18++ Lena Shapiro. Successful surgeon. Dutiful daughter. She sacrificed her personal life to build her career and take care of her mother and sister. Now thirty-nine and single, she watches her peers pairing off and having kids, and wonders if she missed out on her own chance at happiness.
Lena Shapiro. Successful surgeon. Dutiful daughter. She sacrificed her personal life to build her career and take care of her mother and sister. Now thirty-nine and single, she watches her peers pairing off and having kids, and wonders if she missed out on her own chance at happiness.
Assigned to mentor a visiting colleague, Lena finds herself falling for the man instead. But Adam Sterling is all wrong for her: he’s too young, too arrogant, and too willing to push personal and professional boundaries. And he’s leaving L.A. for a job on the opposite coast.
With the date of Adam’s departure looming ever nearer, will Lena retreat to the safety of her familiar solitary life, or will she take a chance on an uncertain future with the man who might make her dreams come true?
(Please note: This is a steamy contemporary romance that contains mature themes and explicit content, meant for adults 18 and over. It is a stand-alone novel, with no cliff-hangers, and a guaranteed HEA.)
Why I hate the princess myth
When my daughter was three, she was very much into Disney princesses. She had all the paraphernalia, purchased for her—against my wishes—by every relative and friend who saw nothing wrong with pink. DD had the dolls. The books. The DVDs. (Yes, this was before Netflix.) She even had a princess dress, complete with accessories, purchased for her by a well-meaning aunt. (“But she needs a costume for Halloween!”) For months, that dress was the bane of my existence. DD insisted on wearing the stupid thing long after Halloween was over. Every. Single. Day.
So it’s Saturday, and DD’s in her princess outfit with the sparkly shoes and necklace and ring. No tiara, thank goodness—I managed to lose that sucker some weeks back, and because it wasn’t really part of the Disney princess ensemble, she wasn’t too upset.
Suddenly she starts crying.
“What's wrong?” I ask.
DD wails: “Where's my prince?”
Okaaaay. So I figure: perfect teaching moment, right?
“You know,” I tell her, “today's princesses don't need a prince. Today princesses can do everything a prince can do, including rescuing themselves.”
But she keeps crying. “Where. Is. My. Prince?”
Finally, frustrated, I succumb. “You have two brothers and a father. Pick one.”
She quiets down and looks around. The only other person in the room besides DD and me is Primo, my firstborn, who is nine years old. He’s practicing the piano, already in his karate gi, since in a few minutes I’m taking all three kids to karate class.
“Primo's my prince,” DD decides.
“Fine,” I agree. “He’ll be your prince after he finishes playing piano.”
Two more meltdowns follow. One because delayed gratification is an unheard-of concept for a three-year-old. She wants Primo to be her prince NOW. The crying is so loud and disruptive that Primo finally had to abandon the piano to play prince.
The second meltdown is because DD doesn’t want to take off the costume and put on her gi. Finally Primo manages to convince her that even princesses don't wear sparkly dresses and shoes when they’re doing karate.
I’m sure I’m not the only mom fed up with the passive princess stereotype. Disney must have done some market research, because eventually they started coming out with princesses who were strong and brave and didn’t need some mythical prince to rescue them. (Two thumbs up for Merida!)
My daughter has since outgrown her princess costume. She’s working on her second degree blue belt, and she doesn’t wait for her brothers to rescue her. Best of all, she thinks a stethoscope is a much cooler accessory than a tiara.
You may be asking yourself: if I hate the princess myth so much, what am doing writing romance novels? Isn’t that all about perpetuating the stupid fairy tale?
In a word: No. My heroines are independent, successful, kick-ass women who don’t sit around waiting for anyone. If and when they do fall in love, it’s not with some mythical prince. It’s with a guy who’s their equal. A friend, lover, partner. And when they ride off into the sunset together in their very sensible hybrid car, chances are it’s the heroine who will be at the wheel.
on sale for $0.99 during the tourAbout the author:
A native of Philadelphia, Jill Blake now lives in southern California with her husband and three children. During the day, she works as a physician in a busy medical practice. At night, once the charts are all done and the kids are asleep, Jill writes steamy romances with smart heroines, sexy heroes, and guaranteed happy endings.
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