"She was the most beautiful woman in the world, and she hated every inch of herself."
That line hit me somewhere around hour two, while I was folding laundry and pretending I couldn't hear Lucas asking for his fourteenth snack. And honestly? It stopped me mid-sock-match. Because Susan Elizabeth Phillips just... gets it. The way women are told they're beautiful while simultaneously being taught to catalog every flaw. Fleur Savagar is six feet tall with hands she describes as "paddles" and this bone-deep belief that she's somehow wrong. Meanwhile, the world is literally putting her on magazine covers.
I wasn't expecting this book to punch me in the feelings quite so hard.
When Your Mother Is The Real Villain
Look, I've read my share of romance novels with difficult parents. But Belinda Savagar might be the most terrifying mother I've encountered in fiction—and she never raises a hand. She's beautiful, manipulative, and treats her daughter like a prop in her own personal drama. The way Julia Gibson voices her—all breathy charm with this undercurrent of steel—made my skin crawl. In the best way.
The first half of this book is essentially Fleur's origin story, and it's darker than I expected from a romance. We're talking exploitation, betrayal by the people who should protect her, and a young woman who has to burn her entire life down to figure out who she actually is. Phillips published this in the eighties originally, and it reads like she was writing about the modeling industry and Hollywood before anyone was ready to hear it.
Jake Koranda: The Grumpy Hero I Didn't Know I Needed
Okay, so Jake is a playwright-turned-movie-star who basically hates everyone, especially gorgeous models who remind him of everything shallow about Hollywood. He's prickly and difficult and—here's the thing—he has actual reasons for being that way. Gibson gives him this gravelly edge that's distinct from everyone else in the book. When he and Fleur finally stop circling each other and actually connect, it feels earned.
This is a slow burn, friends. Like, glacially slow by today's standards. They don't even properly get together until well past the halfway point. But I didn't mind? The buildup works because both characters have so much baggage to unpack first.
About That Music Though
I need to address the elephant in the audiobook. Someone decided to insert these little musical interludes—maybe twenty seconds each—throughout the narration. And... why? They pop up at transitions and completely yanked me out of the story every single time. I'm driving the kids to school, fully invested in Fleur's modeling career imploding, and suddenly there's this dramatic score like I'm watching a soap opera. It didn't add anything. It just confused Sophie, who kept asking "what's that noise, Mama?"
Julia Gibson herself is lovely. Her delivery is smooth, she nails the shallow society characters with just the right amount of snark, and by the end I was completely sold on her interpretation. But those first few chapters, I wasn't sure. She grew on me—which is apparently a common experience based on what other listeners have said. Give her time.
The Epilogue That Keeps Going
Fair warning: when you hear "Epilogue," you're not actually near the end. There's a whole additional chunk of story that wraps up loose ends and gives you the satisfying conclusion you're craving. I appreciated it, even if it made my "finish during nap time" plan completely fall apart. This is a 14-hour commitment. Not a quick beach read. But it survived being paused approximately 847 times across a week and a half, and I never lost the thread.
The romance is swoony when it finally arrives. The character development is genuinely impressive. That same depth of character work is what made Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm stick with me—watching a young woman figure out who she is despite everyone else's expectations. And there's this thread about mothers and daughters—about what we inherit and what we choose—that stuck with me long after the last chapter.
Who's Going To Love This (And Who Should Maybe Skip)
If you want instant gratification and a meet-cute in chapter one, this isn't your book. Same goes if you're looking for something light and breezy. But if you want a meaty story about a woman figuring out her own worth despite everyone around her trying to define it for her? If you want a romance that feels like it matters because you've watched both characters earn their happiness? This one's worth the time investment.
Minivan Verdict: Worth the Fourteen Hours
I'm giving this a solid recommendation with the caveat that you need to be in the mood for something substantial. The music insertions are annoying but not dealbreaking. Gibson's narration is excellent once you settle in. And Susan Elizabeth Phillips proves why she's got that Lifetime Achievement Award—the woman knows how to write complicated women and the men who eventually deserve them.
Just maybe don't start it right before school pickup. You'll want to keep listening, and explaining to Emma why Mommy is crying in the parking lot again is getting old.
