Liz Fairchild is through with relationships. Widowed in her twenties, now divorced halfway through her forties, it's time to live life for herself. No man need apply. With the proceeds from her divorce settlement and business advice from an unexpected source, she opens an art gallery in Northwest Portland, trades her McMansion on the Columbia River for an apartment above her gallery, and looks forward to her new, independent life. Then Collins, a sculptor who claims to have only one name, walks into her gallery. He's tall, rugged, and way younger than she is. He says he's looking for a gallery to represent him in Portland and, unwilling to take no for an answer to anything, bulldozes his way into her life and her bed.
How do you feel?