I couldn’t come up with a specific blog theme so today I’m going to treat you — hahahahahaha — to a consortium of random musings concerning my current obsessions. I know…try to contain yourself.

1) I’m obsessed with the weather. I probably blog more about the weather than any other author on this loop. What can I say other than it was a freakin’ wonderful 70 degrees Farenheit yesterday in Atlanta, GA? What I can say is that I’m sick of being cold. I know some of you live in a veritable winter wonderland where snow drifts are higher than your cat/car/house (pick one of the aforementioned) and I hate that for you. However, I’ll tell you what I hate even more…I live in a really cool loft apartment that is over 100 years old complete with huge factory windows that are single-paned. When I say it’s a cool apartment, well…take that both figuratively and literally. I’ve frozen my behonkus off this winter. When I finally decided to up my heat (and we’re not talking balmy here, folks — I’m still in a long-sleeved shirt with a sweatshirt over it), well, I got that gas bill. And had a heart attack. I’m trying to decide if I want to hock my dog on Craig’s List to fund my payment.

2) I’m not quite there yet, but I’m close to obsessed with working out. I did two classes back-to-back last night. Although the first one didn’t really count because it was a Step class and I’m so spastic I couldn’t get any of the steps down other than the basic up on the step and back down again thing.

3) Musicals. All of a sudden I’m planning to see Fiddler on the Roof and South Pacific within a four-week time span. I’d kind of forgotten how much I like musicals. Wonder when I might be able to catch Okalahoma?

So, that just about covers my current obsessions. What about you? What’s caught and held your attention lately?

Wait…it is your birthday!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BRENDA CHIN!

You got it folks, the Queen Bee of Blaze is…wait…I haven’t totally lost my mind. I’m not about to divulge an actual number. Just suffice it to say that Brenda isn’t another year older…simply another year better!

So, please join me in wishing Brenda a Happy Birthday…and many more!!

Yes, I apologize up front for blogging about, of all things, the weather, but unfortunately since I’m freezing my… everything off, that’s about all my brain is capable of thinking about right now.

I live in the South for a reason. I don’t like the cold. I have my weather page set to display my weather, Lakeville, MN (one brother), Frederick, MD (another brother), and Toronto, Canada (beloved editor). It’s as cold in Atlanta as it is in freakin’ Toronto and Maryland (yeah, still not as cold as Lakeville, thank God). What’s wrong with that picture? I’ll tell you what’s wrong — it’s not supposed to be that cold down here. And now we’re set to get snow. Do you have any idea what that means in Atlanta? Simultaneous freak-out and shut-down. Grocery stores are packed. School are already closing. Oy.

And to add insult to injury, MSN home page had pictures of a Carribean beach up yesterday.

Now, I know it’s just my particular makeup that I prefer warmer weather. The fact that millions live in the frozen hinterlands is proof of this. I almost asked if you’re a coldie or a hottie but that really doesn’t sound right. How about this — do you prefer a colder climate or a warmer climate? (Sounds so much more stilted but accurate nonetheless).

Admittedly, I am always the one whose ears perk up when the word “party” is mentioned. I’m not so fond, as in I HATE, a huge annonymous soire but give me a group of good friends getting together to celebrate and I’m all over it.

So, I had this blog planned around Christmas trees — as in real vs. artificial trees. The bottom line is that I’ve never had an artificial tree. Most of the people I know have artifical trees — nuthin’ wrong with that. I’m just a hold-out. Hey, I figure someone’s got to keep the tree farmers in business. I like me a real tree — and yes, I do recycle it to the mulch pile afterwards.

Anywho, I had this blog planned but then something truly exciting and party-worthy happened — Romantic Times announced their nominees for Best Blaze of 2009!!! Hel-lo. Being the Blaze blog, how could we possibly bypass this opportunity to celebrate the nominees and party down?

So, the champagne fountain is flowing, the martini bar is open and chocolate-dipped fruit is available to all. Pick your toast of choice and join me in saluting the RT nominated Blaze Babes (y’all do us proud!):

A LONG, HARD RIDE
Alison Kent (Mar.)

MAKE ME YOURS
Betina Krahn (Jul.)

SHE’S GOT IT BAD
Sarah Mayberry (Apr.)

LETTERS FROM HOME
Rhonda Nelson (Jun.)

HOT UNDER PRESSURE
Kathleen O’Reilly (Aug.)

And a special toast to Blaze Babe Leslie Kelly for her RT Lifetime Achievement Nomination.

So, join me in the party and in offering congratulations! (And hey, I’m still interested in whether you do a real tree or not )

It is my sincere hope/prayer/desire to never write a heroine who is TSTL (too stupid to live). However, sometimes my heroines certainly manage to do some off-the-wall stuff. Unfortunatley, they come by it naturally because off-the-wall, dingy moves seem to be my norm.

Let’s go back to Saturday afternoon. I need a pair of jeans. I wore shorts and skirts and capris all summer but summer has come and gone and we’re back into blue jean season which is cool but I only have two pair of jeans — one to wear with flats and one to wear with heels. Sorry, but you simply can’t wear two pair of jeans seven days a week which necessitated in a shopping trip for Yours Truly.

So, I’m walking along the sidewalk when my friend calls just as I’m entering The Gap. We talk as I’m pulling blue jeans to try on. I head to the fitting room, still on the cell phone. We’re talking and I’m trying on. First, let it be known that Gap (and I’m not picking on them) sizing is traumatizing in that it’s all over the friggin’ board depending on the cut. I don’t need any additional stinking trauma. I’ve gained ten pounds. Two went to my boobs, the other eight is parked on what used to be my waist. About the time that I try on a pair of jeans which fit through the derriere but which prominently showcases my muffin-top from HELL, my friend has her own mini-crisis and has to go. No problem. I put my phone away and continue shopping. At one point someone else actually takes over my original dressing room. Fine. I take the one two doors down.

I finally find a pair of jeans that kind of, sort of fit and haul them and myself up to the register. That’s when I ask the only person in the store (they were short-handed) if these jeans are going to stretch out. She assures me they will. Wrong answer. If they stretch out, it’s going to look like a family of gypsies moved out of my pants. Great. I try on the size smaller and once again I’m plagued by the MTFH (muffin top from hell). Only this time it’s a gazillion times worse because this is the smallest size that’s ever been on my body and the insult to injury is that part of it actually fits. Well, it all fits, but it just looks disgusting with that mid-section spillover.

Nope. I’ll make do with two pair of jeans for now. I head out of the store, looking on my way out for my cell phone. It should be right in the front pocket on my purse. Nope. Must’ve tucked it in the inside purse pocket then. Nuh-uh. I rifle through my purse. Nada.

Now I’m starting to panic. I retrace my steps. No phone. I have the lady behind the counter ring my phone while I listen intently. Nothing. I call and leave a message so the message alert will go off. Once again, nothing — no sound. I’m not proud of it, but right there, in the middle of Gap, I started crying. That phone contains at least four years of contact information. All I could think was that the person who went into the dressing room after me found and absconded with my phone. At this point, I promptly burst into tears. The phone is mega-cheap and I pay by the month, but it has ALL of my contact numbers on it. I no longer have a home phone. My lost cell phone is my only link to friends and family and I was careless and put it somewhere stupid where it was promptly stolen.

I went home, communicationless, and decided on Sunday I couldn’t stand it and would have to replace it. However, on the way to the phone store I ran by The Gap. They had my phone. Apparently, I’d stuck my phone in the pocket of a pair of try-on jeans. I was SO relieved to have my phone back but I’ve got to tell ya, I felt like a major nimrod.

So…make me feel better. Share something equally stupid you’ve done lately, because at this stage of the game, quite frankly, I scare myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m as fond of a sunny day as the next person, but I’ve discovered that my absolutely favorite working condition is a rainy day.

For me, when I’m writing, when I’m really into my story, it means retreating into the story. There’s simply something about the rain coming down outside that fosters that retreat for me. I can cozy into the story and the writing. Hey, it’s raining, what else am I going to do? Even the dog doesn’t demand to go outside when it’s pouring. Nope, she discovers newfound limits to her little canine bladder and settles back down on the couch.

But give me a bright sunny outside and it becomes dang hard to keep my butt plastered in the chair. If it’s not swelteringly hot, I want to do something other than sit in front of the computer. A sunny day begs for a long walk with poochie moochie or getting out to run those errands or even occasionally with the sun slanting in to reveal the dust on the tables and the dirt on the floor I’m inspired to clean. It does not, however, inspire me to bury myself in my book. It distracts me.

Yet another upside to a rainy day is the sheer gratitude it inspires. We’ve had some torrential rains in the last couple of weeks — so much so that my county has been declared a disaster. Lying in bed with the rain coming down in sheets, I can only think how glad I am that I don’t have to get out in that mess and commute in Atlanta rush hour traffic. I’m so darn grateful that I only have to pad from the bedroom to the den in my pj’s to show up for work that I tend to work even harder on those days.

Thank you, I don’t want to move to a place where it rains constantly, but if I could just order up rainy mornings and end with a sunny afternoon, well…that’d be just fine by me. What say you? Do you like a spot of rain or are you purely a shine purist?

Okay, I’m not altogether sure that I should be saying this on the blog. Like maybe some blog-police fairy is going to show up and snap me in cuffs. But the truth of the matter is I hate every book by the time I finish it. My October release, RIPPED, is no exception. By the time I turned it in, I sincerely never wanted to see it again. It’s not that I don’t enjoy writing the scenes, that I don’t love the characters but I’m usually just tired of trying to live up to my own neurotic Virgo perfectionist tendancies. Given my choice and no deadline, I’d drive myself insane by “tweaking” a story until one of us — either me or the story — expired.

And then a couple…or several…months pass and my advance copies arrive. I’ve had some distance. I’ve started and finished yet another book. I’ve gained perspective. So, I open that shipment of advance copies and read the story that just a few short months ago I hated.

I’m pleased to say that at that juncture I can almost always say, “I like you now.” Once again, RIPPED is no exception. I can’t imagine writing Lt. Colonel Mitch Dugan or Eden Walters any differently than they show up on the page. And I know that Eden is exactly what hard-core paratrooper Mitch needs and vice versa. (Good thing, too, considering this is romance I’m writing.(H) )

So, while everyone’s busy running around on this Labor Day weekend or maybe you’re stretched out on a pool or beach or your couch at home reading, take a second to say “I like it now” about whatever your latest labor of love has been.

Have a good one and if you’re traveling, here’s hoping you travel safe.

For years I could only work if I was parked in my office chair in my office at my desk. Call me a creature of habit. Call me nutty. Call me a new chick with new-found flexibility. So many of my writer friends would tell me about going down to their local coffee shop to write and I simply couldn’t wrap my head around that notion. How the heck could they do that? How’d they survive the distractions? The noise?

I finally get it. Starbucks is my newest productivity friend. Plug in my headset, give me a water or a venti Tazo black sweet tea with light ice and I’m set. The counter staff knows me by name. They occasionally ask how the book is coming along. In fact, I’m perched at one of the tables as I type this.

So, the whole point is not that I’m a new Starbucks devotee but rather the whole idea of opening yourself up to a new or different process. I finally figured out that I could write under different circumstances than at my desk, in my chair. It’s been very liberating and oddly empowring — I suppose the notion that an old dog can, in fact, learn a new trick.

What about you? Any habits you’ve changed lately? Any new notions or way of doing things that you’ve embraced?

There are two things you can bank on when you pick up a Blaze. There are going to be rocking love scenes and there are going to be romantic moments . One of the standards of romantic gestures are flowers and/or a candlelit dinner.

However, because I can be sort of contrary on occasion and seometimes like to veer from the norm I love to toss in romantic gestures in my books that have nothing to do with candles or chocolate (though I’m very fond of eating chocolate while writing) or flowers.

In one book the heroine is sobbing, with good reason, and the hero isn’t sure how to comfort her so he goes and gets a cold wet washcloth for her and blots her face. Imo, it was tender and achingly romantic…and led to one of those rocking love scenes.

In another book, the hero takes the heroine to the place he wants to build his house. He’s a very private person and this isn’t something he shares with people normally. It was romantic and once again, led to one of those love scenes. (Are you noticing a pattern — those romantic moments are usually followed by one of those love scenes? )

For me, romantic gestures are more than just showing up with flowers — although there’s nothing wrong with flowers, by any means — but the real romantic gestures are those where the hero does something that really meets a need for the heroine or makes himself vulnerable to her. And what’s considered romantic by one person isn’t necesssarily considered romantic by another.

So, what hits your romantic gesture barometer? What’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for you? (And…uh…we don’t need to know about the rocking love scene that might have followed )

While Blazes center on relationships, there’s no denying that the setting for a book can almost become a character in and of itself. Thus was the case with my current Blaze, third in the 0-60 miniseries, HOT-WIRED. Alison Kent, Julie Miller, Lori Borrill (Lori wrote the online prequal), and I wanted a special place in which to set this mini-series. Together we created Dahlia, Tennessee. Dahlia’s the quintessential small southern town with Main Street shops centered around a town square park. In Dahlia everyone knows everyone elses name…and their business. It’s also the kind of place where everyone will chip in to help out a neighbor who might be down and out on their luck. By the time we finished writing our books, we unanimously agreed we all wish Dahlia was real because we’d all LOVE to go there.

So, I’m interested in hearing about the most magical place you’ve ever created or “visited” in a book. Where’ve you been in your head that you wish was real?