Can you imagine how justifiably offended and outraged readers would be if I wrote a book and called it “Real Women Don’t Wear Size 14”? I doubt I could convince anyone to publish something so inflammatory, even if it were a terrific read. Everyone would note how off-putting the title was, and how millions of size 14 and larger women would probably boycott the book on principle. Why, then, is it okay to call a book Real Women Don’t Wear Size 2? I picked this book up because (you guessed it) I fall into the category of fake women. I’m 36-years-old, have four children, and the last time I checked, still had two X chromosomes. I’ve always checked the “F” box when filling out paperwork. But apparently the size of my jeans reveals the shocking truth: I am not a “real” woman. So admittedly, I started this book with a bit of an attitude, more than a little afraid that it would feature a lovely, warm, and genuine not-size-2 heroine facing off with a bunch of skinny psychopaths. The book wasn’t like that at all, which perhaps suggests that the title was generated in the marketing department. However, it had different problems that made it mostly an average read for me.

Clarise Robinson is a top-performing department head in a large southern department store, Eubanks Elegant Apparel. Clarise has curves to spare, and she specializes in helping larger size women dress with style and confidence. But sometimes she finds it hard to practice what she preaches. She has long had a crush on Ethan Eubanks, who is both her boss and her standing Friday lunch date. They’ve become good friends, but Clarise would like their relationship to be much more. Gaining the confidence to do something about it is easier said than done. Even if Ethan weren’t her boss, Clarise has limited experience with men, and she’s very self-conscious about her generously curvy body.

Clarise decides that she will finally let her hair down at the annual retreat for department heads in Tampa. It takes place during the Gasparilla Festival, when “pirates” roam the streets of Tampa, and women bare their goods to get beads in Mardi Gras style parades. Clarise borrows a DVD that demonstrates stripping techniques, and makes a sex “to do” list that includes sex on the beach, sex under the bleachers, and all the other wild things she’s always heard about. Mustering her courage, she heads to a funky store that sells casual, sexy clothes, and assisted by some very helpful size 2 saleswomen, buys some eye-catching outfits. Just when Clarise decides that she’s finally going to get her chance with Ethan, he tells her he’s not going. It’s too late for her to back out, so Clarise arrives in Tampa and resolves to party like crazy. The fun starts at her first parade, when Clarise orders a big drink with a lot of alcohol. Just when she’s about to show her stuff to an eager crowd, Ethan arrives after all, and he escorts her back to the hotel.

When Clarise wakes up the next morning with a hell of a hangover and her sexy boss in her bed, she is pretty embarrassed. But Ethan assuages her fears and convinces her to try everything on her sexy to-do list with him. They agree that commitment is not on the list, even though they both already like each other and want more than sex. The bulk of the book passes with Clarise and Ethan going at it like crazy, checking off the to-do boxes one by one and having a wonderful time. But can it all last? Does Ethan really like Clarise’s curvy body? Will Clarise find out what Ethan did at last year’s retreat? Can this “real woman” find true love with her best friend/boss?

I really liked the basic premise of this book. Though I found the title offensive, the reason I read it in the first place is that I enjoy reading about women of all shapes and sizes, and I found Clarise to be a fun heroine much of the time. I loved the way she was taught by her (very shapely) grandmother to call her breasts “the Robinson treasures.” It cracked me up nearly every time. I also liked her occupation. Though lots of women work retail (or have done so in the past), you don’t really see many heroines in that line of work. Perhaps it’s just not glamorous enough. I know from personal experience that some people assume that retail workers are either uneducated or poor (or both), so that may be part of it. Certainly it lacks the cache of, say, a female private investigator or FBI profiler. But sometimes it’s really nice to hear about someone whose job is to help people to look attractive. I think most women would also relate to Clarise’s insecurity about her body; most women feel insecure about their appearance at times, no matter what size they are.

Ethan is also a nice enough guy, if a little bland at times. His main role seems to be hot-and-sexy-guy-who-finds-the-heroine-really-attractive, and there’s not a whole lot more to him than that. He’s not a jerk, though, which is more than you can say for some heroes. A better success is the Tampa setting, which is fun, unusual, and sexy. Fans of steamy sex scenes will also enjoy the ones here, though some were a bit purple for my taste.

My problems with the book mostly stem from the writing style itself – not the plot or the characters. Generally, I don’t have a problem with mental lusting. I often think it’s pretty sexy when characters are thinking about sex. But this book took it way over the top. Virtually the whole first half of the book passes before Clarise and Ethan have sex. And during most of that time, they are both thinking about it. And thinking about it. It felt like the author really wanted to drive the point home that Ethan found Clarise’s Robinson treasures and everything else very sexy. Fair enough, but hearing about it on every other page is overkill.

Then it seemed like every scene had to be lived through about three times. First Ethan would be thinking about how hot Clarise was (again). The Clarise would think about how hot Ethan was. Then the actual scene would take place, and they’d have sex. Then Clarise and Ethan would both think about how hot it was afterwards, reliving every sexy moment. This happened again and again, to the point that the pacing of the book was affected.

In the end it was about a wash for me, though the problems were not what I expected at all. Though the pacing didn’t work for me, nothing in the writing revealed any sort of disdain for thin women. I suspect that Warner may have been capitalizing on the general disgruntlement women tend to feel when we look at airbrushed media images of how we are all supposed to look. I admit that the title would have worked a little better for me if it had been “Real Women are Seldom Size 2 with D-Cup Boobs.” That said, some general acknowledgment that real women come in all shapes and sizes is definitely in order. Real women do wear size 2. And size 22, and 0, and 14, and everything else.