Unfortunately, the only thing on my mind at the moment (besides meeting my deadline) is disaster victims.

I’m from Alabama and most of my family still lives in the Birmingham area–some without power at the moment, but all otherwise okay. My sister lived in Tuscaloosa for 4 years when she attended the university, and many in the Harlequin family live all over the South.

Here in South Carolina, we escaped largely unscathed from the deadly storms this week. But, as I’m sure you’re aware, many cities in the southeast did not.

Still, in the aftermath, so many people are volunteering to help. Either by donating to the Red Cross or any of the other generous charities, or actually rolling up their sleeves and pitching in by hand. People are jumping into cars, trucks and vans to head to the disaster sites, giving of their time and hearts to help those whose lives have changed so drastically.

It’s times like this that I remember no matter how bad the storm, a rainbow does appear.

Take care out there!

The thing I’ve noticed lately is just how many movies I’ve never seen. Well, it’s actually been more as if the realization smacked me upside the head. It seems as though I’ve been involved in lots of conversations where people are discussing different movies and I’ve never seen them.

I’m starting a list of recommended films. Here’s what I’ve got so far:
There Will Be Blood
Tender Mercies
Cat Ballou
Sunset Boulevard
Life is a House
Meet Joe Black
Being There
Gattica

Last week I saw The Big Heat with Glenn Ford filmed in the 50′s. It was great!! Excellent writing and the actors really delivered. Anyone else seen it?

Tonight I’m treating myself to Get Low with Bill Murray and Jeff Bridges.

So, I’m looking to add to my list to bring myself up to movie speed. What would you recommend?

If there’s one thing Blaze readers know about, it’s yummy men, and once upon a time I was lucky to meet a legendary one–Cary Grant.  I not only got to meet him, I got to spend time in a coat closet with him! Yes, a coat closet.  Here’s how it all went down:  During the summer between my junior and senior years of college, I got a part-time job with TWA in passenger relations at JFK airport.  I worked in the domestic terminal assisting arriving and departing passengers and was basically a walking information counter.  Our uniforms were tres spiffy–designed by Ralph Lauren, no less!–and the job was an absolute blast.  Part of our job (which was really a perk, if you ask me) was escorting VIP’s. And that’s where I met Cary Grant.

The legendary Cary Grant

He and his wife Barbara were catching the afternoon flight to LA and my assignment (along with a senior passenger relations rep) was to escort the couple from the fancy schmancy Ambassador Club to their first class seats onboard the 747 (a tough job, but hey, someone had to do it!).  Now, company policy was that we weren’t supposed to ask celebs for their autographs, and I’d managed to refrain up to that point, not asking Cher, Ryan O’Neal, Farrah Fawcett, Muhammad Ali, Raquel Welsh or Peter Falk to name a few, but really–Cary Freakin’ Grant??  How many chances does one get to meet him?  What am I, made of stone?

So there I am, in the fancy schmancy Ambassador Club, and OMG, there’s Cary Grant.  Wearing those trademark black glasses, his silver hair perfect, wearing a white dress shirt and light gray trousers, looking utterly perfect and oozing class and debonair charm.  His wife is stunning and wearing some gorgeous dark blue ensemble that undoubtedly cost more than my car (this was back when people actually dressed up to travel, especially in first class), but really who cares about what she’s wearing when Cary Freakin’ Grant is standing there?!

The other passenger relations rep chats up Mrs. Grant, leaving me to chat up the legend himself.  And naturally, I’m completely professional.  I nearly faint and breathlessly gush, “Ohmygosh, Mr. Grant, I am your hugest fan.  Arsenic and Old Lace is one of my favorite movies of ALL TIME.  Do you think I could possibly have your autograph?”  Smooth–I’m telling you, I was reaaaalllly smooth.

He leans closer to me and says IN THAT VOICE WITH THAT ACCENT!, “Well all right, but I don’t want to give it to everyone.  Let’s go in the coat closet.”

Cary Grant in Arsenic and Old Lace

Since there isn’t a person on the planet who would argue with that logic, into the coat closet we went.  Now you must understand that this being the fancy schmancy Ambassador Club, the coat closet is a walk-in and a pretty good size–kind of long and skinny, probably about 8’X12’ so it’s not like we’re crammed into something the size of a Porta Potty (darn!).  Being the walking info counter I am, I carry a clipboard with a printout of the day’s flight information.  I quickly turn the paper over and present it to him with my pen, all while gawking at him in my most professional manner.  The conversation goes like this:

Carey Freakin’ Grant–What’s your name?

Most Professional Me: Jacquie

(He writes To Jackie then signs his name and hands me the clipboard).

MPM–Thank you so much, Mr. Grant.  But, um, you spelled my name wrong. (well, I had to say SOMETHING to keep the conversation going!)

CFG (looking startled)–Really? (takes clipboard back and says IN THAT VOICE WITH THAT ACCENT!)–How do you spell your name?

I spell it for him, slowly as to drag out our closet time together (why didn’t I think to say my name was Jacqueline??)  As I do, he crosses out Jackie and spells it correctly, then for emphasis adds a couple exclamation points.

CFG–(IN THAT VOICE WITH THAT ACCENT!) Why do you spell your name like that?

MPM–there was an actress my mom liked who spelled it that way**.

** (note–I’m 99% sure this is what I said, certainly it’s what I wanted to say, but I may have forgotten how to speak English, so there’s a chance I merely blubbered and drooled on his shoe—which was a perfectly shined black leather Oxford, btw).

Me and Cary in the coat closet. Yup, that's us. Really. I mean it.

While we were in the coat closet, we collected his garment bag.  Then with CFG’s garment filled with CFG’s clothes folded over my arm, I escorted him from the fancy schmancy Ambassador club to his first class seat (his wife followed with the other rep).  We made small talk, he was incredibly charming, and I could have listened to him talk for hours.  I still have that autograph, along with the others I collected during my time at TWA–Brooke Shields, Timothy Hutton, Dustin Hoffman to name a few.  All of whom were delightful and charming.

But none of them were Cary Freakin’ Grant.

Cary and his wife Barbara. Photo taken around the time I met him.

So–have you ever met a celebrity?  Were you calm, cool, and professional like me (cough, cough), or did you blubber, drool and gawk?  Is there a celeb you’d love to meet?  If you met him/her what would say?

Since many of you are stuck in the frozen tundra that seems to have overtaken virtually everywhere this winter, I thought I’d share a little hope that spring is indeed coming.

Eventually.

The flowering trees in my front yard

My neighbor's pansies

Today, it’s a balmy, sunny 68. (Though by the time you read this it’ll probably be raining. Again.) The pollen count is through the roof–the dog even comes in with yellow feet. And everywhere you look, there’s the color of spring.

In case you’re wondering, the palms are green all year around here–well, except for that crazy week in January when they were covered in snow. It was a little bizarre for this area, a once-in-a-decade kind of event. Other than flukes of nature, though, I only have to crack the front door to realize I live in South Carolina.

The palms by my front door

Which is important. Late Southern humorist Lewis Grizzard used to say he’d lived in the South his whole life– “…except for nearly three years when I was held prisoner of war in Chicago, Illinois. They have two seasons–winter and Fourth of July.”

While my experience above the Mason-Dixon wasn’t quite so traumatic, I did learn to appreciate the weather I’d been used to. I lived in St. Louis for three years. Loved the people, but winter was something that no doubt takes a lifetime to adjust to. I remember laughing at my firefighter neighbor on Halloween weekend the first fall I lived there. He was tromping around his roof, putting up his Christmas lights. I thought he was crazy. (To his defense, he didn’t actually turn them on until after Thanksgiving.)

He, however, knew what he was doing, since when I was putting up my lights the first weekend in December, it was snowing. This led me to the sage conclusion that listening to the natives was probably a wise idea.

While I’m pleased to look into my backyard now and happy to sit on my screened porch and type away, come July you northern-oriented gals can brag about balmy breezes and wonder how I can live in such oppressive humidity.

For now, though. I’m pretty comfy.

And I’m not talking about a road race. I’m talking runaway bride here. I’ve always been fascinated by the concept — the idea that something could hit you so hard, that you’d simply beat feet and run. In my March Blaze, IN THE LINE OF FIRE, that’s precisely what happens to Andi Mitchell. Panic follows fast and furious in the wake of an epiphany and Andi simply runs. Lucky for her, Major Colton Sawyer is there to help her with her getaway.

I’ve seen movies and read a couple of stories in the newspapers but I’ve never actually known anyone who was a runaway bride. Heck, I’ve never even known anyone who knew someone who knew someone else who was a runaway bride. It would be kind of freaky to know someone who’d bailed out on their wedding. It’d be equally freaky to show up as a guest at a wedding that wound up not happening.

Okay, so anyone out there ever been in that boat — you either knew a runaway bride or you showed up for a wedding but the bride or groom didn’t? Inquiring minds want to know.

Here in New England, the deep snows are finally melting and there are small but unmistakable signs that Spring is almost here…like the mad, chaotic frenzy that is The Prom. Although the big event is still two months away, the local Facebook pages are literally sizzling with everything prom-related. Being a fairly inefficient and clueless mom, I was completely unprepared for the commitment I was making when I agreed to help my daughter prepare for her first prom.

I’m dating myself here, but it’s been exactly 30 years since I went shopping for my first prom gown with my mom. I distinctly remember traipsing through the only mall within 50 miles, looking for that perfect dress. Back then, the perfect gown was a Prairie-styled, Gunne Sax gown by Jessica McClintock. The one I wanted was made of calico printed in a sweet, tiny-floral pattern, with sheer puff sleeves and ruffled wrists. Sadly, my mom refused to pay $180 for the dress of my dreams, insisting she could make me a much prettier gown for a fraction of the cost. I remember lying on my bed in tears while my dad patiently explained that my dress would be hand-made, not home-made. It would be beautiful. I was sure that I was going to be the laughingstock of the prom; the only one without a modern dress. In the end, the white-eyelet and satin dress my mother made was simple and sweet and completely beautiful.

Flash forward to today and the prom dresses are glamorous designs with red carpet appeal. Plunging bodices and bare backs, deeply slit skirts and slinky, shimmering fabric with beaded embellishments. I am completely stunned at the idea of my teenaged daughter wearing something so overtly sexy, but if I express my dismay, I’ll be seen as outdated and clueless about current fashion.

So I’ll remember the excitement of my own prom, and do my best not to seem too out of touch with the world my daughter is growing up in.

March is here! March is here! Well okay, so it’s not really here. It’s almost here. But in theworld of publishing, March books are hitting the shelves already. And in the marvelous world of Harlequin Blaze, subscribers have already gotten my March Blaze, In Good Hands by Kathy Lyons. And, to make this month extra knuckle-biting, my latest Jade Lee book, Wicked Seduction hits the shelves too. Now, I have to say, I love Wicked Seduction because I’ve wanted to do a pirate comes home book forever! And the hero is extra yummy (he even got an RT KISS award). But this is a Blaze blog, so I’ll tell you about In Good Hands. And lest you think I’m all about shameless promotion, I’m gonna talk about the reason I wrote the book.

So…why did I write In Good Hands? Because I know this woman. She had a lucrative career as an Orthopaedist. Well respected, did a ton of research, and…well, that research led her into the wild, weird world of energy healing. After decades of more research, she ended up leaving her practice to devote her considerable brain to energy healing work. In her words, Western medicine doesn’t get the whole picture. In some ways, it doesn’t even get close.

Far from being a condemnation of modern medicine, her example gives me great hope. We need more people like her in medical fields, constantly exploring wherever their research takes them. Even if it’s into energy healing. So, since this woman is my inspiration, I ended up writing a book based on that concept.

Now, don’t be afraid. I don’t go deep into medicine or the energy aspects that (incidentally) I have been studying for about a decade. In Good Hands is a romance story and a Blaze. My heroine is a doctor turned energy healer and my hero has a big problem that western medicine hasn’t helped: very high blood pressure. They wander through a variety of different energy healing traditions in search for a cure with hilarious results. It’s funny and it’s hot, and I had a blast writing it!

So, everyone, tell if you’ve experimented in the wacky world of the woo woo! One lucky commentor will get a copy of In Good Hands. (Or a copy of Wicked Seduction if you prefer!) And, btw, if you want to learn more about In Good Hands, here’s a link to my website. And for those who like pirates coming home, here’s the link for Wicked Seduction.

Well, I just posted that title because I liked it. No one’s crying here, but there is a party. And it’s a birthday party, folks. I take birthdays seriously. I think it’s truly the day to celebrate that person. And today we’re celebrating Blaze’s senior editor’s birthday. That’s right, Brenda Chin is the party girl today cause it’s her party and she’ll cry if she wants to — although we hope she’s smiling instead.

And I suppose we’re only supposed to say nice things about the birthday girl, but I’m going to beg your indulgence to complain for a few minutes. I’ve known Brenda now for thirteen years (I think that’s right, my math’s not so good). You know, most people have the decency to add a few wrinkles, put on a few lines — ya know, that thing call aging. Not Brenda. I’m telling you, it’s just not fair.

Okay, whew, I feel a whole lot better having gotten that out. Thanks for your indulgence and now let’s party on.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BRENDA!!

I’ve got heroes on my mind lately. (Fictional ones, mind you. I am happily married.)

Heroes are kind of my thing. Often I identify with the male protagonist more than the female. I like computers and fast cars, so maybe its part of my wiring, but I also like creating a unique character, building an interesting backstory and finally laying out the scenes to make a compelling story. (This instinct of control has to be pure female.)

Writing allows me to explore aspects of many types of guys, gals and relationships I choose, so I’m always interested in how other readers and writers feel about specific character archetypes. The bad boy, the conservative guy, the manly man, the cowboy, the executive or the prince. Alpha? Beta? Beautiful, rugged or average looking. Rich, poor or somewhere in between. With Harlequin’s varied lines of publication, you have a choice of any and all of them.

Since I recently agreed to a new 3-book Blaze contract, and my heroes are all over the board, I thought I’d ask your opinions about heroes you remember and love. (Call it market research.)

My guys range from the second son of an English lord, to an adventurous cowboy, then a hardened cop.

Are there certain heroes that push your buttons? Is it about a type or how a type is presented? Do some authors do it better than others? Why do you think (or not think) that’s so?

By the way, Roarke from the J.D. Robb “In Death” series is my all-time favorite, though there have been dozens of favorites over the years. I’d love to hear about your memorable characters.

Honestly, this isn’t just some New Year’s Resolution — it just happens to fall into that time frame. Jen’s got to lose some pounds. I’m about to say something I thought I’d never say, but I had gotten too thin. So, I put on fifteen pounds — really without meaning to but everyone told me how much better I looked so I thought, “this is cool.” But then I rolled with too much of a good thing and packed on another fifteen. Let me do that math for you — uh, that’s thirty. If it doesn’t have elastic in the waist, it’s not fitting, and even that’s a stretch — no pun intended.

It ain’t pretty. But I’m determined to take those last fifteen really ugly pounds off. Four down, eleven to go. Actually, I may have to round it up to twenty.

But the whole point is not how fat I’ve gotten but rather the process to take it off and not let it happen again. I can’t do a diet. It makes me crazy to count calories or fat grams or points.

The deal is I like good food, I’d just gotten into some very sloppy eating habits. Chips, fries, sausage biscuits, beer, wings, just about any kind of cheese. See, it’s no real mystery where that weight came from. I am, however, not one for munching rice cakes or celery sticks. So, at the height of my unhappiness with myself a good friend sent me Tosca Reno’s new book (published by none other than Harlequin ) YOUR BEST BODY NOW.

Great information, very user friendly and it got me back on track and inspired. I eat about 5 or 6 times a day. I haven’t been hungry and I haven’t had any cravings. Woot!

So, I think sometimes eating healthy comes with a connotation of eating boring or deprivation. Far from it. I thought I’d share this recipe I found on the ‘Net and made for lunch the other day. It was quick, easy and truly delicious. Just a note, I used a frozen salmon filet and subbed water/chicken broth for the white wine. Served it over a bed of mixed greens and it was yummy!

Here’s the link for roasted salmon with carmelized onions and figs:

http://www.inmamaskitchen.com/RECIPES/RECIPES/Fish/salmon_fig.html

I got a food processor for Christmas and plan to try my hand at making hummus in the next few weeks.

I’m fully convinced healthy eating need not be boring or limiting. If you have a healthy, tasty recipe you’d like to share, I’m all for it!