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Red Shoes Diary…

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Okay, so last night I had one of those quintessential Manhattan evenings that makes me proud to be a newly minted New Yorker tricked out in four inch red platform heels. Recently I reconnected with romance writer extraordinaire, Liz Maverick. Liz and I met “back in the day” at a Celebrate Romance Conference but beyond quick catch-ups at a conference here and there, we kind of lost touch. Like me, Liz is a recent transplant to the city, in her case from the West Coast, and a Saturday night out seemed as good a time as any to compare notes on our Single Girl in the Big City experiences so far.

Start point: Blue Ribbon Sushi in Soho where I met Liz and her buddy, Bonnie, for an early (for New York) dinner. After pounding down a truly amazing amount of excellent sushi, we headed Uptown to Terminal 5 where not one but three great bands were playing. The headliner, She & Him, was seriously amazing. The lead vocalist, Zooey Deschanel, who also happens to be a song writer and pianist, is so over-the-top talented it’s well…pretty insane.

This week my Manhattan adventuring will be put on the back burner as I head to San Francisco for the Romance Writers of America national conference. The conference kicks off on Wednesday night with a charity autographing to benefit literacy programs in the area. I’ll be signing copies of Bound to Please as well as Enslaved and later in the week giving a workshop on “Tracking Trends” in romance fiction with my friend, Terri Ridgell. In between taking care of “bizness,” there’s the Harlequin party at the fabulous Four Seasons Hotel and of course the conference finale, an awards ceremony and desert reception on Saturday night. Once I’m back in the city to catch my breath, I’ll be dishing on all of it–I promise!

In the meantime, have a great week…

Hope

Calling All Urban Cowgirls

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Okay, so I started off my Monday night with the best of intentions, namely to drop in on my French language “meet-up” group, say a quick good evening–better make that bonsoir–drink a glass of vino and then call it an early night and catch up on my zzz’s.

Then again you know what they say about the road to hell…

At the meet-up, I ran into a friend who persuaded me to extend my evening. Our first stop was Bryant Park. Through the summer months, the park’s Summer Film Festival presents free-to-the public outdoor films every Monday night. Last night’s selection was the classic “Arsenic and Old Lace” with the forever wonderful Cary Grant. You just don’t say no to Cary Grant…The park lawn was covered in blankets as movie watchers noshed on picnic fare, enjoyed the cool, clear (for Manhattan) evening air and yes, watched the film. Think Silver Screen at its best.

But there’s more. Afterward, my friend proposed we drop-in at Johnny Utah’s at Rockefeller Center where some other friends of his were bellying up to the bar’s mechanical bull. By that time, I was wide-awake and game to add to my mounting roster of Manhattan experiences, so I went along for the um…ride.

Johnny Utah’s bills itself as the ultimate urban cowboy experience and last night’s Bull Riding Challenge didn’t disappoint. Think single women, couples, girlfriend dyads, and yes, even the occassional strapping Manhattan male all riding to the um…range while a play list from hip-hop to classic rock blared in the backdrop.

Bull riding is probably one of those pursuits best left as a spectator sport and, in my defense, I wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion. So I passed–this time. That said, I was on that bull in spirit, really I was.

The above photos are, strictly speaking, from last year in Dallas. Still, you’ve met one mechanical bull, you’ve probably met them all. Then again, sometimes you just have to giddy up and go.

Hope

Happy Bastille Day from the Big Apple

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Okay, so admittedly Bastille Day was yesterday, July 14th, but alors, c’est la vie. I was too busy enjoying the festivities to report on them–my bad. Then again here in New York, Bastille Day isn’t so much a single day as a week of festivities and, quite possibly, a state of mind. My personal celebrating didn’t start until Sunday when I attended the Brooklyn Bastille Day street fair. A friend and I watched the festival goers play Patanque (a sort of hybrid of bowling and croquet) and then headed to the food and drink tent to sample a French aperitif–pastis–with an unpronounceable name as well as some traditional country French fare.

Last night I attended the Bastille Day Ball as the guest of a Francophone friend. The party was held at Spotlight, a club in Times Square, and sponsored by French Tuesdays, a group of Francophiles/Francophones with clubs not only in New York but also in Miami, Los Angeles and San Francisco. Traditional French music early in the evening segued to popular club tunes as the evening wore on, some French, others American, not that the crowd seemed to mind. Small groups gathered on the rooftop balcony, which provided a panorama of Times Square–think “bright lights, big city” at its magnificent best.

A bientot,

Hope

Win, win–win!!!

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Congratulations to the winners of my June contest, all of whom knew that in Bound to Please, Brianna says that love potions are for silly young maids. The grand prize, a signed copy of my paranormal romance, The Haunting, and of the talented Monica McCarty’s Highlander Untamed, goes to Jennifer T of East Millinocket, ME.

But, as they say, there’s more… My two second prize winners, Kitty S of Muncie, IN and Christine W of Lawton, OK, will each receive a signed copy of Vanquished, the first book in my “Men of Roxbury House” historical trilogy and signed cover flat keepsakes for Untamed, the final book in the series.

Many thanks to all of you who took the time to stop by and enter. If you didn’t win this time ’round, no worries. I’m repeating the same great prizes for the current contest, so if you haven’t yet, please take a moment to try again.

Hope

A Lip Sync-ing Good Sunday…

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A coupla weeks ago my best friend, Suz, visited me in New York. Over her three-day stay, we hit the usual tourist suspects, including the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. We also took time out for some amazing meals washed down with equally amazing wines.

Sunday brunch is a big deal here in the Big Apple and for Suz’s last day I wanted to do something special, something more memorable than the requisite coffee and eggs with jazz in the background. After checking with Suz to make sure she was game, I booked a reservation at Lips, self-billed as the “ultimate in drag dining.”

Having never been to a drag anything, I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect though I’d passed Lips many times on my walks through the West Village. Not wanting to miss anything, we arrived a few minutes early, and the host showed us to our table. Our server, Empress (see above photo with Moi), showed up in short order with a mimosa for Yours Truly and a Bloody Mary for Suz. Sipping our drinks, we gave our food orders and settled back to be entertained.

And were we ever! As this event was billed as a gospel brunch, the servers/performers all wore long purple robes and the requisite flowing wigs. Once the show started, they spent the next 45 minutes or so strutting their stuff and grinding their groove things while lip synching to a variety of popular 80’s dance tunes. (How can you not love “It’s Raining Men”!) Between each number, the emcee strolled between tables talking smack with the audience and generally having us rolling in, if not the aisles, certainly our seats. (The refills on the mimosas didn’t hurt, either).

If you’re looking for something a little different to do on your next visit to NYC, I highly recommend Lips (2 Bank Street, West Greenwich Village, NY). Plan on bringing an open mind and leaving with a smile. (The humor at Lips while good-natured and IMHO far tamer than much of what airs on today’s TV is definitely adult, so I wouldn’t recommend the restaurant for families with young children).

On a semi related note, a new friend of mine here in the city recently said, “God doesn’t make anything that’s not beautiful. It may not be your taste, and that’s fine, but it’s still beautiful in His eyes.”

Happy Pride Week,

Hope

Book Expo America 2008

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Sometimes you don’t actually have to be in the limelight to um…be in the limelight.

This year’s Book Expo America took place in Los Angeles. BEA is the largest publishing trade fair in the country, comparable to the Frankfurt and London Book Fairs. BEA is a great way for an author to build buzz for her book by connecting with publishing professionals–distributors, reviewers from Publishers Weekly and the like, publisher sales reps, and the list goes on and on.

For several years, I’ve been a regular participant, signing my books in both the Expo’s in-booth and “ticketed” forums. For various reasons (hint: do you hear “deadline” bursting out of my thought bubble?) I wasn’t able to attend this year’s show.

Imagine my delight when folks who did go started emailing me notes and yes, photos of the large–and I mean huge–backlit poster for BOUND TO PLEASE fronting the entrance to the Harlequin booth alongside Linda Lael Miller’s latest. Who knew!

To add another shmeer of cream cheese to the bagel, my other wonderful publisher, Medallion Press, had complimentary copies of all three of my Men of Roxbury House books: Vanquished, Enslaved, and Untamed prominently displayed in its booth.

I may not have gotten to go to all the great parties or rub elbows with the publishing brass this year but in a way, I was there. My characters certainly were. Party animals all, I’m sure they had a fab time. 😉

Hope

Win-Win!

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Congratulations to the winners of my April-May contest: Paula H of Norfolk, VA; Gail H of Junction, KY and Loretta W of Buckeye, AZ. All three winners knew that in Bound to Please, Ewan and Brianna play chess to pass the time while he’s held captive. (Okay, well that’s one of the ways they pass the time). 😉 As always, the answer could be found in the Helpful Hint excerpt included on the Contest page.

Paula, Gail and Loretta will each receive a signed copy of my most recent contemporary Harlequin Blaze, Strokes of Midnight as well as a signed cover flat keepsake for Untamed, the finale to my Men of Roxbury House historical trilogy.

Didn’t win this time ’round? Don’t give up! I have a great contest running from June 2nd through the 29th. The GRand Prize prize is an autographed copy of my paranormal Blaze, The Haunting along with a signed copy of bestseller Monica McCarty’s fabulous debut novel, Highlander Untamed. Two additional winners will each receive a signed copy of Vanquished, the kick-off to my Men of Roxbury House trilogy as well as a cover flat keepsake for one of my other books.

Many thanks to all who time out to visit the site and enter.

Hope

Chewing the…Hash

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One of the reasons I feel so lucky to be a writer is that I get to share my “world” with so many other folks, readers. These days the blogosphere affords the opportunity to chat up some of the really cool people and stuff I encounter in my “real” world, too.

If you’ve read this far, apparently you’re listening to me, which is a very good thing. 😉

Because I am bursting at the seams (no, not that kind of bursting though admittedly I’ve been hitting the Tasti Delite kinda hard) to talk about a great running club I just joined, the New York City Hashers.

Apparently hashing is tres international. It started in Malaysia in the late 1930’s, and there are groups throughout the US as well as the globe. In NY, the Harry’s Hashers chapter draws members mainly from Manhattan. Basically the group leader, called a Hare, chalk marks a trail for the rest of the runners, The Pack, to follow–or not follow. The run begins at a bar (excellent, yes) and the endpoint is yep, you guessed it, another bar. Most of the runners wait until the finish to imbibe. Participants toss about $15, Hash Cash, into the communal till, which covers beer and noshes for the night.

Last night was my first hash, and frankly I can’t wait to go back next week. About 50-60 runners met up outside of Suspenders Bar in Manhattan’s Financial District. Once the run got underway, folks got serious. While the web site gives the impression that the running part of the event provides an excuse to drink and socialize, don’t believe it. Harry’s hashers are seriously fit, with the majority of last night’s group running sub-nine minute miles. There’s also a nice mix of ages (anything from twenty-somethings to sixty-somethings), singles and married couples, backgrounds etc.

The approximately six-mile “trail” wound through the Battery, China Town, the Lower East Side, Alphabet City, and Gramercy. Sweaty but smiling, we ended at Plug Uglies, a gem of a dive bar in the East Village named for the New York street gang immortalized in Martin Scorsese’s GANGS OF NEW YORK. Ironically the present day pub is a popular watering hole for New York’s finest–note the police shields festooning the dark paneled walls–as well as running club friendly.

We hashers basically took over the place. Pitchers of icewater awaited and after downing the requisite rehydrating plastic cupful, most club members were ready for stronger stuff. Later (as in several Stellas later), there was toasting or rather roasting of the hash leaders, the trail, and specific members, including a dalmatian with a purported flatulence problem–or was that her owner? Last but not least for a turn in the spotlight were the hash “virgins” including…yep, you guessed it, Yours Truly, who had to down beer shots while the group cheered and chugged. Afterward, the leaders broke out the food, played shuffle board (a popular bar fixture), told runners’ “war stories” and just generally had a good time.

Whatever your outdoor passion–running, cycling, golfing, walking or even gardening–it’s spring for gosh’s sake, so make like the Nike ad and “Just Do It.”

Happy trails,

Hope

Happy Memorial Day

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Memorial Day weekend in Manhattan overlaps with Fleet Week, made famous (or is that infamous) by that great “Sex and the City” TV episode. Literally thousands of U.S. sailors, marines, and Coast Guardsmen (and women!) make port in Manhattan for a week-long celebration that includes public visitation of the ships.

I can’t say I’ve celebrated Fleet Week Carrie Bradshaw style–ever notice how *she* never seems to have revisions, certainly none that interfere with her social life? Still, when I have gotten out to soak up the spring sunshine, it’s been fun seeing tribes of crisply outfitted Navy men and women roaming the city in packs, savoring their shore leave in America’s most exciting city.

On occasion it’s also been heartwarming. Take yesterday, for example. I was headed east through Greenwich Village when I fell in behind a foursome of white-suited sailors. A bright-eyed elderly woman stepped in front of me, not as it turned out to knock me to the curb.

She reached into her purse, pulled out her wallet, and shoved a twenty dollar bill in one young sailor’s hand. “This is for your service, to show my appreciation for all you do to keep this country safe. I want you all to have a beer on me. It’s the least I can do.”

Random acts of kindness and senseless beauty isn’t just a catchy slogan that looks good on car bumpers. Some people out there, quite a few, actually, are living the dream.

Happy Memorial Day,

Hope

Girl in the City Part II: The Art of Living

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It’s Friday–again–and as I’m mapping out my weekend, my thoughts keep circling back to last weekend.

Since moving to Manhattan in February, I made a pact with myself to experience at least one new “thing” each week. In that spirit, last Friday and Saturday nights, I braved the elements (think wind, rain, more wind, more rain) and trekked out to the Chelsea Art Gallery District. Having been to many art gallery receptions, but none before in Manhattan, I have several observations to report.

First off, there’s no food, not a morsel, not a scrap, not a nosh, not a nibble. But then food is messy and distracts from the main purpose of attending a gallery reception, which is of course…

Being Seen. (And you thought I was going to say viewing the art, silly you).

Thankfully, there is wine, though usually stain-proof white. That said, one gallery had run out of even that by the time I arrived–for shame!

The reception experience varies greatly by the personality of a) the gallery and b) the artist or group of artists being shown. The first reception on Friday night, a series of black-and-white photographs with a sobering theme and a heavy political message, definitely attracted the older, intellectual set–think jeans and Ducoti leather wear and unapologetically gray hair.

Saturday night mere blocks away I attended two more openings, the first a family affair complete with strollers and young children racing around. Stain-proof white wine and designer water was surely the way to go. Yours Truly couldn’t fathom how the heap of soil–oops, I mean “art”–set in the center of the gallery floor managed to survive those eager-to-explore little fingers, but it was still intact by the time I left.

Gallery reception #2 featured “an exploration of the totality of color” and lots of “installations.” (Memo to Self: Manhattanites “in the know” get mightily miffed if you mispeak and say “sculpture.”) Yours Truly thought the um…”installations” amounted to old boards with nails hammered in–artfully hammered, not haphazardly hammered, but still–though naturally I kept such Simian thoughts to myself.

The attendees at this final reception were more gliterrati than intelligentsia, which is to say there wasn’t a scrap of denim in sight. Think “haute couture” as in off the runway, not the rack. I chatted briefly with one dashing fortysomething man, a student of the German artist whose work was being shown, who explained to me that he now has assistants who do his hammering for him. I also made the acquaintance of an exquisite older woman accompanied by her Peekaneese. After some mild coaxing, she (that would be the dog) performed several rolls for me in the center of the wide, glossy wood floor.

The dog really took to me, the people not so much. For one thing, I seemed to be the only one actually looking at the art–oops, I mean installations. Secondly, it was probably pretty apparent to the sponsors I wouldn’t be asking for a price list anytime soon.

As to what’s on tap for this weekend, that largely depends on the weather. I think I’ll likely skip the galleries this week, though when I do go back, I’m hoping to see at least one friendly familiar face.

I bet that dog has more than one trick up her sleeve.

TGIF,

Hope