Series: Chaser, Book One
Author: Rick R. Reed
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: February 24, 2020
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 67500
Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Insta-love, family illness, separation, perceived cheating, physical fitness, narcissistic character, betrayal
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Synopsis
Caden DeSarro is what they call a chubby
chaser. He likes his guys with a few extra pounds on them. So when he meets
Kevin Dodge in a bar bathroom, he can’t help but stare. As far as Caden is
concerned, Kevin is physically perfect: a stocky bearded blond. But Caden gets
tongue-tied and misses his chance.
When Caden runs into Kevin one night on
the el train, he figures it’s fate offering him a second shot. Caden manages to
get invited back to Kevin’s place for a one-night stand that turns into the
kind of relationship he’s dreamed about.
But the course of true love never runs
smoothly—Kevin and Caden’s romance is no exception. When Caden returns from a
few weeks away on business, Kevin surprises him with a new and “improved”
body—one that fits Caden’s shallow friend Bobby’s ideal, but not Caden’s. Caden
doesn’t know what to do, and his hesitation is just the opportunity Bobby was
looking for.
Excerpt
Chaser
Rick R. Reed © 2020
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
“I like fat men.”
“You like big butts?”
“I cannot lie.”
Caden and his therapist laughed together
over the song reference, both old enough to remember Sir Mix-A-Lot’s 1992 rap
hit “Baby Got Back.” Camille D’Amico reined in her laughter abruptly, pushing
her tortoiseshell glasses back up on her nose and fussing with her frizzy halo
of brown hair. She adopted a serious expression. “So you’re attracted to
heavier men. Is that a problem?”
“Not really a problem, I guess. It’s
just that I wonder why. I mean, look at me.”
Caden stood up, turned around slowly,
and sat back down in the comfortable overstuffed chair facing Camille. He knew
what he was displaying—a very trim, tight five-foot-eleven frame upon which not
even an ounce of fat rested. In the dictionary, if one looked up the word
“lean,” there was Caden’s picture, the perfect illustration. He rubbed his
hands over his black buzz cut and then brought one hand down to the stubble of
his just-coming-in beard. Not only was he very fit, he was a very handsome
thirty-year-old man.
“What?” Camille asked. “You think you’re
too good for a guy with a few extra pounds on his frame? Think you’re slumming
if you take a walk on the fat side?”
Caden shook his head and put up his
palms in self-defense. “No, no, that’s not it at all. I don’t think I’m better,
not by any stretch. I’m just wondering why, lately especially, I’ve been drawn
to heavier men.”
“Is this something new for you?”
“Not really, but it’s only something
I’ve been acting on in the past few months. I have this friend, Bobby, who I
usually go out with and he’s, well, he can be kind of superficial…” Caden’s
voice trailed off as he thought of his gorgeous friend, who looked a lot like
the porn star, Dawson, with a trim build, cut abs, closely shorn auburn hair,
and luminous gray eyes. The difference between Bobby and Dawson was that Bobby
was much choosier than Dawson, although perhaps no less promiscuous—no mean
feat when one considered one of Dawson’s films was entitled Dawson’s 50-Load
Weekend. Anyway, this session was supposed to be about Caden, not Bobby. “And
he always gives me a hard time about wanting to meet, as I said, heavier men.”
“And this Bobby’s opinion is important
to you?”
“He’s my best friend.”
“Important enough that you would alter
going after what you really want for him?”
Camille’s question stopped him short.
He’d never really thought of it that way. Why did it matter what Bobby thought?
So what if he didn’t approve of the bearded redhead he met online and invited
over last week? And what business was it of Bobby’s if he liked to peruse the profiles
at footballplayerbuild.com?
Obviously, it bothered him enough to
bring it up here today with Camille, whom he had been seeing for the past three
weeks. His visits to her were his thirtieth birthday present to himself. He
hoped to figure out why, at age thirty, he had yet to find a relationship that
lasted more than three dates.
He had begun wondering if there was
something intrinsically wrong with him. He was a good catch—at least that’s
what his mother told him—but on paper, he did look good. No one could argue
with that. He was handsome, having inherited his mother’s Sicilian olive
complexion, black hair, and eyes that ranged from amber to green. His nose was
strong, patrician, some might say (his mom again, anyway). He wasn’t a
bodybuilder, but years of running four to six miles four to six days a week,
along with summertime lakefront bike rides, had given him a good, solid build.
And it wasn’t just in the looks
department where he thought he had a lot to offer. He had a good head on his
shoulders. That he got from his late father, who had been a fully tenured
professor of English literature at Northwestern University in Evanston before
passing away unexpectedly one morning in the bathroom of a heart attack. That
same head on his shoulders had given him, if not a stellar job, a solidly
respectable and reliable one as a copywriter at a medical association in
downtown Chicago. He had been there since graduating from Northwestern nine
years ago, starting out as an editorial assistant on one of their trade
journals.
So why did he feel the need to try to
apply the same standards Bobby applied to his own dates, standards that could
be summed up by Bobby with the initials FG, which stood for “fucking gorgeous”?
If a man was not FG, so Bobby’s rationale went, he was not worth fucking.
Sometimes Caden wondered why he had
Bobby as a best friend. But he could be hilarious at times, and he could be a
lot of fun. Caden on his own in a bar was a wallflower, but with Bobby, some of
his charm and charisma, the devil-may-care attitude, rubbed off on Caden.
Plus, going out with Bobby usually meant
he would hook up with one of Bobby’s FG prospects’ fucking gorgeous friends.
Because, as Bobby always said, “The hot ones travel in packs.”
Caden shook his head and looked at the
therapist, who was sitting patiently, waiting. “What did you ask me again?”
“I asked you if Bobby’s opinion was more
important to you than getting what you want.” Camille cocked her head.
“No, no, of course not.” He answered too
quickly.
“You know,” Camille said, “I’m like
what’s in your own head. There’s no need in here to try and come up with what
you think is the right answer. No need to censor yourself. Do I need to remind
you there’s no judgment here?”
“No.”
“So, I won’t ask you about Bobby’s
opinion again, but I do want you to think about your answer.”
“Why?”
“Because you brought up your attraction
to heavy men for a reason.” Camille shrugged. “It doesn’t matter so much what
the reason is, so much as it matters what you think about it. Look, people are
attracted to other people for all sorts of reasons, and there’s no right or
wrong way to be attracted. Take my mother—please!” Camille laughed. “Ever since
my father passed away a few years ago, she’s been all about younger men. And I
am not talking forties and fifties here. I’m talking about much younger, your
age, Caden, and even in their twenties. Mom’s sixty, but she’s a knockout.”
“Cougar?” Caden asked.
“Use that word around her and you might
get your eyes scratched out. Anyway, my point is that it’s what she likes, and
even though I did question it at first, especially when she was having me meet
guys who were younger than I was, it wasn’t my call to make. Attraction is
subjective—totally.”
“You’re right.”
Camille laughed. “I’m not looking for
affirmation. I just want to understand why you chose to bring up this
particular attraction with your therapist.”
And Caden realized he’d like to know the
reason himself. If he could only get a handle on it, a love handle, if you
will. He shook his head, censoring his inner Kathy Griffin.
The therapy session failed to illuminate
the rationale for Caden’s attraction, and he left Camille’s office with
homework not on why he was attracted to heavy guys, but why he felt that
mattered.
It didn’t matter, did it?
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Meet the Author
Real Men. True Love. Rick R.Reed draws inspiration from the lives of gay men to craft stories that quicken the heartbeat, engage emotions, and keep the pages turning. Although he dabbles in horror, dark suspense, and comedy, his attention always returns to the power of love. He’s the award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction and is forever at work on yet another book. Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…” You can find him at www.rickrreedreality.blogspot.com. Rick lives in Palm Springs, CA, with his beloved husband, Bruce, and their fierce Chihuahua/Shiba Inu mix, Kodi.
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