Gabriel is driving back to his cabin in the Colorado mountains at the start of a blizzard. An oncoming car nearly hits him and swerves into the guardrail. It turns out the driver is Laura, a very beautiful, very pregnant woman who is running from something. She goes to his cabin and discovers he is Gabriel Bradley, the famous and wealthy artist. He, of course, wants to paint her portrait, and she agrees as a way to thank him for his hospitality. The pregnancy complicates their romance, and as they find out more about each other they begin to have feelings for one another... and then the baby is born.
That is when Laura and Gabe's relationship should have joined the ranks of countless sleep-deprived parents before them -- code red, just survive another day and hope that in a few years things settle down enough that we can have a conversation that is more than a few sentences and we can have a meal where we both eat warm food at the same time. But instead this is where the book comes so unrealistic that I could hardly read it.
To start, Laura loses all of her baby weight and is back to being thin in just two months (yes, the book actually makes a point of saying that). There isn't much to do in Gabriel's giant mansion, despite Laura's refusal to get any help. She has a newborn baby and a giant house and no one to help her clean it, and did I mention she painted the baby's room herself? And still she has nothing to do. Most people don't even get a shower or brush their hair or, I don't know, eat, after having a baby because they are just that busy. But not Laura. She just can't seem to find anything to do except fantasize about Gabe and wonder how he feels about her.
The thing is, the baby is a plot device meant to create a situation that binds Laura to Gabe, making their motive for staying together confused and dramatic and romantic. But real babies are not romantic, they are exhausting. This baby cries at inopportune times, but only if he is interrupting a love scene. He stays awake all night (once), but only because Laura and Gabe needed a "real parenthood" moment that would give them time to bond over their new roles. Nora Roberts couldn't find any romance in real parenthood, so she had to invent a magical world of parenting where staying up for an all nighter results in a few laughs about how "this is parenthood and we'll remember it fondly when he's grown." Only people who don't have children or who had children so long ago that they've forgotten what they are like say things like that.
I will rewrite a day in the life of Laura and Gabe. 5:30 a.m. The baby cries alone in his crib for 30 minutes before Laura and Gabe stumble out of bed arguing over who will get him and change his poopy diaper. "I did it last time!" Gabe whines. "I pushed him out of my body with no medication!" Laura counters. She wins. Neither of them shower. No time for that. She goes downstairs to pour a giant mug of coffee, but her exhaustion has made her clumsy. She spills hot coffee on her blouse, curses because they have an important meeting to attend, and when she puts the pot down to clean the stain, it falls off the edge of the counter shattering and showering her brand new shoes with coffee. She cleans up and changes into another outfit (no time for breakfast now), grabs the baby, who promptly spits up on her. Since she had no time to do laundry this week and has already changed her outfit once, she'll have to wear the spit up blouse and cover it with a ratty old scarf that happens to be hanging in the closet. She dries the spit up off the baby's face with the coffee stained shirt, briefly wondering if inhaling caffeine is bad for him. Then she wrestles the baby into the five-point safety harnessed baby carrier, and Gabe is finally ready. He had to change his outfit too because the baby kicked his heals into poop mid-diaper change, flinging it all over the newly painted walls and Gabe's arms. They load the baby into the car, and then the baby poops again. "Guess he wasn't done," Gabe says irritably. They get out of the car, change the baby again, but this time his diaper leaked so his outfit needs to be changed. Finally they are all in the car again and on their way. Too bad they forgot the diaper bag. Back to the house. Ten minutes of packing -- diapers, wipes, extra pacifiers, favorite blankie -- then back out again. They thought they might have a few minutes to talk in the car, but the baby is wailing in the back seat because he's been strapped in for half an hour already. Their ear drums are shattering along with the few shards of sanity they had left. They arrive at their meeting 25 minutes late. They scramble out of the car, head to the office, then realize they locked their kid and their keys in the car. It is only 8 a.m.
Find some romance in that, Nora Roberts.