Being a girly girl of sorts, I was a little caught off guard to end up as a mother of sons exclusively. Well not surprised, per se, since my husband comes from a family of seven boys and one girl. I kinda expected the Y chromosomes would be plentiful. But my education in sports and cars was sketchy, having spent my childhood orchestrating extremely well attended tea parties (my stuffed animal collection rivaled the best on the block) and testing out exotic nail polish colors on Barbie’s barely existent toes.

So I’m intrigued to watch these boys of mine grow up. Their world and their experiences are so much different than mine. Take sports for example. Their father is a bit sports-obsessed, but all the boys have great interest in any arena that requires athleticism and skill, so their dad isn’t exactly leading them anywhere they don’t want to go. From broom ball to stick ball, hockey to hoop, these kids have played every game imaginable, making up their own from rudimentary materials at hand when they lack the proper court and equipment. Trust me, not five minutes passes in my house in which one of them doesn’t challenge another in some sporty test of skill. Whether it’s seeing who can be first to the dinner table or who can stick the landing on a handcrafted backyard mogul, my boys are extremely competitive.

You might ask what this has to do with the making of a Blaze hero. Well, I’ve decided I must be somehow engaged in the process as I raise three strong, smack-talking competitors with relentless drive to be the best. I mean, I added in some manners wherever I could—they’d better hold those doors open me or face dire consequences—and I’ve nourished and encouraged their innate intelligence wherever possible. But all the rest of who they are seems to come from pre-scripted he-man DNA that has nothing to do with me. Other than the fact that my husband famously claims to have married me for my ability to palm a basketball (something I didn’t know I could do until he placed one in my hand), I don’t think I had much to do with the development of these soon-to-be men.

Still, I’ve got to smile. Between the muscles they’re dead set on building and the quick wits they’re forced to develop from the non-stop verbal sparring, I can’t help but see signs of heroes in the making.

***So I’ve got to ask the moms… do you feel like you’ve influenced your kids to a great extent? Or are you continually amazed at what uniquely different personalities you encounter in them?? Hop on the boards to tell me what you think and I’ll be glad to share a copy of SHE THINKS HER EX IS SEXY with a random poster. ***

Helloooo, Mr. Advertiser Man? Yeah, you in the suit pitching your next bright idea for a TV commercial–the one that includes a woman lounging by a swimming pool and up walks some guy you think is our idea of the perfect romance hero? Yeah, that one. Before you go too far with that, I’d like to show you something. If you’ll just come with me, it will only take a second. It’s this way, down the hall and around the corner. Yeah, here it is. It’s the 21st century.

Huh? No, it’s not new. We’ve all been here for about a decade now. Yeah. And you’ll see a few things have changed. Namely, that guy you’re assuming is our romance hero? He looks nothing like this:

Nope, I’m sure. If you were to stroll through the romance aisle in the book store or–here’s an idea–actually talk to a woman who reads romance? You’d discover this guy was fashionable about….oh….thirty years ago.

Yeah, really. Equating him to our fantasy man is about as appropriate as casting these guys as dreamy rock stars:

Yep. That was the 80′s. It’s 2009 now. Why don’t you join us?

If it’s a romance hero you’re looking for, may I suggest someone like this?

I literally stared at this picture for 4 months while writing my latest Blaze. He was the inspiration for my hero. It’s Jon Hamm, but I called him Marc Strauss. Nope, not Damien or Sebastian or Jaque-Phillipe. Just Marc with a “c”. And believe it or not, you’ll find guys like this on lots and lots of romance novel covers. We love men in suits, clean cut guys with jobs and maybe a really nice car. Yeah, traveling by schooner is kinda out these days.

Bare-chested heroes riding in on white horses, you ask? Sure, we love horses and love men riding in on them, and no, shirts aren’t required. But today they’d look a little more like this:

Firemen are also pretty hot. We’ve been lusting over them for about 10 years now. Yep. What’s that? No, I’ve got no idea where you’ve been. It’s actually kinda old news, really.

You could do a Top Gun military man too. We’d prefer one of those Navy Seals that actually captures the pirates instead of the pirate himself.

Heck, we’re easy. You can even do a Speedo as long as he looks like this:

Just stop with the billowing white blouses buttoned down to the navel. Even women don’t wear those anymore. And if a man’s going to unbutton his shirt that far, we’d just as soon he take it off. Oh, and if anyone in the room utters the word “mullet” please fire them on the spot and send them to the nearest Motley Cruefest. They seriously shouldn’t be in the business of selling anything to women–or grown-up men, for that matter.

So, ladies, while we have Mr. Advertiser Man’s attention, is there anything else you’d like to add to this public service announcement? Better heroes you’d like to see in their ads instead of the Fabio-cut-outs they’re still throwing at us? Husbands who aren’t complete imbeciles jumping up and down in front of the Glade air freshener trying to get it to spritz?

What type of hero would get you to drop the remote, run to the store and buy the product he’s selling?