Valerie

Let’s explore romance stereotypes. Meet Valerie. She is the Stereotypical Older Woman™—except the universe apparently forgot to install the “getting older” feature. Valerie is a werewolf omega somewhere between 45 and 60, depending on which version of her birth certificate you believe. She has absolutely no interest in revealing the exact number. Not because she’s embarrassed. Oh, no. She simply enjoys watching people guess wildly wrong. Because Valerie looks about twenty years younger. Her skin? Flawless. 
Her hair? Gorgeous. 
Her energy? Completely unreasonable. 
Her joints? Apparently forged from enchanted titanium. She wakes up without back pain, climbs stairs without making suspicious noises, and can spend an entire day running around without needing a three-hour nap afterward. According to werewolf romance logic, this is perfectly normal. Apparently, being an omega werewolf means aging is merely a suggestion. Valerie is also the kind of woman who has absolutely no patience for anyone treating her like she’s “old.” Call her ma’am and prepare yourself for the lecture of your lifetime. She has decades of life experience, enough wisdom to see through romantic nonsense immediately, and absolutely zero desire to become somebody’s helpless little damsel. Of course, this is a romance story. So naturally, fate has decided that Valerie needs a mate. Because apparently surviving adulthood, raising a family, building a career, and reaching middle age with your sanity intact wasn’t enough character development. Now she gets to deal with fated mates, possessive werewolves, dramatic pheromones, pack politics, and a romance trope she thought she was far too old to tolerate. Valerie’s response? “I’m not old.” The universe: “We know.” “Good.” The universe: “You’re still getting the romance plot.” “…I hate this place.”