“What was it about the words 'alone' and 'with me' that set her heart rocketing into her chest wall?”

Let us argue, purely hypothetically, that your debut Mills & Boon attempt is nearing completion. You have created a compelling heroine, who, in all likelihood, has unresolved issues with her father, money troubles and frizzy hair on especially hot days, and you have matched her with an emotionally-distant, arrogant billionaire whose resolute independence has finally been challenged by the attractive twenty-something marine biologist he has hired to be his live-in housekeeper and blackmailed mistress. Naturally, he never intended to fall in love, but he has been intrigued by how her feistiness and outward loathing could be overcome with weekly cheques and why she insists on wearing hats whenever it is sunny. With a lifetime of wedded bliss and endless baby-making one conversation away your hero manages to overturn the metaphorical apple cart with a display of masculine ego, stupidity, or an unlucky misquote, sure to infuriate both your heroine and your readers.

There remains the toughest scene to render, the showdown and apology, where the man confesses to having been a moron, bastard, pimp, or unfortunately loud when speaking privately, and must come to his sweetheart's window, car, private jet, nightclub bathroom and win her back with a heartfelt plea. The course of true love never runs smoothly, as fans of romance fiction know from reading romance fiction. However, as story-telling requires a dramatic impetus against the pastoral idealisation of pure, overwhelming happiness Secrets Uncovered saw fit to visit RIVA novelist Lucy King for a Grovelling Section in their Conflict Chapter. You, lucky reader, shall now learn of every ingredient needed for this must-have sequence, including the most important one of how to engineer an intelligent, arrogant billionaire into doing something so utterly appalling his only option is to apologise. ‘Ah, who doesn’t love a good grovel? The moment the hero realizes he’s been a fool, tracks the heroine down and begs for forgiveness. An alpha male brought to his knees by love?'

Right on, Lucy King. No one doesn't love a good grovel and no story would be romantic without one. Tell us, how on earth do we create such a scene in the first place? 'Screw up really badly. The worse the screw up, the better the grovel. Let his emotional baggage blind him.' Before aspiring authors become too excited at the myriad of dastardly possibilities open to their hero they should bear in mind that he can do nothing so drastic it cannot be solved with a smouldering sorry and some eye contact. Most often in the assorted Mills & Boon's we have studied this momentary breakdown in relations between hero and heroine is generated by a misunderstanding causing old tensions to flare up. Jealousy, pride or being treated as a prostitute are exacerbated by confusion or seeing her walking with another man, moving her belongings into his mansion without asking, or him continuing to treat her as a prostitute even after they have agreed to fall in love.

What's next? 'Leave. Or make the heroine leave.' Let them save themselves from love. After all, there are plenty more marine biologists in the sea. 'But hang on a moment. Reluctantly force him to re-assess the values he has held all his life, analyse some of the irritatingly valid points the heroine may have made during their last encounter and make him examine his feelings (shudder).' This is called character growth. Every character, besides the protagonist, needs to learn and become more-rounded and decent in order to earn the happy ending they are going to receive no matter what. While our hero continues to tremble violently in brackets, let us ponder how we should go about putting this reinvention of philosophy and long-term objectives into the sentences necessary to achieve the desired finished word count. Lucy King explains the significance of this life-changing epiphany, 'In a burst of clarity he realises that he has behaved like a complete idiot and acknowledges that his life is pointless without the heroine in it.' How this monumental thought process comes so swiftly to save the day, and the novel, may seem too important to merely gloss over on the way towards the Grand Romantic Gesture, but this lack of perception is consistent in all other areas of Secrets Uncovered and so we head onto the next statement.

'Waste no time in rectifying the situation. Make a Grand Emotional Gesture. Explain behaviour. At a push, confess that she might have been right after all. About some things. Possibly. Phew. Sorted.' Without details, explanation of importance, or advice of how to make this work convincingly King's guide sounds improbably easy. While the dramatic grovel offers a fine opportunity for sweeping romantic actions, the hero's sudden change of heart, and personality, simply works against everything else we have learned about writing romance fiction. There are merely two shades to the hero, as an epiphany turns him from an arrogant, misogynistic tycoon to a sensitive philanthropist who cannot make a decision without first consulting his wife. The fifty-five thousand words are split, unequally, with fifty-thousand of him being an irresistible jerk and a climatic chapter showing him in the midst of renaissance. This structure ruins the insights of a nuanced journey towards healthy new man of domesticity and fatherhood, and suggests a writer requires fifty thousand words to establish this man as a pillock.

'Wait a second.' What now, Lucy King? 'Something isn’t right.' You're gosh darn right something isn't right. 'Why isn’t she falling into his arms in gratitude?' Is it possible the heroine is smarter than she looks and has been written? Will her handsome owner have to go a step further and explain the plot even more heavy-handedly than the author had been doing throughout the book? Must he, 'Release all those emotions he didn’t even know he had, and take a deep breath and tell her that he loves her and can’t live without her?' Well, it couldn't hurt. Women love hearing that sort of thing. Now we have completed our heartfelt abasement and satisfied all the swooning female readers the world over, there is only the small matter of the heroine accepting this speech as genuine and their lover's arc as accomplished. 'Wait on tenterhooks for the heroine’s reaction.' Still, we know she will forgive, with a womanly smile of victory, and fall into his arms. 'Thank goodness for that. Live happily ever after,' instructs King, lastly.

Thank goodness and live happily ever after, indeed. For a moment it seemed as if those two would never work things out, so stubborn and made for each other as they were that not even their love could overcome an author rigorously committed to a pre-approved structure. In many cases the initial plot contrivance, or screw-up to use King's expert jargon, that prompted this narrative twist would either be too horrific for an apology to suffice, in which case the writer should begin their novel over, or be accidental, incidental or insignificant enough to be appropriate for Mills & Boon publication. Hearty congratulations to you, prospective authors, either way.

“Sadie was acutely aware that beneath the robe he was naked – and male”

When we ran screaming from the pages of Taken by the Sheikh to the warm embrace of Secrets Uncovered, Prince al Drac'ar al Karim believed he had found the perfect temporary wife for his elder brother, Vere. Together they co-rule the desert paradise of Dhurahn, but are being forced into arranged marriages to strengthen ties between their neighbouring states. Their only option is to find dim-witted Western virgins to marry quickly and then divorce once the fathers of their arranged brides have found somebody else. For Drax the plan sounds flawless and all seems ideal when he meets young English businesswoman Sadie Murray. The only spanner in the works is his own spanner, which tightens his bolts whenever he sees or thinks about Sadie. However, Drax has betrothed her to Vere, and the sacred bond of twin brothers is not to be meddled with, especially not by some woman, no matter how adorable, smart and sexy she is. For Sadie her attraction to Drax is instant and startling, so she is willing to undertake the many ridiculous plot machinations it requires to bring her to Dhurahn in expensive clothes, mostly because she is a dim-witted Western virgin.

While Vere is conducting business deals abroad Drax has the small matter of entertaining Sadie and convincing her the real reason she has a room at the luxurious palace is because the rulers wish to build a financial centre in town and seek those with knowledge of such things to join their growing team. Without employment, money or her passport, because Drax stole it, Sadie sees little option but to accept the job offer. Slowly their sexual chemistry is explored over a plentiful array of sequences involving fleetingly-glimpsed male nudity, light frottaging and displays of arrogance and emotion.

With all going as predictably as possible, Sadie and Drax run into Jack Logan during a tour of an office building. Jack is in Dhurahn for commercial reasons, yet his wandering eye and insistence all women agree to either consensual sex or rape cause severe problems for Sadie, who rejected him years ago when they used to work together. Jack maintains a grudge and having complimented her vilely he begins to grope and kiss her in the atrium. Drax intervenes in timely fashion, but his faith in Sadie's innocence has been compromised. If she were a demure virgin suitable for Vere, how come she kisses Jack Logan with his hand on her breast and terrified look on her face?

Instead, Drax resolves, he will marry Sadie himself, because sluts are more his speed. Suddenly, without warning for reader or Sadie, the first sex scene begins, but alas, with a hand gripping Drax's penis Sadie's inexperience betrays her, forcing him to wonder if the Jack Logan-incident was as damning as it had initially appeared. He abandons the sexual enterprise and instead has a brief, yet enlightening, chat with Jack, where the conceited Brit conceitedly admits he likes to scare women who have spurned his advances by threatening them with violation, but always jokingly and only when they have it coming. How could Drax have mistaken Sadie for every other girl on the planet? He rushes back to the mansion for the second sex scene, this time working himself into a frenzy only to abandon things to propose marriage. Sadie breathlessly accepts, and consummation is put off until their wedding night.

Unbeknownst to Drax, Sadie and Vere have already met in one of the opulent gardens of the palace, where Vere witnessed her charms for himself. Unfortunately for him and soap opera fans, despite their striking similarities, Sadie did not feel her heart beat inside its chest wall, her nipples pebble, or her sex moisten, so she was all too aware this Drax-lookalike was not her Drax. Therefore he could either be Vere or one of those doubles all Middle Eastern leaders seem to have. As it turns out the man is Drax's amiable, but emotionally-reticent, twin brother. Suddenly the younger Prince's best laid plans are torn asunder, so he retreats to aloof disdain, to allow Sadie to forget him and marry Vere instead, as promised in the prologue.

Shortly thereafter comes that time of the year to celebrate the anniversary of the Oasis of Two Doves, where Dhurahn's independence was first declared, at an oasis with a pair of doves. Typical of everything concerning this fictional Arab state the festivities are expansive and sand-swept, but sadly for Sadie and the servants of the party the entertainment must be cut short, due to a violent, incoming storm. Thinking this is as good an opportunity to confront Drax as she is likely to get, Sadie heads for his tent, only to be beaten to the punch by Vere, who has also decided an important conversation comes before fleeing certain death. Sadie has entered through a side tent-door, but is immediately trapped by a parked four-by-four. With no choice but to stay and overhear the twin brothers' discussion she misconstrues Drax's sarcastic comment, not made in his native tongue for reasons that are not entirely clear, about he and Vere sharing Sadie for their sexual pleasure, swapping her back and forth, turning her over only once one side gets stained.

Sadie scarpers, out through the side-door she was unable to get out through moments before, just in time to miss the next sentence, where the brothers clarify that sharing Sadie was not at all what they intend. Instead it is decided that Drax marry her, because while Vere thinks she the perfect wife he simply means perfect for Drax. You see, Sadie? They said innocent, complimentary things about you. Where are you going? Surely you're not about to steal a range rover and head straight into the sand-storm, desiring either to escape or die in the process. Wait, you are going to steal a range rover and head straight into the sand-storm, no doubt to crash into a bank of sand and hurt yourself. Oh, what a big, tragic confusion, and so close to the final chapter.

Drax heads off into the howling wind and sand, finding Sadie groggily semi-conscious and bleeding from the head. They return to the tent Vere considerately left for them to face the consequences of abandoning a threesome, while ignoring the head injury Sadie has suffered. Sensing the need to apologise and rectify the dire situation with a few words of explanation, Drax and Sadie strip naked and take to his bed, concluding that if they are about to die engulfed in sand, then waiting for their wedding night is an empty symbolic gesture. Soon the storm has ceased, Sadie has been filled with exquisite, tingly pleasure and Drax has left a baby in her belly. Penny Jordan marries them as something of an afterthought and then leaves them alone in their palatial bedroom quarters confessing undying love and hopefully finding out one or two personal things about each other, if they have character traits, that is, because the narrative failed to mention any.

So ends Taken by the Sheikh, a classic Mills & Boon Modern Romance, devoid of theme, romance, modernism or editing. With a tedious, contrived plot, a listless heroine, two-dimensional hero and atrocious prose style there were no redeeming features and no insights into why sheikhs are popular when they are nothing more than a synonym for billionaire in a slightly altered outfit. Previously, in a post concerning The Blagger's Guide, we referenced Penny Jordan's five tips for writing. Lamentably for her readers, Jordan was unable to follow her own straightforward advice, failing to introduce both hero and heroine by the end of the first page, and having a bland opening line, 'So the negotiations went well, then?' What kind of credible author begins a sentence with, 'So'?

Furthermore, her dialogue never convinces, the sex scenes gloss over sensuality and emotional intensity, instead insisting on lazy clichés and awkward euphemisms, while the protagonists are simplistic stereotypes of the genre. He the sheikh, arrogant, intelligent, but a deeply sensitive fool when it comes to matters of the heart. She the timid virgin with no personality, in the throes of servitude to male potency. Finally Jordan skimped on the conflict, her mismatched pair entirely made for each other, and both looking for love and a long-term commitment, although neither would have admitted it when the story began. Instead the author uses devices she swears against, the secondary character and two hokey misunderstandings. Where were the differences each had to overcome, where was the emotional development and what happened to the arcs? Finally, how has Penny Jordan been allowed to get away with this for so long?