Just got news from Samhain Publishing, and Craving’s Creek, is coming out next year!

How do you return to a place you never really left?

Fourteen years ago, during a trip to Craving’s creek, a remote place in the woods, Ryde made a promise to Alistair, his best friend. He swore to him he’d never be alone in the world. It was the summer of their livesthe summer of their first kiss. And though Alistair’s religious parents said their only son was destined to serve God as a priest, Ryde told himself he’d blow up the Grand Seminary school before he ever let that happen…

Now, fourteen years later, Ryde’s life is a mess. He has a drinking problem, and hasn’t been able to forget what happened to Alistair at the creek. He can’t come to terms with the evil they encountered there on its shore. An evil so terrible, it scarred his life forever. He never saw Alistair again after that summer. Ryde spends his nights reliving that last day he saw Alistair’s eyes. The day Alistair was carried off into the woods.

Then a friend from the past announces her cousin is getting married, and the priest performing the ceremony is Father Alistair Genet. Everything comes back to Ryde, and though he’s up against the Church, the love he still feels for Alistair is stronger than anything. Stronger than God.

Now if he can just get Alistair to remember what they once had without breaking him apart.

Where you’ll find him

les-boules-roses-14For anyone who knows Montreal in the summer, these little pink balls (I know I know) are very familiar and signify SUMMER FUN in the gay village. This is where I live and where I set my latest novel, Where you’ll find him, which I’m thrilled to announce will be out next year, with Dreamspinner Press.

I volunteer for a support line and face-to-face outreach center near my home, and have always been in and out of community work, at one time taking calls for the first AIDS help line. Throughout the years, I’ve met some fantastic people. People who literally work for peanuts and offer their time to help others in need. It’s a private sort of thing for me and one I don’t go around “bragging” about, but it’s an important part of my life that keeps me balanced, because let’s face it, when you write five or six hours a day, you spend a lot of time alone and going out there to do a shift at the center really helps me stay grounded and humble. It also nourishes my psyche in a way that eventually finds itself in my writing. Why am I bringing all this up?

Because I wanted to share these people with you. Needed to open that wonderful world of non profit up, and reveal its importance and beauty. I wanted to write about people who aren’t very “in” and don’t have prestigious jobs or trendy apartments, but who get up every morning to help make the world a better place. In the last fifteen years that I’ve been around these people, there was one man who stayed with me, in my heart. And though I haven’t seen him or his boyfriend for so many years, I still remember the impact he had on everyone he met. He was young, dedicated, funny, sensitive, and worked his ass off for little pay in a community center in the gay village.

I based my new character Wolfe Byrne on this guy and the story just took off. The novel is set in Montreal, at the fictional YBR center I also based on a real place some may recognize, and Wolfe Byrne is the young director trying to save the center from being closed by the board…

Love is the last thing on Wolfe’s mind. Until devastatingly handsome Gaspard walks up to his stand on Pride community day.  Freshly divorced, Gaspard is finally out of the closet as bisexual, and single again for the first time in thirty years. When he meets the young and beautiful director of the YBR center, Gaspard falls for Wolfe in a way he hadn’t been prepared for.  But twenty-four years separate them, and as events unfold, and relationships unravel, Gaspard fights himself, telling himself he must do the right thing.

But Wolfe has spent his life fighting for what he wants.. And what he wants is Gaspard…

I’m very excited about working with Dreamspinner on this one and hope you’ll be interested in meeting these two men next year, to experience their love and committed to each other. I loved writing this book and I think Wolfe and Gaspard will always hold a special place in my writer’s heart.

Owner of a Lonely Heart




Many things have happened in the last weeks, including our move into our new gay village home…I’ve been settling in and working on my new book, while trying to keep the family occupied, happy, and away from the Internet and Television.

Our new place is in the epicenter of everything queer and my partner and I have been getting to know the neighborhood and its beautiful people. Finally, I’ve found my home here and my hermit tendencies are slowly fading out…

But the best news of all, is that I recently signed a contract with Less Than Three Press for my new book, Owner of a Lonely Heart, which will be included in their Intertwined-Poly-amorous collection. 

Very excited to be part of this!

If you’re curious about the new book, here’s the “blurb“.

Declan Lonely spends his life trying to forget his violent past, but now that his big brother Valens is out of jail again, Declan’s quiet existence as a teacher is about to be turned upside down. Adding to this chaos, his best friend Rhys announces he’s leaving for Poland, just as Declan was ready to finally confess his love to him.

Overwhelmed, Declan turns to his friend Felix for support. Still yearning for Rhys, he also finds himself falling for Felix, who’s in dire need of his affection. As Declan and Felix get closer, Declan discovers Rhys is very attracted to Felix too, and together, the new couple decide to show Felix what love really is. It’s a delicate situation, but their unique bond also heals their wounds, challenging their personal views on traditional relationships along the way.

Then, as soon as Declan feels safe, violence shatters his life again. But this time, he isn’t alone to face it. No, this time, he has all the love he’s always craved.

And then some…




M is for Mighty and Magnificent.

Ever since I was a little girl, I had a crush on Maleficent. 

Later, I wanted to be Maleficent.

In Chinese astrology, I’m the Dragon, and too often, I’ve had to tame the powerful BEAST in me…In a conservative Italian family full of misogynist men, women can be lambs, mice and kittens, but dragons…not so much. 

So, with the years, I kept the dragon chained up in its cave, until it lost its mighty flame and could only puff and cough. 

There is a scene in the movie, where Maleficent cries out in fury and pain, and her sorrow moved me to tears. A woman scorned is what she became, but revenge can only fuel your fire for a little while…

In love she gets her wings back, and I wish I could get mine. We all start out as fairies, innocent and curious about our world, until we experience betrayal and pain. Some of us turn to dragons then.

Villains in our own stories.

But we are not only one thing. We are both fairy and dragon, villain,,, and hero. Image

The place where darkness and light meet, is where a human heart beats.

In his secret life is a finalist for a Lambda award in the bisexual fiction category




Very shocked to say Davinder made it to the lammys.

In the bi fiction category too.

The most amazing thing is the company the book is in. I`m really overwhelmed to see the other finalists’ names right there with In his secret life…

I love Allen and Davinder! They took me there. Those characters are the reason the book made it this far.

Today is mom’s birthday. She would have been sixty-two years old if leukemia had not killed her. I believe this is her way of telling me to keep writing.

Those who follow me a little know I have had bad reviews for my last two books, but hey, I`m still here and still writing and hoping to woe you again.

Thanks to all of you on here who still buy and read books that are queer or gay or bi…written by guys or girls, straight or queer. As a bi woman, to be a finalist in the bi fiction category is EXTRA fucking special. I’ll tell you that much.

Now all I need is a bus ticket to New York:-)

This love ain’t finished yet


When Derek left Nick, he promised himself he’d never look back.

But almost a year has passed since then, and though Derek has found a new home, a new job, and new meaning to his life, his scars won’t heal, and Nick’s name is still written inside his purple heart.

All around him, everything and everyone is moving on, but Derek remains the same―a grown man with the heart of an eleven-year-old boy.

Until Nick does something that changes everything. Nick’s silent, but desperate cry for Derek, forces Derek to finally awaken to his own truth…  It’s time for him to rise up and out of the ashes. It’s time for Derek to claim back the man that was, still is, and always will be, his one and only true love.

Release date: December 2013

60 000 words, 1.99$

Loneliness in red and blue

“Only 28% of bisexuals have come out because of stereotypes in the straight and gay communities that they’re sex-crazed or incapable of monogamy, a new study shows.”




“The stereotypes, the biases, the invisibility, the lack of inclusion: These might be considered the top four reasons that many individuals who would otherwise readily identify as bisexual decide to maintain a distance from the label.”

“When someone asks a bisexual person if their sexual orientation is a choice, they are often wondering, “Could you be heterosexual or gay if you just tried hard enough?”




My new obsession with Jean Genet

Better late than never, they say.

Why am I just discovering this man’s work? Seriously, this is an important question. I’m a very curious girl by nature–always trying to deepened my thoughts and broadened my suburban-white-girl-franco-catholic horizons,  but sometimes, no matter how much I seek out knowledge and am willing to question everything I was taught, I still miss out on some incredibly important passages or people in history.

Especially if they’re queer. Or women. Or not white.

Because, those other subjects aren’t so easy to come by or find, even with the internet. You need to know what you’re looking for to find it online. What I’m trying to say is, everything I’ve ever discovered about people like me, has been accidental. Almost like a fluke. That doesn’t feel very safe or comforting. By safe, I mean, it doesn’t feel like I can trust what’s in front of my eyes. I have to put my face real close to the mainstream/straight/white guy/ veil in order to see on the other side.

For the femininity and queerness and ethnicity of the world to reveal itself to me…

I love David Bowie. Big surprise, right? :-) I used to sing to his song Jean Genie all the time, as a teenager. I loved the lyrics. I wanted to know what David meant. I wanted to know who this person was he was singing about…There was something in that song that connected with me. Something resonated with me. But this is before the internet and search engines. I didn’t know anything about David Bowie’s personal life and couldn’t put things together. Couldn’t connect the queer dots.

It’s lonely growing up when your friends fantasize about Corey Hart, while you secretly fall in love with Boy George and wonder what’s wrong with you.

Back to Jean Genie. Or Jean Genet, as I found out this week. Twenty years later, I’m finally putting the pieces together. David Bowie wrote that song with Genet in mind, and when I looked up Jean Genet’s work, something inside me leaped. Like if you found out, that for the last years, every time you turned on the radio, your favorite song had just ended. You never got to listen to it, yet it was always playing for you if you could have just tuned in earlier.

I watched Un chant D’Amour this week, a controversial little film made in the 50s , by Genet, about two prisoners in joining cells, sharing a wall, and much more than that. I won’t say more about it…It’s beautiful and erotic.

Genet wrote Querelle a Brest and a movie was made of it. It stars Brad Davis, and here’s another Ha-ah moment for me: for a long time, my favorite movie was Midnight Express. There was something about that character which again resonated with me. I never saw Brad Davis again, until this week, when I watched Querelle. Turns out, he was bi and married and passed away from an AIDS related illness in his forties. Again, that made my little brain reel.

All this connections…It makes you feel less lonely in the world, I suppose.

Why did it take me twenty years to discover Genet? Because, unlike Ridley Scott or Micheal Bay, or whoever else making movies out there, he was a queer man and somewhat of an underground artist. Yet, he was important man, and very much an activist. I should have been told about him at some point during my education. High School or Cegep, Drama, something, people. Please.

Why do queer people have to work so fucking hard to find these things out? I want my queer culture on a silver platter.

Then again, maybe not. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe this connecting the dots things is what keeps me searching, learning, and questioning.

But more importantly, it keeps me dreaming too.


Mr. Lonely

I picked up a Liepke reproduction at a thrift shop and after hanging up and staring at it for minutes with pure satisfaction, I checked up on the artist online and found treasure after treasure.

Sometimes, it only takes a song or a picture to get my imagination going…This guy has a story in my mind, and I’m going to write it. :-)Image




I had the chance to hear Basil read at the Bar Fly this week and really loved his presence on stage. His book, MountRoyal, is stirring up a lot of attention. He’s definitely an author to watch out for in the next year.

Montreal, late eighties, and Johnny is hooked on junk. 
In the “Open city”, he struggles to feed his habit alongside a cast of characters which act a bit like a fucked up Greek chorus, and all is pretty tolerable until Tony, their main pusher gets “relieved of his duties” for fronting too many times and coming up short, and good ol’ Johnny is handed a pager by The Man and steps into Tony’s shoes.

Thus begins a downward spiral for our hero, as he runs from whore, to girlfriend, to potential lover, to mama’s boys, to paranoid conspiracy theorist transsexual, to dominatrix, to pretty boy gigolos, trying to keep everybody satisfied and high, and accomplishing this marvelous feet while keeping his own habit on the level. 

These adventures of the damned take place in the claustrophobic neighborhood around the Main, in spots like La Cabane, The Bar Fly, The Bifteck, les Foufs, and around old Griffintown and the Milton district. For a Montrealer who still hangs around some of these places, it was simply fantastic to read about these iconic spots in all of their eighties’ glory. 

The writing is reminiscent of Henry Miller and has all of Burroughs wonderful wit and darkness, but the cool thing about Papademos’ narrator, is that he isn’t a writer or an artist, and so, there isn’t a sense of an outsider looking into the peephole. We are in the room with these people and someone is looking at us. Not the other way around.
Adding to this, is the tone of the novel, which begins with a sort of frenzied despair, and slowly releases into a more melancholic, almost contemplative mood.

The novel ends with the Montreal Massacre, and I loved the way nothing but a few sentences were enough to give me chills.

Now, what about the MountRoyal in all this?

The Mountain is a character is this book. It acts as a temptress, a mother, a sister-in-arms, a vixen, a teacher, and for some, it is the Grim Reaper, come to claim her dues.

The language is sharp, the prose is at times richly poetic, the insights are great and right-on, and there is of course, just enough controversy and sex to quickened the blood.

It depicts a time when Montreal was indeed, an open city, when there was a sense of freedom here…
It really is a snapshot of a time and place worth remembering and this novel should and will take its place in the ranks of those important novels, alongside those books which chronicle the underbelly of cities. 

Those books that show us the stained panties under the million dollar dress.