One more snippet and let’s pick a number!

July 16, 2014

Here’s one more snippet from Feline Persuasion that I wanted to share.  Thank everyone for taking the time to visit.  I’ll still be around to chat for most of the evening, so let’s keep the party going!


I’ve written down a number between 1 and 100.  Later tonight I’ll see which two people came closest to those numbers and post the winner’s on the blog here.  I’ll need your email address that you use in the Dreamspinner store to give to Hayley, the PR person at Dreamspinner so she can add a copy to your shelf.


Cade caught him glancing over at Micah, his eyes lingering longer than necessary before he focused ahead once more. Longing flashed over Stone’s face. Oh, yeah. There’s something between the two men. They might deny everything, but he knew better. His penchant for stirring the pot piqued.
“Decided waiting makes it better?”
“Huh?” Micah glanced back at him through the mirror.
Stone turned his head.
“You two. Like musk oxen in heat. Pussyfooting around, waiting for the other one to make the first move.”
“What the hell?” Micah growled. “You’re delusional.”
The corner of Stone’s mouth hitched up. “Musk ox, huh?” He stared at Micah. “Yep. I can see it. Bulky. Stout. Hairy. Smelly. All he needs is horns. I’m sure to other oxen he’d seem inviting. They’d just gallop over and mount up.”
Micah’s eyes narrowed. “Listen here, asshole. First of all, you’re the one in heat, can’t keep your eyes in your own head when I’m around. Second. No one mounts me. No one.” He ended the statement with a show of fangs.
Cade reclined back with a grin on his face. Watching the two bicker like kids made for great entertainment, at least for the long drive home. He couldn’t resist prodding Micah a bit further.
“Control freaks make great bottoms.”

One more peek…

July 16, 2014


“Tag. You’re it.” A hard hand landed on his haunches, leaving a sharp sting behind.
Micah roared, spun around, and glared at Stone, who stood with a smirk on his face, which immediately pinged Micah’s last nerve. Quickly, he switched forms and started tugging on the clothes he’d kept handy just in case Stone appeared close by. His own nakedness didn’t bother him in the least, and he might have remained naked and let Stone drool, but the chilly air changed his mind. Besides, he needed to be on equal levels with the snooty tomcat. His alpha-ness demanded nothing less.
As much as he would have loved to take on Stone as a lion, he had to refrain. For now. Once the humans after Cade had been caught, he’d reassess the situation.
“No wonder you need me. Can’t even detect a human within ten feet.” Stone crossed his arms over his chest. The same height as Micah, he carried similar bulk and generous muscles. Yet, true to his genetic heritage and like most shifters, he moved with a natural fluid grace reminiscent of their wild cousins. Everything about Stone spoke of toughness, capability, and an abundance of self-confidence. A chiseled chin and full lips were his only attributes leaning toward softness, while his deep black eyes told of intelligence, cunning, and, right then, amusement laced with challenge. Short blond hair topped his head, giving him a somewhat rakish appearance.
“That’s because you’re not human and managed to cover your scent, you bastard. I may not be a fucking bloodhound, but I’m not completely incompetent.” Micah snapped his teeth at the other shifter.
“That’s debatable.” Stone eyed Micah for a moment, spun on his heel, and walked in the opposite direction.
“Where in the hell are you going?” Micah hurried to catch up.
“To the cabin to meet your hidden tiger, of course.” Stone didn’t pause in the least, simply kept moving, long strides eating up the distance. He ducked and weaved around tree limbs, brush, and an occasional rocky outcropping, but nothing slowed him down. For all intents and purposes, he appeared completely comfortable in the woods.
Another fact which annoyed Micah. He followed along, reined in his temper, and attempted to be civil. “How do you know where the cabin is?”
“Simple. Google Earth. Besides, I could follow your scent anywhere.”
“Meaning I’m unforgettable?”
“More like you stink.”
So much for manners and politeness. They approached the front door of the cabin. Micah knocked loudly. “It’s just me.” He pushed the door open, found Cade standing in the middle of the living room, and ambled in. “Look what I found. A hungry stray. Think we should keep him or boot him out the door? Personally, I vote for the latter.”
As you can see, it’s pretty much clash from the get-go with Stone and Micah. On the other hand, with Micah and Cade it was more love, or perhaps lust, at first sight.
Anyone ever experience love or hate at first sight? How did it turn out?

More tidbits from Cheyenne

July 16, 2014

I’ve spoken to several authors and everyone seems to write differently.  Some listen to music as they write, others prefer silence. Some make notes, outlines, and follow a charted course. Others sit down and wing it from the start to the end, letting the story unfold as they go. Most work on laptops while a few still stick to desktops.


I’m a planner/plotter but too lazy to do outlines.  I simply type in some facts I know and then incorporate them into the story. Perhaps I’m a middle-of-the-road writer in that while I plan, I don’t have everything figured out. Most stories, I’ll have some scenes in my mind, then others will follow as I go along. In nearly all my books, I will jump ahead, then have to backtrack and fill in the holes. I even have more than one book in various stages of completion at one time. It works for me so I go with it.


If you were going to sit and work the computer, what kind of music would you listen to if any?

Ready for another Teaser from Feline Persuasion?

July 16, 2014
Micah licked his suddenly dry lips as his libido kicked into overdrive. For weeks, he’d dreamed about being alone with Cade again, diving into bed, experiencing the sultry bliss they both shared before, the best sex he’d ever had. No one had even appealed to him since.
Was he in lust? Obsessed? Could it be something more? After all, some persistent yet elusive emotion drove him to the back woods to ferret out Cade’s story and take steps to protect the stubborn feline.
Did the reasons really matter, anyway? All Micah knew was this: Cade excited him like no other man. Fulfilled his needs and left him longing for more. So much more.
“Like what you see?”
Micah glanced up from the bulge in Cade’s pants to his face. “Yeah, I do.”
A teasing smile settled on Cade’s lips. His eyes flashed in passion and mischief. “You know, I make it a rule to never spend more than one night with the same man.”
Micah blinked, stung by the words Cade had uttered once before as they parted ways.
Cade nodded. “Makes for far fewer complications that way. No attachments, just a night of pumping and dumping, then I go my way.” He shrugged. “Too many men, not enough time.”
“Got commitment issues?” Micah studied Cade’s face, noting the flash of emotions. When Cade flinched, he knew he had hit a nerve.
Cade sucked in a breath and pasted a smile on his face. “I’m a playboy. Born and bred. I’ll never settle down. Why should I? There’s thousands of men still waiting for me.”
“Cocky much?”
Cade’s eyebrow lifted. “I’m damn cocky. Haven’t you noticed?”
Micah grinned wickedly. “You might be a smidgen more endowed than the average bear.”
Cade snorted. “I don’t give a flip about bears. I’m damn fine. Besides, cats rule and dogs drool.”
Micah chuckled. “Then what do bears do?”
“Eat too much honey, get fat, then find themselves stuck in a hole?”
“Sounds about right.”

Another question from Cheyenne

July 16, 2014

I love writing about shape shifters. The possibilities are endless with their genetics, the sexual drive firecracker hot with lust driven animal instincts. The amount of magic and abilities each carries, not to mention the trouble they can’t help but stumble into make shifters my favorite characters.


Feline Persuasion has three main characters, all shifters. Two lions and a tiger make up the assortment of kitty flavors.


So let me ask you guys this:  Are shapeshifters your favorite? Humans? Vampires? Other beings? And, if shifters take the top prize in your book, which variety makes you sit up and take notice? Werewolves? Felines? Others?

Let’s get the Feline Persuasion Release blog party started!

July 16, 2014
Hello, Cheyenne Meadows here to chat with you lovely people.  My latest novel Feline Persuasion was released today. 
More third party sites to follow!
When tiger  shifter Cade turns an oily owner of a consultation firm over to the FBI, he finds himself with a hit man on his heels. Chester was in possession of security-breaching national secrets, and even more concerning,  evidence that shifters exist, and if it got out, trouble would follow  for all shifters. So now Cade is on the run. He holes up in an isolated  hideout where he doesn’t expect anyone to find him–least of all a  former one-night stand.
Alpha lion shifter Micah can’t shake  Cade from his mind. They spent one glorious night together before Cade  ran off without leaving even a name. He’s determined to find his runaway and protect what he’s come to think as his despite Cade’s one and done  rule. He surprises Cade in his secret nest in the forest, learns the  reason for Cade’s self-imposed exile, and decides to call for help. This nets them Stone: a top-of-the-line bodyguard and the one man Micah  can’t stand. Stone isn’t thrilled either. He can think of better things  to do than spend days in the wilderness with the uppity alpha who stomps on his last nerve.
Despite their differences and history, they need to find a way to survive and expose the traitor in their midst.  They also realize chances at love are fleeting unless you grab the  opportunity between your teeth and hold on for one wild ride.
Here’s a teaser:
“This is the definition of insanity.” Micah sat down on an old, overturned log and scrubbed his face.
After driving all night long to get to Kentucky, he had reached the wildlife refuge in the early morning hours. There, he located the northernmost entrance, parked his vehicle, then let his nose guide him over the acres of hills, trees, streams, and rugged isolation. Every now and then, he could have sworn he detected Cade’s scent, only for the elusive aroma to waft away without a definite course or location, taunting him. Frustration mounted as he covered large segments of ground, finding no trace of his target.
Sure, he could shift to his animal form, but that brought an additional set of issues. A lion running loose in the national forest would certainly draw notice if prying eyes discovered him. Not to mention, he’d leave a pile of clothes behind. The idea of carrying his stinky boots around in his mouth made his nose scrunch in distaste, yet he dared not leave them behind. Running around barefoot in the chilly air wasn’t an option. Lion shifters tended toward warmer weather, preferring to leave the cold to polar bear and arctic fox shifters.
Sometimes, being a shifter meant additional drawbacks, and that downright sucked.
Judging by the sun’s location low in the western sky, Micah had been on foot searching for nine or ten hours all to no avail. And why am I on this wild goose chase again? Because the one-night stand sexiest man alive conquest is missing. And I’m not done exploring his marvelous body and the highs of each sexual interlude yet to come. That’s why.
I’m such a fool. He’d wanted Cade too badly. Gave into his nearly overwhelming lust. And where had it gotten him? Sitting in the middle of the boonies searching for a needle in a haystack like a lovesick cub with his first crush.
The reasoning sounded flimsy even to his own mind. So Cade had been the best lay he’d ever had. Cade hadn’t even shared his real name and certainly didn’t leave a phone number or calling card for future run-ins. Nope. He’d simply left before dawn, probably off to find another fuck buddy for the following night.
No, Micah chided himself. Cade had been worried, close to frantic. That wasn’t the mood of bed partner searching. He had lied about needing to take off for work. As much as Cade tried to hide his anxiety, Micah smelled it easily.
Cade clicked with him, made him want more, not just in the bed but out as well. That small connection linked them strongly enough for Micah’s inner beast to roar in demand and anger, determined to reunite with his one-time bed partner. He had to find Cade. Or exhaust all avenues. Even then, he wouldn’t rest. Damn alpha pride leader instincts. He wouldn’t be able to return to his routine life while anyone he cared about remained unaccounted for. The primitive needs rode him hard in everything he did, and fighting them did little good. In the end, he simply complied, followed his gut, and found success every time.
Gathering up his water bottle, Micah drank deeply, ignoring the rumbling in his stomach reminding him he’d missed lunch and dinner loomed just ahead. Food fell to the low end of the priority list. With an abundance of wild game in the refuge, all he’d have to do was shift to his animal form, stalk and chase, then feast on one of the thousands of deer in the eight thousand acre park. Simple enough for a lion shifter in his prime. Tracking a runaway tiger proved a bit more challenging.
“I’m a lion, not a fucking bloodhound.”
“That’s for damn sure.”
In the story, Cade has nipple rings, as you can see on the cover. Something a bit different which Micah and Stone can’t see to get enough of. So, my question for you guys is this:  Nipple rings.  Turn off or turn on and why?

Blog Party Tomorrow afternoon with Cheyenne Meadows

July 15, 2014


Hello all,


I’m Cheyenne Meadows and I’m having a blog party starting at 3:00 pm Central time tomorrow until around 5:00 pm or later right here to celebrate the release of Feline Persuasion. Come join in the fun. I’ll also be giving away two free copies of Feline Persuasion to those that participate in the party.


I hope to chat with you all tomorrow, have some fun, and kick off this new release with a bang!

Bashed: A Haunting Blend of Romance & Suspense Is Out Today

July 14, 2014


Recently, I had two notes from readers. I think these two notes point at the dichotomy in my writing—light and dark. The first note was from a woman, who said:

I love your romance novels. They can be a little angsty, but for the most part, they’re light and fun. And they have a happy-ever-after, which is a must for me. I have to admit, I’m scared to read some of your other stuff. I’m afraid it would give me nightmares.

The other note, from a man, said:

I really enjoy your romance novels. They’re sweet and romantic, but what really connects with me are the darker ones, that deal with real issues. Those are the ones I remember long after I close the book.

What’s a writer to do? A writer needs to remember the maxim: You can’t please all the people all the time. And, although it might sound selfish, my first responsibility when creating any work of fiction, is to please myself. I have to tell the story that’s itching to get out of my psyche. Love stories are great—I enjoy writing them more and more. They usually make me both laugh and cry as I take my character or characters on their journey to true love. But like the reader above, it’s often my darker work that resonates with me, that echoes in my head long after I’ve typed those bittersweet words, the end. Bashed is a good example. I wanted initially to write about a very real plight in the gay community—hate crimes. People being beaten for just who they are seems unimaginable, but those crimes happen with alarming and often growing frequency. Bashed examines, through the structure of a paranormal love story, the after-effects of a tragic hate crime on a small group of people—both victims and perpetrators, and tries to how even hate can bind us in unforeseeable ways.

But as I’m writing about Bashed, I look up and see what I’ve written about romance, about taking my characters on a journey to true love. That is probably the essence of my writing and it holds true whether I’m writing about something ripped from the headlines or something that might give you goosebumps—ultimately, almost everything I write is about finding that elusive state most human beings search and long for—true love. The same is true for Bashed.

My main character, Donald, loses the love of his life at the beginning of the book, loses him in an almost unbearable way—at the hands of people who, for no other reason than sexual orientation, want to hurt them in the most terrible ways possible. But the thing I want to say to the woman who wrote to me above is that she shouldn’t be afraid to read a book of mine like Bashed, because, at its heart, it provides hope, and the possibility of finding true love again, even in the face of unbearable loss. I think that’s why some of my darker works sticks with me and resonates more deeply—because my characters have to come from such a place of despair to find love that it’s that much more worthwhile when they do.

It should have been a perfect night out. Instead, Mark and Donald collide with tragedy when they leave their favorite night spot. That dark October night, three gay-bashers emerge from the gloom, armed with slurs, fists, and an aluminum baseball bat.

The hate crime leaves Donald lost and alone, clinging to the memory of the only man he ever loved. He is haunted, both literally and figuratively, by Mark and what might have been. Trapped in a limbo offering no closure, Donald can’t immediately accept the salvation his new neighbor, Walter, offers. Walter’s kindness and patience are qualities his sixteen-year-old nephew, Justin, understands well. Walter provides the only sense of family the boy’s ever known. But Justin holds a dark secret that threatens to tear Donald and Walter apart before their love even has a chance to blossom.

Dreamspinner Ebook
Dreamspinner Paperback  

He had found Mark, fifteen years his junior and with the face of an angel but the mind of a demon, at the Brig, the leather bar they had patronized “that” night. But this was last winter, March, and it was bitterly cold. The bar was a Chicago institution with a strict leather dress code and lots of macho posturing. A Harley hung from the ceiling. Tom of Finland posters adorned the walls. Hard-core porno played on monitors hanging from the ceiling. A St. Andrews cross was set up in one corner. And then, of course, there was the infamous back room, where anything could happen. Donald knew the latter for a fact, since once upon a time, he had been a habitué of that back room, instigator, hunter, and hunted.

The Brig was not exactly celebrated as a place where love ignited and blossomed. It was known more for multiple, faceless partners in the crowded back room, where a full-length urinal ran along the length of one wall and one could indulge oneself with many partners in an evening, all of them unrecognizable should you pass them on the street the next morning. The idea of romance and a long-term relationship by the Brig’s standards was a one-night stand.

Donald had fully expected, that night in March, to enter the bar, grab a shot of Jack and a Budweiser, down them, and head to the back room for a quick release. Oh sure, it wasn’t pretty, and it certainly wasn’t romantic, but it was efficient, and he could go home feeling that his evening was complete. His night had begun innocently enough with dinner with his friend Mary on Devon Street at their favorite Indian hole in the wall (they shared samosas and chicken tikka masala) and then a play at The Steppenwolf.

He could have, maybe should have, gone home after that, but once he dropped Mary off at her condo in Evanston, he found he was still wide awake and hungry for a different kind of companionship than his good friend could possibly offer.

But life often had a way of surprising you. Life often was deliberate and patient, waiting until just the right moment, when hope, such as it was, was extinguished, to throw a big, surprising present right in your lap.

And that present was Mark. Donald hadn’t even glanced around the bar for potential suitors. He wasn’t looking to make idle chitchat, to buy someone a beer, to go to some walk-up in Rogers Park where passion would rule for an hour at best, only to be eclipsed by an awkward exchange of numbers and excuses Donald would make about having to get up early in the morning and needing to head home. No, Donald was on his determined way to the back room, half downed beer gripped in his fist. He knew he could be in and out of there within minutes and home in his comfy bed in Edgewater fifteen minutes after that. The routine was becoming habitual, and Donald wondered, in darker moments, if he wasn’t stunting himself emotionally with such behavior.

But dark thoughts like these were not foremost in Donald’s mind as he neared the arch that would lead into the back room. The thoughts he was having (a warm mouth just waiting for him in the shadows) were rudely interrupted by the appearance of a stranger, blocking his path. The guy was young, blond, and smiling, dressed all wrong for the Brig. (His leather biker jacket was the only thing that had probably allowed him in the door on a Saturday night.) He had the kind of innocent face one might call cherubic: pale blue eyes, creamy white skin, cheeks that were noticeably rosy even in the dim, functional light of the bar. His hair was a riot of curls, very Shirley Temple. Under the biker jacket, he wore a pair of Levi’s and a dark cotton crewneck sweater with a white T-shirt underneath. Christ, the kid was even wearing Asics! The guy on the door must be asleep at the wheel tonight.

Donald almost couldn’t believe the kid’s smile was for him. He tried to brush by him. But then the kid said, “Don’t I know you?”

Donald regarded him with a wary eye. Donald was six-two, with salt and pepper hair and a full beard to match. He had stayed in good shape and still filled out a form-fitting T-shirt well. The wrinkles around his green eyes and the bushy eyebrows above them only served to make him more appealing… especially to kids like this one, who, he knew, wanted to get around to calling him “Daddy” sooner or later.

He gave the kid a smile and shook his head. “Don’t think so.” He tried to brush by him again. Even though the kid was cute and the fact that he had approached him opened the door to possibility, Donald just wanted to get in, get off, and get out. He wished it weren’t so, but Donald couldn’t hide from himself, not after thirty years or so of hanging out in just such places as the Brig.

“Sure. You work construction… downtown. At Wacker and Michigan?”

Donald rolled his eyes. Was he supposed to be flattered? He supposed he looked the part, but he hadn’t done any job even remotely physical since he had landed a summer job in a steel mill when he was in college. The truth was, Donald made his living as the director of marketing for a professional association downtown, not far from the corner the kid had just mentioned. If the kid had seen him at that intersection, he would have been wearing khakis and an Oxford button-down, not flannel, denim, tool belt, and hard hat. He placed his hand on the kid’s shoulder, and a little jolt went through him, unexpected but delightful. The kid felt solid beneath his cotton and leather, a real man’s body, broad-shouldered, belying the Shirley Temple hair and the angelic face. It gave Donald pause. He met the kid’s blue-eyed gaze and grinned. “Yeah, I drive a fork lift down dere.” Donald could do a good Chicago south-sider accent. He burst into laughter. He couldn’t maintain the ruse, not even for a few seconds. “Actually, I do work near Michigan and Wacker. But in a high rise that was finished long ago. And the most physical labor I do is adjusting a mouse pad just so.”

The kid winked. “I probably could have guessed that, but I knew I needed a good opening line fast when I saw you walk in.” He shrugged and took a swig from his beer. “The best I could come up with.” He took another swallow and looked up at Donald. “I’m ready for another one. How ’bout you?”

And so it began. Before Donald could even respond in the affirmative, Mark had taken note of what brand of beer he drank and had nimbly made his way through the crowd, ordered, and returned with two fresh, sweating brown bottles. Donald hadn’t even had a chance to think about answering the siren call of temptation issuing forth from the back room, just opposite from where he stood. In any event, when Mark pressed the beer into his hand and pressed close to him, Donald suddenly abandoned any thought of the back room. Tonight was going to be different. And no one was more surprised about the turn of events than Donald himself.

Rick R. Reed Biography
Rick R. Reed is all about exploring the romantic entanglements of gay men in contemporary, realistic settings. While his stories often contain elements of suspense, mystery and the paranormal, his focus ultimately returns to the power of love. He is the author of dozens of published novels, novellas, and short stories. He is a three-time EPIC eBook Award winner (for Caregiver, Orientation and The Blue Moon Cafe). Raining Men and Caregiver have both won the Rainbow Award for gay fiction.  Lambda Literary Review has called him, “a writer that doesn’t disappoint.” Rick lives in Seattle with his husband and a very spoiled Boston terrier. He is forever “at work on another novel.”


Release Party for The God Hunters: Light and Shadow

July 1, 2014

Congratulations to Susan and Su who both won an ebook copy of Light and Shadow, the latest release in The God Hunters series by Mark Reed.

A very special thank you to everyone who participated today. I hope you enjoy the series and be sure to check out The God Hunter’s homepage at  or the book series at


Release Party for The God Hunters: Light and Shadow

July 1, 2014

Ok readers!  One more ebook to give away before I head out for the day.  Just like or comment or say hi and you’ll be entered for the drawing ;)

See the book here: