Rick R. Reed's Blog, page 90

My Boston is the Cover Model for My New Book!

When my e-book story, "I Heart Boston Terriers" comes out next month from Amber Allure, I will be especially excited because the cover model is none other than my own Boston Terrier, Lily. The photo at the bottom of the cover was taken in a sleepy moment on our bed by my partner, Bruce Moynagh.

I think it's adorable.

And here's what the book is about:

Love at first sight can work for dogs as well as humans.

When Aaron finds Mavis, an emaciated and timid Boston terrier, at a pet adoption fair, his heart goes out to her—irrevocably.

When Christian, who is manning the adoption fair for the Humane Society that fateful autumn Saturday, finds Aaron, his heart goes out to him—irrevocably.

"I Heart Boston Terriers" is all about embracing love, whether it's for someone who walks on four legs, or someone who walks on two. The Boston terrier Mavis' journey back to wholeness and finding her forever home runs parallel to the story of two men discovering one another at just that perfect moment—a moment that defies logic, propriety, and common sense.

But then when do the dictates of love follow a rational course?

Come along for a journey about a man and his dog and see how that journey teaches him the truth about love and making a caring connection that just might last a lifetime.
I hope you'll come along for the ride when the book debuts in January as apart of the "Heavy Petting" series.

New Rave for CAREGIVER

Very stoked by this review from a site I had yet to hear of, "Butterfly-o-Meter Books" (thank you Google Alerts!). The reviewer gave CAREGIVER five butterflies and said:

"I cannot begin to tell you how beautiful this novel is, it's stupendous, you just have to read it or you'll be missing out big time. Don't shy away from the difficult points it raises, be brave and read it, feel it, live it in your heart, I'm sure you will love it just as much as I did..."

Read the whole review here.

Buy CAREGIVER: In ebook In paperback
For Kindle

SYNOPSIS
It's 1991, and Dan Calzolaio has just moved to Florida with his lover, Mark, having fled Chicago and Mark's addictions to begin a new life on the Gulf Coast. Volunteering for the Tampa AIDS Alliance is just one part of that new beginning, and that's how Dan meets his new buddy, Adam.

Adam Schmidt is not at all what Dan expected. The guy is an original—witty, wry, and sarcastic with a fondness for a smart black dress, Barbra Streisand, and a good mai tai. Adam doesn't let his imminent death get him down, even through a downward spiral that sees him thrown in jail.

Each step of Adam's journey teaches Dan new lessons about strength and resilience, but it's Adam's lover, Sullivan, to whom Dan feels an almost irresistible pull. Dan knows the attraction isn't right, even after he dumps his cheating, drug-abusing boyfriend. But then Adam passes away, and it leaves Sullivan and Dan both alone to see if they can turn their love for Adam into something whole and real for each other.

Bring LGBT Couples Home for the Holidays

Earlier this month, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton delivered an incredible speech to the United Nations, affirming that LGBT rights are human rights, and the international community should extend more freedoms to LGBT folks.

Of course, the U.S. still has a lot of work to do on LGBT rights.

Right now, my son Nicholas Reed is among the thousands of LGBT Americans living in exile across the globe because he happened to fall in love with a non-American -- and he's had to choose between love and country. Secretary of Homeland Security Janet Napolitano could actually solve that problem *tomorrow* by issuing the partners of LGBT Americans humanitarian parole -- and we're petitioning her to do just that!

Will you join my son and me in signing the petition right now?

http://bit.ly/tbsWPs

Thank you!

Kindle Giving

Every day it seems there's a new innovation in e-books - and here's another. If your friend, relative, or loved one reads e-books, you can purchase a specific one just for them. Both B&N and Amazon.com have "BUY AS A GIFT" options.

For instance, click here http://amzn.to/tw8UEv and you can see in the right upper corner a button for "GIVE AS A GIFT." This works on any e-book in their systems.

Just an idea for all those scrambling for last minute presents!

Three Dollar Bill Reviews Likes CAREGIVER

It's not often you get just as excited about a positive review as you do about the quality of the review. Not only does reviewer Indigene give CAREGIVER a very positive thumbs-up, her reviewing, writing, and analytical skills are all top-notch.

In part, Indigene said:

"...Some readers may shy away from this novel because of the subject matter of HIV/AIDS. I encourage them to not do so because they will be missing out on a beautiful story. I recommend Caregiver without hesitation as one of Mr. Reed's most heartfelt novels and at the same time one of his most life-embracing stories."

Read the whole review here.

Buy the book: Publisher (print and ebook), All Romance eBooks, Amazon (print and ebook)

Just in time for the holidays! MATCHES releases today.

I've always loved the darkly beautiful fairy tales of Hans Christian Andersen. "Matches" is my gay take on "The Little Match Girl".

SYNOPSIS
Christmas Eve should be a night filled with magic and love. But for Anderson, down on his luck and homeless in Chicago's frigid chill, it's a fight for survival. Whether he's sleeping on the el, or holed up in an abandoned car, all he really has are his memories to keep him warm-memories of a time when he loved a man named Welk and the world was perfect. When Anderson finds a book of discarded matches on the sidewalk, he pockets them. Later, trying to keep the cold at bay hunkered down in a church entryway, Anderson discovers the matches are the key to bringing his memories of Welk, happiness, and security to life. Within their flames, visions dance-and perhaps a reunion with the man he loved most.

EXCERPT
Anderson made his way down the stairs into the Grand Avenue subway station, the mildew smell of the station rising up as he descended. A rush of commuters passed him going up; a train must have just discharged them. People edged by, giving him as wide a berth as possible. Just as he neared the bottom, a young woman with short black hair, wearing a down coat trimmed in fur, stumbled on the concrete stairs. She dropped her purse and its contents spilled out. Anderson paused and spotted the makeup, the few dollar bills-and a CTA transit card. A part of him told him to grab it and run, that she could well afford another one. If there was enough money stored on the card, it could get him through a good part of the winter.

But no matter how cold it got, no matter how much snow fell, no matter how well the woman could afford to buy another card, Anderson couldn't do it. He just didn't have it in him to steal.

He reached down to help her gather her things and she recoiled, gasping at the sight of him and scooting back and away. "That's okay!" she said, quickly lowering her gaze to hurriedly pick up the things she had dropped.

It hurt Anderson to see the fear and disgust in her eyes.

In the station, Anderson didn't know what to do. To access the platform, you had to have a card. Sure, he could jump the turnstiles and risk getting arrested; he had seen it done. Some got away with it, more didn't.

Like stealing the woman on the stair's transit pass, it simply wasn't within Anderson to do something criminal.

Among the straggling commuters, Anderson spied an old woman who looked kindly. Perhaps she would take pity on him. With her upsweep of gray hair, her sensible wool coat, rubber boots, and hand-crocheted scarf, she appeared kindly, reminding Anderson of his own late grandmother. There was something lively and warm in her pale blue eyes.

Anderson stepped in front of her and smiled. "Excuse me, ma'am."

The woman stopped, regarding him.

"I hate to ask, but I need to get on the train and, honestly, I don't have a dime to my name." Anderson thought for a moment and came up with a small white lie. "I need to get to the south side, where my family is." He smiled again. "It's Christmas."

The woman didn't say anything.

"Do you think you could spare a couple dollars so I could ride?" Anderson gnawed at his lower lip, hating the position circumstance and the economy had put him in.

"Get the hell out of my way," the woman said quietly, edging by him. She called over her shoulder, "Get a job, why don't you?"

Anderson was taken aback by the coldness and the almost-hatred in her voice. It was so unexpected and so unnecessarily cruel.

Anderson felt the bright sting of tears at the corner of his eyes. His shoulders slumped. He was about to turn and leave the station when a young guy, about his own age, came up to him. Once upon a time, Anderson would have thought he was cute, and if he had opened the door a little, Anderson might have flirted with him. But now his only reaction was-what now?

"What a bitch," the man said, his gaze roaming over to where the old woman was mounting the stairs. He reached into the pocket of his worn denim jacket that looked too thin for the weather and pulled out a transit card. He held it out to Anderson. "Take it. There's only one ride left on there. I wish I could give you more, but I'm pretty strapped myself."

Tentatively, Anderson reached for the card. "Are you sure you can spare this?"

"I wouldn't have offered it to you if I couldn't." He wiggled the hand holding the card. "Go on."

Anderson took it, wondering if some guardian angel, or even Welk, was looking out for him.

"Thank you."

"It's nothin'. Merry Christmas."

Anderson swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat. "Merry Christmas to you too."

The guy turned and headed up the stairs, out into the snow.

And Anderson moved toward the turnstiles.

The card worked.

BUY From MLR Press
Kindle version coming soon!

Coming this Wednesday, December 7, from MLR Press

Christmas Eve should be a night filled with magic and love. But for Anderson, down on his luck and homeless in Chicago's frigid chill, it's a fight for survival. Whether he's sleeping on the el, or holed up in an abandoned car, all he really has are his memories to keep him warm-memories of a time when he loved a man named Welk and the world was perfect. When Anderson finds a book of discarded matches on the sidewalk, he pockets them. Later, trying to keep the cold at bay hunkered down in a church entryway, Anderson discovers the matches are the key to bringing his memories of Welk, happiness, and security to life. Within their flames, visions dance-and perhaps a reunion with the man he loved most.

Scheduled Release Date: 12/07/2011

5 Stars from MM Reviews for CAREGIVER

I'm pleased to share a wonderful five-star review for CAREGIVER from MM Reviews with you. The reviewer, Pixie, said, in part:

"Rick R. Reed, you do not get to do this to me. You do not get to write a book that is caring, beautiful, touching and wonderful. You do not get to write a book that even now has me trying to stifle the tears as I write this review… You're supposed to write horror stories and if you change style it should be rubbish not this incredible piece of writing...This story gives you a range of emotions to experience, love, betrayal, sadness, happiness, guilt and hope, the love-making is wonderful, this is a true love story that is not to be missed so I recommend this to everyone and I hope you love it as much as I did.

Read the whole review here.

Buy from
Dreamspinner
Amazon Kindle

CAREGIVER Gets a Rave Review from Amos Lassen

Just wanted to share with you a wonderful review I just got for CAREGIVER from veteran GLBT reviewer, Amos Lassen. In part, he said:

"Reed has written this book as a tribute to those who are gone and I am certain that each person who has been touched by loss because of AIDS will find a lot to identify with here.

"I have read so much about AIDS that I was not sure I could handle another book so I approached Reed's novel with trepidation and knowing that I would be affected by it from the moment I opened the covers. Once I began, I was pulled into the story and I could not stop reading. There were moments that I wept as I read and I really went through a catharsis by the time I finished the book."

Read the full review here.

BUY from Dreamspinner Press
In ebook.
In paperback.

Kindle

NEW RELEASE! Win a FREE Copy of My Vampire Love Story, BLOOD SACRIFICE

Finally, thanks to the good folks at Untreed Reads Publishing, my terrifying, erotic, suspenseful and richly romantic vampire tale, In the Blood , comes to new digital life as Blood Sacrifice . The new e-book version contains exclusive restored material not included in the print edition.

To win a free copy of Blood Sacrifice , simply:

1. Leave a comment below.

2. Be sure to leave an e-mail address so I can get in touch if you're a winner.

3. Bonus points for reposting news of this contest/release on your Facebook, Twitter, group, blog, or other social network.
4. Even more bonus points if you click on the link at the right to subscribe by e-mail to this blog.

I will announce the winner on Wednesday, November 23.

Don't want to wait to see if you're a winner? You can purchase your own copy at the following:

From Untreed Reads Nook 

Synopsis
What Would You Give Up for Immortal Life and Love?

By day, Elise draws and paints, spilling out the horrific visions of her tortured mind. By night, she walks the streets, selling her body to the highest bidder.

And then they come into her life: a trio of impossibly beautiful vampires: Terence, Maria, and Edward. When they encounter Elise, they set an explosive triangle in motion.

Terence wants to drain her blood. Maria just wants Elise . . . as lover and partner through eternity. And Edward, the most recently-converted, wants to prevent her from making the same mistake he made as a young abstract expressionist artist in 1950s Greenwich Village: sacrificing his artistic vision for immortal life. He is the only one of them still human enough to realize what an unholy trade this is.

Blood Sacrifice is a novel that will grip you in a vise of suspense that won't let go until the very last moment...when a shocking turn of events changes everything and demonstrates--truly--what love and sacrifice are all about.

Excerpt
Elise Groneman stares out the window, stomach roiling. What she has is like stage fright. She gets it every night, before she ventures out of her tiny Rogers Park studio apartment on Chicago's far north side. It's always been amazing to her that just a few minutes' walk to the north is the suburb of Evanston and a different world; there, the streets are tree-lined and clean, the homes palatial, the condos upscale, the restaurants grand, and the stores exclusive. Affluence and culture preside. Yet here, on Greenview Street, one encounters abject poverty, crime, the detritus of urban desperation: tiny brightly-colored baggies, fast food wrappers, condoms, empty alcohol bottles, even pieces of clothing. The sidewalks are cracked, the grassy areas choked with weeds and garbage. Here in Rogers Park, the normal folks―the ones who travel on the el to work downtown every morning―stay inside, so as not to mingle with people like Elise, or the man outside her window right now, who's screaming, "What the fuck do I care what you do, bitch? It ain't no skin off my ass." Elise glances out and sees the man is alone. A boy cruises by on a bicycle that's too small for him. The bike is stolen; either that, or he's a runner for some small time dealer, delivering and making collections. Sometimes, there aren't many options for moving up the ladder.

But this neighborhood is all Elise can afford, and, unless she picks up more clientele soon, she may even be crowded out of this hovel she begrudgingly calls home. Once, she shared the place with someone else, but those days, for better or worse, are long behind her.

Elise moves to the window, attempting to obliterate memory by the simple act of staring outside. Dusk has fallen and the sky belies the earthbound life before her. The sun is setting, the sky deep violet, filtering down to tangerine and pink near the horizon. If she keeps her eyes trained on the riot of color and shape to the east, she can almost forget where she is.

But the denizens of Greenview Street make sure she stays reminded. They stroll the night in an attempt to escape the heat, the hot, moist air pressing in, smothering. They call to one another, using words she had barely heard, let alone used, back in Shaker Heights, Ohio, where she had grown up: nigga, motherfucka, homey. Fuck used as an adjective, verb, and ejaculation (but rarely, ironically, utilized in a sexual context). Snatches of music filter out from apartment windows. Cruising vehicles pass by, bass thumping hard enough to cause the glass in her windows to vibrate. She has picked up names of artists like Bow Wow, Def Soul, and Trick Daddy as she walks the streets. Elise puts a hand to the screen, testing the air. Will there ever be a breeze again? She wonders if her neighbors would recognize any of the names attached to the music she loves, names like Vivaldi, Smetana, Bach. Other music fills the street: arguments and professions of love shouted with equal force. Headlights illuminate the darkening night, which is also lit by the flare of a match here, neon there, and sodium vapor overall. The world glows orange, filling up not only the streets of the city, but the sky, blotting out the stars.

East of her churn the cold waters of Lake Michigan, and Elise imagines its foam-flecked waves lapping at the shores. She'd like to pad down to the beach at the end of Birchwood Street, kick off her sandals and run across the sand and into the water, its cold obliterating and refreshing. She wishes she had the freedom, but east is not her path. Her way lies south, to Howard Street, purveyor of pawnshops and prostitution.

Her destination.

Elise turns to survey her cramped apartment. Near the ceiling, industrial green paint peels from the walls to reveal other coats of grimy paint no color describes. Metal-frame twin bed, sheets twisted and gray, damp from sweat and humidity. Next to that, Salvation Army-issue scarred oak table, small, with the remains of this night's meal, a few apple peelings, a knife, and a glass half filled with pale tea, darkening in the dying light.

It's a place no one would ever call home. Elise's apartment is utilitarian, a place to work, to sleep, to eat. It's little more than shelter.

The only sign of human habitation is her work: huge canvases mounted on easels, bits of heavy paper taped to her drawing board. Much of her work is done in charcoal and pencil, but the palette of grays and black remain constant, whether it's a sketch or a completed painting. Her subject matter, too, is always the same, although the variety of choices she has to explore is endless. Elise likes to draw intensely detailed renderings of crime and accident scenes, aping the cold, clinical detachment one might find in a book of crime scene photographs. Here is a woman, slumped beside a corduroy recliner, a gunshot ripping away half of her head (the blood black in Elise's rendering), beside her, a half-eaten chicken leg and the Tempo section of the Chicago Tribune, folded neatly and splattered with her gore. There's a man lying beside a highway, the cars a fast-moving blurred river. His head has been severed from his body. On the wall she has masking-taped a nightmare in quick, staccato slashes: a young woman strangled and left to lie in the pristine environment of an upscale public washroom, clean, shiny ceramic tile, untarnished metal stalls. Another woman, looking bored, checks her lipstick in the mirror. Near Elise's floor is a small, intricately detailed drawing done in charcoal: two lovers lie in a bed of gore, the aftermath―one presumes―of discovery of their union by a jealous lover. The woman has a sheet discreetly covering her up to the neck. The man lies splayed out in a paroxysm of agony. And why not? His offending penis has been slashed from his body. Is that it on the floor beside the bed, a smudge of black, nearly shapeless?

Where is all the color? Elise herself wonders as she dresses for the evening. Color has been leached out of her world; it is getting increasingly difficult to be able to remember what color was like and thus, increasingly difficult to duplicate its varied hues on paper or canvas. Color, it seems, is but a hazy memory out of her past.

Enough of art analysis, she thinks. It's her days she has designated to her art. Nighttime is when she prepares for her other job, the occupation that keeps a roof over her head. The job which perhaps is responsible for stealing the color from her vision.

Enough! Enough! Enough! she thinks. Put the introspection behind you. It's time now, time to become a creature of the night, an animal doing what it must to provide its own sustenance.

She rummages in the apartment's lone closet, pulling out one of her "uniforms," clothing that helps identify her occupation as much a mechanic's jumpsuit, or a waitress's ruffled apron and polyester dress.

Tonight, she dons a short black skirt bisected by a wide zipper ending in a big silver loop. Over her head, she pulls a white T-shirt, tying it just above her waist. In combination with the low-riding skirt, it perfectly frames her navel. Elise pulls the skin apart and plucks out a piece of lint. She completes her ensemble with dark seamed stockings and spike heels. These are the tools of the trade as much as the brushes, sticks of charcoal, and pencils littering her space.

Elise flips back her long whiskey-colored hair, and leans close to the mirror. She lines her lips with a shade of brown, then fills in with glossy crimson. Cheapens her green eyes with thick black kohl. Elise pulls her hair back, away from her damp neck, and up, pinning it all together with a silver barrette adorned with the smiling face of a skull. Pentagram earrings. Tonight a witch, creature of the night.

Then she turns, hand on doorknob. The night awaits: exhaust fumes, traffic, the chirping of cicadas.

Purchase your own copy at the following:

From Untreed Reads Nook