Hop Against Homophobia and Transphobia

HAHAT 2014The Hop Against Homophobia and Transphobia has ended. Thanks to everyone who participated, and congratulations to commenter H.B., who won a copy of my new book, Love Has Reasons. The hop is over, but homo- and transphobia persist, so I’ll leave my rant against them below for you to enjoy: 

Chocolate LickFull disclosure: I think homophobia is scaredy-cat control-freak bullshit. You don’t know me. What the fuck business is it of yours what me and my husband get up to on the mornings when he just can’t let me sleep past four? (He loved when I was flying international; somehow me being cross-eyed exhausted is a huge turn-on for him.) (I said it was none of your business, I didn’t say I wasn’t gonna tell you all about it anyway.) There’s a tweet (apparently falsely) attributed to Morgan Freeman that used to get passed around with some enthusiasm: “I hate the word homophobia. It’s not a phobia. You are not scared; you are an asshole.”  While I can get behind this quip in spirit (cuz if you actively promote discrimination or bullying or general shit-headishness because Being Gay is Wrong!, you are an asshole, no offense), I take issue with its content.  I think homophobia and transphobia are absolutely driven by fear.  It’s just not me of whom active homophobes are afraid.  If you’re not scared to death of the rainbow-glitter-loving queer pounding on your own closet door and howling for release (ahem), the notion that me going about my gay business is somehow a threat to you or “the children” or “society” should be wholly foreign, if not downright laughable.  I hate to break it to you, but any moth drawn to this flame(r) is a little bit gay already. Everybody loves a chocolate fountain, but you’re not dipping your pound cake in one if you’re not already at the Golden Corral, iyou know what I mean… Continue reading

When a Doofus Loves a Drag Queen

Actually, Danny’s a well-educated and socially savvy attorney. But he is hot for Ashok, a sexy Santa Fe garbage collector who’s all man.  When he’s not glammed out in false eyelashes and silk saris. At 6-foot-10, with big ears and a crew cut, Danny does kind of look like a doofus, and I love my alliteration, so here we are.


Ashok is fit, charming, and dynamite in the sack; falling in love with him is a piece of cake. Embracing his alter ego, celebrated drag diva Raima Reason, proves to be more of a challenge. Danny divorced his wife for a reason, and it wasn’t so he could go out and find someone who takes even longer than she did to put on makeup.

Ashok’s old-country Ammaji is Raima’s biggest fan, and has relatives combing markets from London to Lucknow to keep her aglitter in the latest gear.  Danny’s best friend Schwartz is also his boss — he wants the best for Danny and his new beau, but business is business, and Danny’s got some decisions to make.  Among them: is a boyfriend who’s sometimes a girl more than he can handle?

Find out when my new short novel, Love Has Reasons, comes out in e-Book from JMS Books in two weeks, on May 25th!

Thanks, JMS Books!

Thanks, JMS Books!




Merci. (Beau Cul)


DSCN2824Bonjour!  I’m posting this photo, snapped by me about 4 years ago, because today (more than most days, you understand, although on a certain level this is more or less a permanent condition) I am longing for France.  My sister and brother-in-law are there now, fêteing his 40th birthday, and when my buddy passes go to Paris, I always feel like I should tag along and kind of tend to them.  I just figure, if my seniority date is going to show up on the manifest, my butt should be maxed out in a First Class seat with a glass of champagne to justify it.  (An attachment which, I should note, falls off drastically when my buddy passes are going to, say, Baltimore or Sacramento.)

I also post it for motivation.  Our friends at JMS Books put out a call for submissions recently for, among other things, Gay Vacation Romance stories, and the hope is that this photo will inspire me to write something brilliant and sunset-tinted about falling in love in (with?) France.  And I haven’t been in four years, so I’ll pretty much have to take the five days off I have at the end of this month, traipse off to Paris, drink wine and look at boys and call it research.  Cuz otherwise, my last “vacation” was hundred-hand penny Video Poker and chicken-fried steak and eggs in Central City, and nobody wants to read about that…