I really have always loved this cover for The Reluctant Prince. It’s sexy, evocative, yet it’s not the usual chests-boobs-ass that usually appears on many romance novel covers.

(Not that I’m dissing the chest-boobs-ass covers, far from it. I like those too, and even have a few.)

It’s one of those covers that’s not as provocative as other covers, yet, you know exactly what’s going on between the owners of those two sets of feet…

But as I look at it, especially when I glance at the male feet, I have to take pause for a moment, because, well, those feet look kinda small.

But small feet aren’t all bad. I know, I have small feet.

They’re not freakishly small like my mother’s (size 5) but the older I get, the more I realize, I really do have small feet.


My mom, (freakish size 5 feet), used to tease me about the “huge water skis” I had on my feet–now, I’m just a size 7-8 (depending on the shoe). As a result, I had a bit of a complex, thinking my feet really were just huge, because I mean, I could wear my mom’s shoes in middle school, but in high school, my feet were too big.

So here I was, growing up, thinking that I had huge feet, because they were a 7 because I came from a family of people with small feet. Even my dad only wears a size 8 in men’s shoes. That’s small. Like weirdly small, I’m learning.

It wasn’t until I was in my thirties that I began to realize that size 7 really isn’t that big, and that many of my friends were 8, or 9, or even 10! Now I will qualify that, I am one of the shortest members of my circle of friends, but even then, the ones who are a little shorter than me, have bigger feet than me.

But what’s entertaining about this–my mother had ALWAYS teased me about my big feet at least through my twenties.

When my brother went to college it kind of stopped. I didn’t know why, until my mom finally told me this amusing little snippet.

My brother had come home from college, with two of his friends and there, on the floor was a pair of golf shoes.

My brother picks them up and shows them to his friends. “Look at my mommy’s little baby golf shoes…”

The boys all laugh.

My mother witnesses this and grabs the shoe from my brother. “Those are your father’s shoes!” Because they really were Dad’s golf shoes.

Which only makes the laughter get louder.

My brother is the only one that escaped freakish small feet syndrome, with his size 11 feet. And still, for a man, that’s not exactly huge.

So we have small feet.

Maybe I do have a little foot thing…

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