crooked smile formed and Liam said, "I'm zonked after that beer. You?"
Hagen chuckled and gazed up in the sky. "I have no idea what zonked is, but if it means anything like being sleepy, then yes."
Liam did not say anything so Hagen glanced over. Liam stared at him with intensity, and some emotion lurked deeper. What, Hagen did not know. But it reminded him of a hungry man who just spied a fragrant pot roast.
The corners of Liam's mouth curled up. "Your eyes. They're peculiar."
"How's that?"
He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, speaking in a soft voice. "They're like the Irish Sea on a stormy night. An ocean-green one moment, then blue the next. Very peculiar." He then fell asleep, and Hagen stared at him for a few more moments before lying on his back and taking his own afternoon nap.
Upon waking, they went to dinner. Hagen was surprised by the uncertain new feelings that he’d noticed during the afternoon. He wanted to spend more time with the animated young Irishman and listen to that soothing accent. He didn't want the time to end, and wished to postpone whatever mission was coming.
After dinner, Liam said it was time, so they grabbed their gear from their bunks and headed to the hangar to be briefed on their mission. It occurred to Hagen that, within a few hours, he would be flying over the English Channel and on to some mission that would take him into Germany. The hangar was vacant when they arrived, and the Night Angel faced them with the belly gun turret having been completely installed.
Liam took a cigarette from his pack and offered Hagen one, but he hesitated. Father would disapprove. He looked at Liam's face and took one, though, and Liam lit both.
"You have any girls back home?" Liam asked, his jade gaze aimed at him, his lips pursed over his cigarette.
Hagen drew in smoke, coughed, and shook his head; his eyes watered and he said, "Dated a couple. But no takers." Hagen put his arm up to his mouth, feeling another fit of coughs coming.
Liam leaned against the hangar door and stared up into the sky. The sun was starting to set. "Broke a couple lasses' hearts meself. A couple of them had some knockers." Liam looked over to Hagen and laughed. "Oh, right, you call them boobs." He inhaled and spoke after exhaling. "And please, Jaysus, I hope I never put one up the pole."
The ends of Hagen's mouth turned down, and he slid his hand through his blond hair. "The what?"
Liam chuckled and took a drag on his cigarette. "Oh, you Yanks say pregnant."
"Oh, right."
Hagen bought them a second round. Liam got them a third.
Hagen and Liam returned from their beer and meal, both of them tipsy from one too many pints. They walked close to one another as Liam spoke of his home and the girls he'd slept with or turned away. The Irishman was a natural storyteller, and Hagen laughed several times at the clever turn of words he chose. Liam's thick accent had a calming rhythm though Hagen did get distracted when he used peculiar words for commonplace items. Hagen had to explain that Americans referred to breakfast pork as sausages, not bangers; and that it was kiss, not snog; nude rather than nip; and Americans said trunk, not boot.
Reaching the edge of the airbase, Liam suggested they climb up onto a hangar that was in disuse and watch the planes fly overhead. On the rooftop Liam pulled his shirt over his head and Hagen gazed at his flat stomach with a trail of light colored hair extending from his waistline to his chest. Hagen looked away as Liam glanced towards and he followed Liam's lead by removing his top as well. Liam had lay down and his attention was fixed on Hagen; he patted the surface next to him. "Come on boyo."
Liam did not have the pale white skin like the English. It was olive, and he'd tanned recently. He had a well-formed chest; his hands were under his head and his biceps bulged. Hagen laid down next to him and the Irishman turned to him, and his emerald eyes met Hagen’s.
A crooked smile formed and Liam said, "I'm zonked after that beer. You?"
Hagen chuckled and gazed up in the sky. "I have no idea what zonked is, but if it means anything like being sleepy, then yes."
Liam did not say anything so Hagen glanced over. Liam stared at him with intensity, and some emotion lurked deeper. What, Hagen did not know. But it reminded him of a hungry man who just spied a fragrant pot roast.
The corners of Liam's mouth curled up. "Your eyes. They're peculiar."
"How's that?"
He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, speaking in a soft voice. "They're like the Irish Sea on a stormy night. An ocean-green one moment, then blue the next. Very peculiar." He then fell asleep, and Hagen stared at him for a few more moments before lying on his back and taking his own afternoon nap.
Upon waking, they went to dinner. Hagen was surprised by the uncertain new feelings that he’d noticed during the afternoon. He wanted to spend more time with the animated young Irishman and listen to that soothing accent. He didn't want the time to end, and wished to postpone whatever mission was coming.
After dinner, Liam said it was time, so they grabbed their gear from their bunks and headed to the hangar to be briefed on their mission. It occurred to Hagen that, within a few hours, he would be flying over the English Channel and on to some mission that would take him into Germany. The hangar was vacant when they arrived, and the Night Angel faced them with the belly gun turret having been completely installed.
Liam took a cigarette from his pack and offered Hagen one, but he hesitated. Father would disapprove. He looked at Liam's face and took one, though, and Liam lit both.
"You have any girls back home?" Liam asked, his jade gaze aimed at him, his lips pursed over his cigarette.
Hagen drew in smoke, coughed, and shook his head; his eyes watered and he said, "Dated a couple. But no takers." Hagen put his arm up to his mouth, feeling another fit of coughs coming.
Liam leaned against the hangar door and stared up into the sky. The sun was starting to set. "Broke a couple lasses' hearts meself. A couple of them had some knockers." Liam looked over to Hagen and laughed. "Oh, right, you call them boobs." He inhaled and spoke after exhaling. "And please, Jaysus, I hope I never put one up the pole."
The ends of Hagen's mouth turned down, and he slid his hand through his blond hair. "The what?"
Liam chuckled and took a drag on his cigarette. "Oh, you Yanks say pregnant."
"Oh, right."
Bryce writes popular fiction genres meant for all audiences under Bryce Bentley Summers, and pens gay fiction under B. Bentley Summers, although he'd argue that anyone would enjoy his gay fiction pieces.
Bryce's full time work is at the Veteran Affairs where he has been employed for five years. He has extensive history of working with people diagnosed with PTSD and he used these experiences when writing Fresh Meat.
The novel, Fresh Meat, recently won Dan Poynter's Global eBook Awards for best gay fiction. This piece is more than just a book, but embraces gay identity while deploring the hateful violence that happens in the U.S. prison system, and across the world. The book parallels the vicious Man-Punk prison system to the long ago abolished American Slavery System. However, Fresh Meat is not non-fiction, but fiction, and it's genre is best described as Supernatural Horror.
Rotville and The Zombie Squad, are two of Bryce's recent completions. The Zombie Squad is a teen Post-Apocalyptic Thriller that recently received Reader's Favorite 5-Stars. This novel has humor and is fast pace, that follows four teens in New Orleans who find themselves not only chased by psycho gangsters, but in the middle of zombocalypse. Rotville is a new adult/ adult Sci-Fi Post-Apocalyptic Horror that takes place in the near future, in a city called Rotville where people with a rot disease are quarantined. Inside this city is the mega prison Colleseo, where inhumane experiments are carried out on inmates. It's also the birthplace of Dylan, a super soldier who must fight his way out, save a couple of youths from the new deadly mutants, and keep from being re-caught by the greedy director.
Bryce is also the author of the fiction Young Adult Dark Fantasy/ Sci-Fi series AMEN TO ROT. The novel NYTE GOD is the conclusion to this series. The Amen to Rot series and Nyte God pit Ace and his friends against alien invaders who are turning humans into mutant creatures.
Bryce authors popular fiction with a style that entices readers of all backgrounds to consume, and makes every attempt to make his characters diverse.
As noted, Bryce does dabble in gay fiction, and pens it under B. Bentley Summers, though in truth, these works are meant for everyone to read. Bryce is the founder of Queer Sense, a theory that describes how people form attitudes. The theory provides insight into how specific components in cultural contexts shape our beliefs and values, which ultimately form our attitudes. The nonfiction book, QUEER SENSE: How Are Attitudes Formed? A Revolutionary Guide for Teens, Parents, Mental Health Professionals and Anyone Interested in Queer Theory, is due out by 2016.
One winner each:
3x = $20 Amazon gift card
2x = $20 Barnes & Noble
6 x copies of.each book
Congrats on the tour and thank you for the great excerpt and giveaway also.
ReplyDeleteThis book sounds great! Looking forward to reading it. Thank you
ReplyDeleteI think the book looks great!
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed reading the excerpt
ReplyDeleteThe book excerpt sounds wonderful.
ReplyDelete