Swept Off Her Stilettos
Somewhere out there are readers who will love this book. It’s sweet, the heroine didn’t get enough love as a small child, she hides her true self under a faux sex-kitten persona, and her hunky best friend turns out to be — and this is just a shock to our girl — madly in love with the real her. I, however, am not such a reader. I found Swept off her Stilettos to be prosaic, predictable, and passionless.
Coreen Fraser had a bad mom who loved poorly. Coreen is determined to never make that same mistake and thus only likes men who are mad for her and whom she can keep at an emotional and physical distance. Coreen works hard to get these guys. She’s perfected her sexy sway, and always wears red high heels, tons of make-up, and skintight sexy vintage clothes. The book is written in first person which, for me, was a problem, because I found Coreen a self-absorbed ninny. She natters on and on about how alluring she is and how important it is that she is so alluring. She’s that person who really would say to someone she’s just met and chattered to: “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you. What do you think about me?”
Coreen’s best friend — and this friendship seemed as likely as Pope pushing premarital sex — is a successful, super cute straight guy named Adam Conrad. Adam has been Coreen’s bestest bud for years. The two have inside jokes, pal around, eat ethnic food, and never once does Coreen wonder if Adam might want to get into her pencil skirts.
However, when Coreen decides to make a serious play for wealthy Sloan ranger Nicholas Chatterton–Jones, Adam makes his move. He kisses her while the two are away at a murder mystery weekend and tells her she must choose between losing him or loving him.
There’s really nothing in the book I find worth sharing. It’s not awful; it’s just banal. Ms. Harper has an excellent grasp of the English language but not of the mysteries of the human heart. No one in this book is real or engaging and what little plot there is is pedestrian. It’s lighter than air, completely inoffensive, and imminently forgettable.
I’m sure there are those who like their romances completely sweet and substance free. Not me. I need heart and a bit of heft in my novels and there’s none to be found in Swept off her Stilettos.