Squawk Radio

Kitty: Welcome, Jacquie. I don’t know if you know this but in a recent on-line poll you and me tied for Best Accessorized Woman at Sturgis — well, hell, of course you do! So my first question for you is for all those fashionistas out there—where do you buy a plush toy alligator purse?

Jacquie: Thanks for the welcome, Kitty. Great to be here. But what do you mean we TIED for Best Accessorized Woman at Sturgis?? That’s not what I heard. Last I heard, I’d edged you out in the shoes and purse categories, while you gave me the nudge in the support hose and rhinestone eyeglass categories. And that darn Eva Longoria chick beat us BOTH in the mini dress competition. Whattaya say you and I wait for her out in the parking lot and clunk her with the ugly stick? Get back to me on that. Anyway, about my plush toy alligator purse—her name is Allie and she accompanies me to all swanky functions. She’s vintage now—I found her in the last century in a boutique in Atlanta called Paper Affair. Allie has a sports-nut husband (Albert--he’s the mascot for the Florida Gators) and two children who chew everything in sight. She also has a tiara and a collection of bling to wear when we go to parties together.

Kitty:Now, my spies at RWA Reno told me that for the award ceremony—which you did not win but since no one else on this blog won either we have decided not to be sensitive about although I might point out that no one who DID win in 2005 has ever (or, knowing Brockway’s capacity for bitterness, will ever) be invited to be guest on this blog--- where was I? What was I talking about? Oh, yeah. Okay—I heard that you had planned to appear in some sort of get-up that would have put the Good Witch Glenda to shame. I didn’t see it at the award ceremony—what happened and was it really as, er, big and frothy as rumor has it and can you post a picture of it?

Jacquie:Ah—you must be referring to what I called my wardrobe malfunction. And let me tell you, Janet Jackson and Nipplegate had nothing on this disaster. Let me start by saying that the entire thing really is Teresa Medeiros’s fault. Yes, that’s right. Teresa may look sweet and innocent, but she planted an evil seed that led to a fashion disaster of epic proportions. You see, at RWA in 2004, Teresa wore this lovely gold, poofy dress that I called a Princess Dress. She looked gorgeous and I decided that next year (which was this year), I didn’t want a slinky dress, I wanted a poofy Princess Dress (as I said, all Teresa’s fault). But when it came time to shop for my RWA dress, there were no Princess dresses to be found! I searched everywhere, but no luck. Then, finally, I saw an ad for a store in Atlanta called Cinderella’s Closet! The perfect name! I’d find the perfect dress! I went to the store, and it was as if the mother ship had landed. Gorgeous Princess dresses everywhere. I bought the PERFECT dress—a frothy, poofy, tea-length confection with a gorgeous, delicately embroidered scalloped edge. I found the perfect shoes and earrings to go with it. The entire ensemble was PERFECT and I couldn’t wait to wear it. The night before my flight to Reno, I was packing. All my clothes were in the suitcase—all that was left to do was add the Princess Dress. This is when I discovered that due to Extreme Poofiness, the Princess Dress was going to take up A LOT more room than I’d anticipated . In fact, it was virtually unflattenable (not sure if that’s a word, but you know what I mean). There was No Way the dress was going to fit into my suitcase. I realized that the poofy dress required its OWN suitcase—and even that would have been difficult as due to Extreme Poofiness, the dress didn’t really FOLD (who knew tulle was so shockingly unfoldable??] Besides, I already had two bags to check in, so I couldn’t have another suitcase. The store had given me a fancy garment bag and had suggested I carry the dress on the plane, so I decided that’s what I’d have to do. But when I tried that, the whole tulle-doesn’t-fold-over problem again raised its head. The dress was so poofy, it wouldn’t fold over my arm, so the only way I could have lugged it on the plane would have been to hold my arms out straight and carry it. I tried it and my husband said it looked like I was carrying a dead body. I was distraught and stymied. It was first time a dress had ever gotten the better of me. After much fretting, I made the heartbreaking decision to leave the Princess Dress at home. I intend to wear it to RWA in 2006. The conference is here in Atlanta, so I can just lay that sucker across the entire back seat of my car and drive it to the hotel, where it will take up most of the closet space, but hey, my roommates will just have to suck it up. But between now and then, I’m going to bring it back to the store and have it de-poufed a bit so I’m not knocking lamps off tables. As for a picture, one doesn’t currently exist. You’ll have to wait for RWA in 2006. But hey Kitty—if you intend to compete with me in the Poofy Dress category, you’re going to have bring on your *A* game, toots.

Kitty: Snort. You expect to FIT into the poufy dress a year from now? You know some day, Lil Miss Svelte, the "Even Things Out" gods are gonna come after you and, honey, you are going to blimp out and blimp out GOOD! And I'll be there. Back to work...
Have you always been so fashion-forward? Or was your fashion sense the result of all the time you spent in a cloak closet with Cary Grant? (And THAT is why I get paid the big bucks, dear readers, I “get the dirt on any skirt!”)

Jacquie: Ooooh! How did you find out about that?! What are you—the FBI?? Yeah, yeah, I know, you have your sources. To answer your first question, I hate to dispel the myth, but I only get dressed up when I go to conferences. The rest of the time I’m in either jeans or shorts and a T-shirt, or sweat pants. I guess that’s why I LOVE dressing up for conferences and parties—the rest of the time I’m totally casual. Now, about my time in the cloak closet with Cary Grant—in my LBW (Life Before Writing) I worked for TWA at Kennedy airport. My first job with them was a part-time gig in passenger relations during college. It was great fun, especially since I got to meet a lot of celebrities. We weren’t supposed to ask for autographs, but every once in a while someone would come through and you’d just have to ask—I mean, how many chances do you get to meet Cary Grant?? Anyway, he and his wife were on their way to LAX and it was my job and a co-worker’s to escort them from the Ambassador Club to their flight (a tough job, but someone had to do it J). Since Arsenic and Old Lace is one of my favorite movies, I was totally thrilled. So I go into the Ambassador Club and there he is—all suave and handsome and distinguished, dressed in gray trousers and a white shirt. It required a huge effort not to drool on his shoes (Italian black loafers, btw). And oh, yeah, his wife Barbara looked nice, too. Anyway, while the other passenger relations rep chatted with Barbara Grant, I had a chance to actually talk to Cary Grant! Here’s how the convo went:
Me—(hoping I’m not looking too star struck and drooly) Mr. Grant, it’s an honor to meet you. I’m a huge fan. Arsenic and Old Lace is one of my favorite movies.
CG—(in that fab accent) Thank you. That’s very kind.
Me—I’m not supposed to ask, but do you think I could possibly have your autograph?
CG—All right. (Looks around and lowers voice) But I don’t want to give one to everybody. Let’s go in the coat closet.
Me—(no fool) Okay.
**Note—the coat closet is of the walk-in variety and well lit (darn). I hand him my pen and clip board (which has a papers on it containing all the inbound and outbound flight info).
CG—what’s your name? (my badge only read “Passenger Relations Agent)
Me—(after experiencing a bad moment when I couldn’t remember) Uh, Jacquie.
CG writes “To Jackie” and signs his name, then holds out the clipboard to me. Now, again, I ask you—how many chances does a girl have to be alone in a coat closet with Cary Freakin’ Grant?? Not many. So I sure as heck wanted my name spelled right.
Me—Actually, Mr. Grant, you spelled my name wrong.
CG—I did? How do you spell it?
I told him. He crossed out the wrong spelling, wrote it correctly, then added two exclamation points.
CG—why do you spell you name like that?
Me—My mom picked it out.
After that, I got to actually carry his garment bag (he offered, but I insisted—again when do you get the chance??) while I escorted him to the plane (much too short of a walk). He asked me about my job and school. I think I answered intelligently, but who the hell knows? He was debonair and charming and it was so exciting. I left him and his garment bag in first class and practically floated from the plane. I still have that piece of paper he signed!

Kitty: Yeah, but how was he in the sack? What's that look for? You mean you did not hit on him?! What a waste. What a crime. I'm disappointed, Jacquie, so before you tell me you met Hulk Hogan and didn't hit on him either, let's leave other celebrities and talk about YOUR celebrity.

You've got a new book out, NOT QUITE A GENTLEMAN. Your hero, my Nathan Oliver, was he based on someone you’ve slept with or only wanted to sleep with and who?
Because I have GOT to say, boy-howdy! I got to get me one of them! Whew!
Loved him. L-O-V-E-D him.

Jacquie: Thanks, Kitty! That’s high praise coming from someone who’s, well, not easy to please. Nathan is not only gorgeous and sexy, he’s a doctor AND he has a fabu bedside manner—not too many guys like that roaming around Regency England. He’s enough to make a girl WANT to get the vapors! He’s based on every man that every woman has ever wanted to sleep with—with sleep having nothing whatsoever to do with it.

Kitty: I know you don’t do series, but you do introduce characters in one book who sometimes show up in another. Do you have any plans for someone in NOT QUITE A GENTLEMAN?

Jacquie: As a matter of fact, I do. I’m working on the follow-up to NQAG which will feature Nathan’s brother Colin as the hero. And boy, does that poor guy find himself in a Mess! As for writing books about characters who show up in other stories, that’s a fact. Nathan was a minor character in Love and the Single Heiress (he was The Unfortunate Suitor). As soon as he showed up on the page, I knew he’d have to have his own book.

Kitty: Now, in case anyone out there doesn’t know, you not only have great shoes, do fabulouso regencies but you also write contemporaries, both the hot, steamy Blazes (and, by the way, my lawyers are looking into that. I told you that crap in confidence!) and romantic comedies for Harlequin. Myself? I’ve never found sex funny and yet there are times --and really odd times too--some of my boyfriends can’t seem to stop laughing. Do you work on books concurrently or are you a straight through to the end kinda gal? What’s your work schedule like?

Jacquie: Call off the lawyers, babe. I changed your name to protect the not-so-innocent. And the guy I gave you?? Honey, you owe me a pair of Manolo’s for THAT man—whew! As for your question, I’m a straight through to the end kinda gal (I’m not sure if that sounds quite right, but I’m going with it). After I finish a long Regency, I like to switch to a shorter contemporary. I think the change helps keep me fresh and motivated. I do have to make sure that my Regency-era heroine doesn’t whip out her cell phone or my contemporary hero isn’t instructing his valet to tie his cravat. But other than that, it’s a writing rhythm that works for me.

Kitty: Workaholic! What do you have coming out next and when?

Jacquie:I have four books out next year! A contemporary Valentine’s Day anthology entitled Sinfully Sweet in February in which all the stories revolve around chocolate, another contemp anthology involving summer love due out in early summer (when else?!), a Blaze involving an extreme adventure due out in late summer, and the Regency historical in the fall. Hey--no wonder I’m tired!

Kitty: Trust me, there are more interesting ways to get tired. Okay, time for the fun questions! If you were a soda brand, what would you be?

Jacquie: A&W Diet Cream soda. It’s my favorite and I can never find it at my local supermarkets here in Atlanta! L They have A&W Diet Root Beer, and A&W regular cream soda, but not the diet. I like my soda like my Princess Dresses—fluffy and poofy.

Kitty: What have you got in your purse RIGHT NOW?

Jacquie: Oh, Gawd, my purse is always a disaster. Okay, I’m emptying it out now--here goes—a baggie containing half a dozen Tylenol, my fat wallet which is full of receipts but has NO MONEY in it (only a creased and dirty looking 32 cent stamp in the change part), a pack of two Oreos from my last airplane flight (they were sort of smooshed, but still tasty), a box that’s supposed to hold 4 double A batteries but is empty, 3 double A batteries (I think the 4th one must have jumped ship), a tube of Neosporin (I’m a klutz), a tube of Dior Kiss lip gloss (hey—I’ve been looking everywhere for that!), three nickels (two of which have some sort of gum-like substance encrusted on them), four pennies, 6 quarters, a bunch of tissues of dubious cleanliness (I’m throwing those away), a new pack of Extra peppermint gum, an empty pack of Extra peppermint gum, my mini camera (was looking all over for that, too), an empty spray bottle that I think at one time contained hair spray (don’t know what happened to the hair spray), four chapsticks (one of them empty), cap to a lipstick (lipstick that would go with it nowhere to be found), a pencil (with no point on it), 16 (yes, 16!!) pens (now I know why I can never find a pen in my house!), 9 (yes 9!!) lipsticks, a crumpled up napkin from Starbucks, and a bunch of crumbs that are from God only knows what. I’m really glad you asked because my purse looks so much better now!

Kitty: The nickname you would most like to have earned?

Jacquie: Mother of the Year.

Kitty: One thing you wish you hadn’t done in the last month.

Jacquie: Accidentally washing a red shirt in with the whites—only to discover that my teenage son has a freakish aversion to wearing pink underwear. Pesky kid.

Kitty: Thanks, kid. Now, let's go hit the Flea Markets.