One day this past spring, I decided to drop in on a friend…let’s call her Mary. Mary lives in the same small Connecticut town as I do…a sweet, friendly little town with nice neighborhoods and pretty trees, a lovely library and a great ice cream stand.

I got to my friend’s house, which is on a quiet little cul-de-sac. Another friend’s easily recognizable car was in the driveway. Great, I thought. Mo (not her real name) is here too! I’ll be able to see both of them! How nice! I knocked. No one answered. Mary has two rambunctious dogs who usually hurl themselves against the door, frantic to lick visitors, but they didn’t seem to be there. Only the screen door was closed. “Hello?” I called? Mary? Mo?” The only answer was the faint barking of the dogs who, from the sounds of it, were in the basement.

Now, Mary is a very cautious person. It wasn’t like her to leave the house unlocked. Her car was there in the driveway, right next to Mo’s. Surely, they must be home. Mo often consults with those of her friends who need a little wardrobe help…maybe the ladies were upstairs, in Mary’s bedroom. I opened the door and called out, “Mary? Mo? It’s Kristan!” No answer.

I went into the kitchen. Mo’s purse was on the counter. “Guys? It’s Kristan!” Still no answer. The house was oddly quiet. Sinister? Maybe. But, using common sense, I deduced that they must’ve taken a walk. This was a little unlikely, but possible, so I got back in my car and drove around the block. No one was there. No one was out on the main road, either. I drove up a little way…no one. Drove down an adjacent road. No one. Huh, I thought. That’s strange.

It was strange. Really strange. And this is where the downside of being a writer comes into play.

Images unfolded of what must have happened. Clearly, both of my friends were being held upstairs by a burglar/serial killer/total bad guy. Duct tape was over their mouths, and the burglar/serial killer/total bad guy had a gun on them, warning them not to call out to me. Me. Kristan Higgins, their only hope. No wonder the dogs were in the basement. No wonder both cars were in the driveway, the door to the house unlocked. It was all making sense.

How horrible for Mo and Mary, hearing me call their names! Help us, Kristan, they must’ve been thinking. Please, don’t leave! Then, when they heard my car start, how their spirits must’ve withered! When the police called me later, I would be so horrified to realize I’d been there and left!

I have a hero complex, I’ll be honest. Nope, never saved anyone, but I intend to, let me assure you. I’m always picturing how helpful I can be, whether it’s running into the waves to beat the shark of someone’s kid or pulling a pregnant woman from a burning car and then have her name her baby after me. I was not about to leave my friends bound and duct taped, no sir!

Hands shaking, cell phone out, pressing 9, then 1, then, with my thumb hovering over the 1 just in case, I tiptoed into the house once more. First, I checked the cellar. The dogs, thrilled to see me, whined and sniffed in ecstasy. No sign of bound and gagged friends. Slowly, so as not to warn the burglar/serial killer/total bad guy to my presence, I eased up the stairs. No one in the children’s rooms. No one in the bathroom. That left just Mary’s bedroom. Her door was closed.

What to do next? Well, as I have seen Jean Claude Van Damme do in many movies, I took a deep breath, thumb still ready to summon the authorities, and I kicked that door open. Bam! Jumped into the room, heart thundering away, ready to save my friends and kick some butt…alas, there was no one. What about the closet? a little voice whispered in my head. What if he has them in Mary’s big closet? Huh? Bam! Kicked open the closet in similar format — no one.

My legs were shaking wildly, my breath came in short gasps, though I’d done very little in terms of physical exertion. Looked like my friends were…um…well…not here. I wiped my footprints off the doors, peeked into all the rooms once more to make sure no one was cowering in terror anywhere, then once again got back in my car. I was spent, I tell you.

As I drove down the street, whom did I see, you ask? Why, it was Mary and Mo, chatting and walking. In typical mother fashion, I pulled up sharply beside them. “Where have you been?” I demanded. “I’ve been worried sick! I thought you were tied up with duct tape in Mary’s bedroom! And I want you to know, I came back for you! I almost saved you!”

Mary stared at me (her husband is a psychologist, so no doubt she was working through some scale of mental instability). Mo laughed long and loud. Eventually, they were both quite flattered to know I was ready to take on the burglar/serial killer/total bad guy, just for them.

Tell me your best story of overactive imagination! I’ll send one commenter a copy of Too Good To Be True, another story of imaginion on steroids.

Lynz is the winner! Please send me your mailing address to janette AT jankenny DOT com and I’ll get your autographed novel in the mail.

Thanks to all who commented!

On AOL (my favorite place for news) an article by Kelly Woo caught my eye. Here’s the article…see if you agree with her assessment.

Fall TV is back in session, and the tube returns from its summer break with a shiny slate of new shows. But which ones will pass the test and become hits, and which ones will flunk out after a few episodes? Here’s our guide to the best and worst of 2009′s freshman series.

HEAD OF THE CLASS

‘V’
ABC’s worthy successor to ‘Lost’

‘Modern Family’
This smart, wry ABC mockumentary about three “normal” families was our favorite new comedy.

HONOR STUDENTS

‘Glee’
Aside from fun sing-a-long potential, there are relatable characters of all ages, types and cliques. And speaking of the education system’s losers …

‘Community’
The entire ensemble works together to make this comedy hum.

‘FlashForward’
Where ‘V’ is more of a thriller, this other ABC drama inherits ‘Lost”s more puzzling elements.

‘The Good Wife’
CBS’ ‘The Good Wife’ moves beyond its ripped-from-the-headlines origin thanks to a top-notch cast, including star Julianna Margulies

NEEDS TUTORING

‘The Vampire Diaries’
We like vampires — especially very pretty vampires — and soapy teen CW dramas as much as the next person, but is it too much to ask for a little levity amidst all the angst?

‘Three Rivers’
It had us at Alex O’Loughlin, but CBS’ new medical drama about transplant surgeons felt a bit formulaic.

Okay, I’m going to throw in my two cents worth. I have to say I’ve been verrrrry pleasantly surprised by The Good Wife. Just like Castle (which I ended up loving), the previews turned me off…but I really enjoy the show.

I’d like to hear your thoughts…not only on the new shows, but on the returning ones. Any surprises? Disappointments?

See, I have always wanted to write a story set around the Mayan Riviera with the vast sisal plantations and their sprawling old haciendas.

It’s such an exotic locale, so steeped in violent history, grandeur, and romantic lore.  So the Yucatan Penninsula was the perfect location for my second Harlequin Presents romance.

My editor told me that Proud Revenge Passionate Wedlock was the first Presents set in Mexico, which surprised me. Yes, I’ve read a lot of Presents over the years, but I thought that I’d just somehow missed the ones set in Mexico.

I loved writing this novel because it allowed me to explore a theme that I’d always wanted to do. A couple whose marriage had hit the rocks, yet both still loved the other. With deceit, lies and grief swelling between them with each breath they took, was it possible to reclaim that love? Could they start over  and build a stronger marriage this time? Should they even try?

For Allegra, she’s returned to the Yucatan for one reason. Closure. She can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t think of a tomorrow until she’s buried her past.  Until she’s let go of the man she loved with all her heart.

I’m giving away an autographed copy of Proud Revenge, Passionate Wedlock to one commenter. Your choice if it’s a Harlequin Presents or Mills & Boon Modern edition! Tell me what was your favorite reconcilliation story. And if you haven’t read one, what was your favorite Modern or Presents title? I’ll announce the winner on Sunday.

I proudly admit it.  I adore cats.  They are, without doubt, my favorite pet.

My teenage daughter likes teasing me that one day, she’s going to bring home one of the snakes for sale at the local pet store; I squint my eyes at her and say “no way.”

“Can I have a pet spider then, Mom?”

Shuddering right down to my bones, I say, “Even more, no way.”  (I absolutely hate spiders).  She laughs and tells me I’m going to end up a “crazy cat lady,” with a house full of felines.  She’s probably right.  My ever-patient husband just rolls his eyes at me.

It’s not that I don’t like dogs.  When I was a child growing up in British Columbia, Canada, my parents adopted a beautiful, sweet-natured collie named Tasha who let us dress her up in underpants and jewelry, pulled our wagon, liked to eat snow, and romped with us in the grassy field across the road.  After Tasha died, and I worked as a teenager at the local humane society, we adopted a German Shepherd we named Freyja, after the Norse goddess.  We brought home a skinny, frightened dog with cigarette burn marks on her nose inflicted by her former owner.  She grew into an affectionate and fiercely loyal pal who lived a long and happy life.

I’ve also had cats all my life:  a fluffy, golden and white male named Dandelion, who was my constant companion as a child.  I remember carting him off to school in a cardboard box for Show and Tell.  When I married and moved to Florida, my husband and I adopted a rambunctious ginger kitten from the humane society and named him Tango after a fizzy orange soda sold in England.  Bossy, lovable Tango grew to be almost twenty pounds at one point in his life, and lived to be sixteen.  Taking him to the vet right before Christmas last year to end the pain of his kidney disease was one of the hardest things I have ever done.

When I realized Tango’s health was failing, I knew I had to find a way to keep his memory.  He inspired the old ginger cat named Merlin in my medieval historical romance My Lady’s Treasure, loosely based on the legends of King Arthur and the quest for the Holy Grail.

We currently have two cats in our home: a fifteen-year-old gray tabby called Minton (named after the English china company), and a one-year-old fluffy, peach-colored mischief maker named Kai.  Both were humane society rescues.  My daughter picked out Kai at the shelter when he was a kitten and also chose his name, which is apparently the Japanese word for “seashell.”   Kai sprawls on the kitchen table beside me while I type on my Netbook.  When he gets bored, he sits in front of my computer and gazes intently at me until I have to look at him, and then he mews like a baby kitty and tries to climb into my arms for a snuggle.

Meanwhile, Minton, peeved that he’s not getting attention, will sit by his food bowl on the tiled kitchen floor and meow like he hasn’t been fed in days.  Some afternoons, it’s a challenge to get my page count done.  But I can honestly say the unconditional love and fun the cats give me and my family is worth it.  There’s nothing like relaxing in front of the TV, watching a favorite show with my family, while Minton snoozes on the sofa beside me and Kai is purring in my arms.

Yes, I’m crazy about cats.  Yes, I might just end up being a “crazy cat lady,” after all.

What about you?  Are you a “cat person?”

It has been raining in the Dallas area for the last two weeks and even though I’m a Florida girl and usually addicted to sunshine, I have been enjoying it.

For me rainy days are the best for day-dreaming. I find that my creativity is unlocked and more ideas just flow into my mind when it is cloudy outside. Maybe its because I stay in and put off errands I’d normally make a top priority.

When the weather is inclement I just want to put on my favorite sweater and jeans and get comfy. And that is all conducive to dreaming and writing.

What about you? I am giving away two copies of The Moretti Heir to two different participants in this blog today. Tell me what you love/hate about rainy days!

I recently found a recipe in a new cookbook that I was desperate to try. The recipe was for Almost No-Work Whole Grain Bread. I was so eager for two reasons. First off, I have an addiction to good bread. In any form. Secondly, I harbor secret fantasies of living with Martha Stewart-esque homey simplicity. These fantasies involve waking a dawn to do yoga outside while listening to the birds chirp. Afterwards I’ll whip out my five daily pages while sipping my coffee. My pages will come quickly, leaving plenty of time to gather the multi-colored eggs my hens have laid for me overnight. After lunch I’ll take long walks in the woods and then whip up a gourmet dinner served with, of course, fresh baked bread.

Sadly, the only part of that fantasies is the fact that I like to drink coffee while I write.

So you can see why the idea of Almost No-Work Whole Grain Bread appealed to me. This seemed way easier than getting chickens. The recipe promised I could mix together a few simple ingredients, let them rest for twenty-four hours, knead for a few minutes, turn it into a loaf a pan and an hour later I’d have a fabulous loaf of bread! Never again would I have to pay $3.29 for the Artisan Bread at the local Megalow Mart. I would be free from the tyranny of their in-house bakery!

I assembled and mixed the few simple ingredients. Here’s the beauty of the recipe. No kneading is required due to the long rising time.  I let my dough rise in the warming drawer, before reshaping it into a loaf, placing it in my oiled pyrex loaf pan and setting it aside for a final rise. A hour before dinner, I popped the pan into oven. It wasn’t long before the yeast scent of fresh bread filled the air. By the time the hour passed, the children and I were standing outside the oven, salivating.

The timer dinged. I opened the oven. Huh, I thought, I assumed it would be prettier.

“Is that it?” my daughter asked, looking doubtful. I’d been espousing the wonders of fresh baked bread all afternoon. Her expectations were perhaps a mite high.

“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “It will taste much better than it looks. We’ll just let it cool for a few minutes while I ladle out the soup and then I’ll slice it up.”

After getting the soup on the table, I returned to the loaf pan. While baking, the bread had risen enough to overlap the edge of the pan. I wasn’t worried. I figured I’d give it a few gentle taps and it would pop right out. Goodness knows I’d greased it enough.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptaptaptaptaptap.

“Is it ready yet?” my daughter called from the table.

“Soon, honey.”

Taptaptaptaptaptaptap.

I pulled out a knife, broke through the brown crusty edge to run a knife along the inside of the pan. With one mighty thrust I could get the knife into the loaf. But there would be no gently running the knife along the pan. In fact it soon became obvious that I might not get the knife back, let alone the bread out.

“Can we start eating the soup?”

“Sure, honey.”

By now, my husband had come to investigate the series of thumps, curses, and thuds coming from the kitchen. Between the two of us, we finally managed to extract the bread. And though it was ugly, it didn’t taste half bad. But it was no $3.29 Artisan loaf from the local Megalow Mart.

I will say this, making the bread was almost no work. Getting it out of the pan … now that’s another thing altogether.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering that picture at the top is not the bread I made.

So tell me, have you ever made homemade bread? Do you have any Martha Stewart fantasies?

First a BIG THANK YOU to everyone who gave me such FABULOUS exercise suggestions in response to my blog this weekend.

That’s why everyone who had posted to the website this weekend wins a free book. As I indicated…I have a ton of NEW books I’ve picked up at writers conference…too many for me to ever read. So for those of you who posted this weekend–and this includes my JQ sisters who posted–please email me your genre preference- contemporary, historical, romantic suspense, women’s fiction and I’ll email you some available titles/authors and you can pick!

You should know my email by now– cindykirk @ aol . com with no spaces.

Thanks again!

The weirdest thing has come over me lately. I’ve been cooking! And shopping!

Now, I will be honest here and tell you that I am not the most domestic person in the world. I do have a nice house and pretty good taste in furniture and decor, but housework was never my forte. My husband is a far better housekeeper than I am, and actually used to be an obsessive house-cleaner. But with three kids and all our pets, he’s learned to loosen up a little. And now that we have only one kid living with us (and he’s 24 years old!) things stay pretty tidy.

I might not be into housework, but cooking was always sort of a hobby of mine. I don’t generally do anything really fancy – but on Saturday, I made homemade soup and rolls for dinner. Sunday, I put a turkey in the oven (after making a batch of chocolate chip cookies!) and made stuffing, mashed potatoes and green beans. Not exactly exotic, but lots of work. Whew. What’s gotten into me?

Maybe a couple of things. I’m waiting to hear on a proposal I’ve sent to my agent, and I don’t want to start writing until I get the ok. So I’m a little antsy. Feeling free, which is nice for a change, but doing a lot of thinking about my next writing project and pretty much ready to dive into it.

Also, it’s gotten chilly here in Michigan, which is typical for October. In fact, it’s always cold and rainy here on my birthday, which was last Tuesday, and the change in weather seems to trigger my nesting instincts. I want to cook and bake and get ready for the cold weather. (Do we have enough down quilts for all the beds? Are the storm windows sealed? Is the furnace ready to kick in? Should I buy scented candles so that the closed-up house smells good?)

Once the house is ”battened down,” I might sit down in a cozy chair by the fireplace (across from the HUGE radiator in my living room) and choose something delicious from my stack of unread books. Let it rain or snow, I won’t care. I’ll be reading some fascinating book on an aspect of history that interests me, or maybe I’ll be transported to some wonderful fictional world by one of my favorite authors. “Bad” weather would only make it nicer. Cozier.

If the weather is crisp and clear, I’ll more likely be out and about. In my neighborhood, we’ll soon be raking up leaves and having fall campfires. There’ll be a hayride in the park, and we’ve got an outdoor Oktoberfest coming up. My husband and I will take our dogs and go hiking in the woods. So I’m not really “nesting,” but getting ready for the cold season.

I’d love to know what all of you do at this time of year. Do you do anything special in the fall? Are you starting to think about the holidays - Thanksgiving, at least?

While you’re thinking about that … maybe you’ll check out the interview I filmed at BordersTrueRomance last week. It should be up on the website in the next couple of days (if not today). I’m giving details about my October release, Taken by the Laird – the perfect antidote to a chilly fall day.

Drum roll… Keena Kincaid is the winner of A Cowboy Christmas. Congrats! Send me your mailing address to janetteATjankenny.com and I’ll get your book in the mail.

Thanks to all who commented.