Jacqueline Rhoades & THE ALPHA'S DAUGHTER

Jacqueline Rhoades

 Guest Post

You are beautiful. That's one of the messages I want to send with my stories. That message isn't to my heroine, but to you, my reader. You're beautiful.

I try to say that in my novels. Most of the heroines of my novels see themselves as what one reviewer aptly wrote of as, 'plain Janes'. That's the way most of us see ourselves. We don't see ourselves as ugly, but we don't see ourselves as beautiful. At best, we're "all right, I guess". We see thick waists and too-wide hips, breasts that are too small or too large, legs too long or too short. We're too fat. We're too thin. We may see beauty in others, but we don't appreciate it in ourselves.

In The Alpha's Daughter, I reverse this a bit. It's Griz who thinks his looks will disappoint. They don't! By the time Jazz sees his face, she already knows what he 'looks' like. He's a man of strong character, a man of loyalty and kindness and caring, a man of principle and integrity and his face reflects it. He is beautiful. Most of my readers see that in him, too.

So why is that? Why do we hold one standard for our heroes and another for our heroines? We talk about a man's rugged good looks (i.e. not classically handsome). That scar over his eye or down his cheek? We find it intriguing. Those ears that are a little too big? We find them endearing. A sense of humor? That one's a deal breaker for me. If he can't laugh, (or make me laugh) I don't care how good looking he is, he can park his shoes under someone else's bed. Or how about hands? For me, a good strong set of work calloused hands sandpapering their way across my softer and more delicate bits… Mmm. (I'm blushing profusely here.) Studies show that I'm not alone. For most women, good looks isn't number one on the list of male attractiveness.

Why is it that what we see in the men around us, we deny ourselves? How many of us look in that mirror and see a smile that lights up a room, eyes that sparkle with laughter, hands that are comforting and tender? We begin our mirror inspection with how many pounds we need to lose. We end it with how big our hips are or the crow's feet that are becoming permanent. We don't even have the courage to say (with a fist pump in the air) "But the old boobs still have something going on. Yes!"

Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. It's trite, but true and I try to emphasize that in my stories. True beauty is much more subtle than big breasts, tiny waists, and high, firm asses. It's found in a smile, in the sound of someone's laughter, in the way someone looks at you when you speak. It's in the way someone loves not just their lovers, but the people around them.

One of my favorite women in my books is Annie from Preston's Mill. Annie is old. Her face is weathered and lined. Over the years her breasts and waist and hips have solidified into one straight line. She's tough, no nonsense, and doesn't mince words, but she opens her doors and heart to anyone she thinks needs it whether they think so or not! Ask anyone in Preston's Mill. Annie is beautiful.

My heroines all have different body types; tall, short, round, narrow, curvy and slight. They come from different backgrounds and have different hopes and dreams and every one of them is beautiful. I want my readers to see a bit of themselves (or women they know) in them and I want them to see these women through the eyes of their lovers.

They are beautiful and the beauty in them is the beauty in you.


   
Book Name: The Alpha's Daughter

Author's Name: Jacqueline Rhoades

Category: F/M

Main Characters: Jazz & Doc

Series: The Wolvers #3

Release Date:  07/01/13

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BLURB: There is a balm in Gilead, to heal the wounded soul…
Jazz Phillips is on the run, fleeing from a fate most females in her pack accept as their lot in life; an arranged mating, something Jazz thought wasn’t in her future as the Alpha’s daughter and only child. She doesn’t want to be the next Alpha’s Mate. She doesn’t want to be anyone’s mate. She likes her life just the way it is until she finds herself stranded in the Ozark mountain town of Gilead, home to a small and close knit pack of wolvers. Once there, she begins to question her life as it was and begins to wonder what it could be, especially in the arms of the wolver the people call Doc.

Doc Goodman claims to have settled in Gilead because he saw a need for his services, but in fact, he’s a runaway, too. He’s rejected his wolver heritage and the warring politics that stripped him of everything he thought he wanted. He’s biding his time, waiting to die, until he meets the blue haired, foul mouthed beauty who shows him there are still things worth living for and the most important of them are worth fighting for.

Reviewed by Wendy
Rating: 4.5
When you're the daughter of a mean controlling alpha who has never loved you and always made a point to let you know he wanted a son, what do you do? You stand up for yourself (or try to) and that's what Jazz did, only to be beaten by her father's men, at his order. To save herself from being married off to a stranger, Jazz runs away but only finds herself in a little trouble at the roadside bar she stopped at. Thinking she can handle the fight, Jazz gets pissed when Doc steps in to save her. Little does Jazz know the man that saved her is the man she was supposed to meet to help her on her journey.  Jazz ran away but she had help getting there from a stranger that came to talk to her father about potential mates for her. Like Jazz, Doc is a wolver, which is like a werewolf.  Doc & Jazz could not be more opposite of each other, Jazz is a party girl and Doc is a strong willed silent type who likes to keep to himself when he is not working. During the aftermath of the fight Jazz discovers her motorcycle and belongings have been stolen. She has no choice but to go home with Doc until she figure out a way to keep going. Jazz and Doc don't see eye to eye on anything and that's what makes this story a good read with lots of drama, love and humor.
This is book #3, I plan on going back and reading the first two as soon as I can.

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