“I hold his anxious, burning gaze for a moment, or maybe it's forever”

As 2012 dawdles to a close there appears to be no better time to culturally evaluate the changing fortunes of romance fiction. Over at Publishers Weekly Julie Naughton has assessed the evolution of theme, form and sparring partner in an article entitled Anything Goes, and this works out suitably, because there appears to be no better time to culturally evaluate the changing fortunes of romance fiction and without the dedicated research of a journalist Bewildered Heart would have no idea what any of those words mean. The growing success of digital imprints has seen Mills & Boon and Avon greedily pursue this online opportunity, and this means a more open and progressive attitude towards sexuality, monogamy, polyamory and any number of group activities. Fifty Shades may receive a bounty of credit, yet companies such as Ellora's Cave have been selling bondage and sadomasochism since 2001 and romances featuring gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender characters since 2007. Plans are presumably underway to combine the two next year. Meanwhile, ten per cent of novels published by Carina Press involve relationships other than the heterosexual pairings Harlequin Mills & Boon exclusively insist upon.

Is this a significant move on the part of the industry, a broadening of audience minds or simply a loosening of the classic definition of romance fiction? '“GLBT romance, including male/male and ménage stories, continues to become more popular as our society begins to embrace the idea that love is love and that a good romance story isn’t bound by gender,” explains Lorna Hinson of e-publisher Torquere Press. While this may be the case there is little evidence to suggest those reading traditional romances are becoming tired of the demure virgin meets arrogant billionaire and marries him formula. After all, this year's most popular novel could be summarised by the previous sentence. The author of Melting Ice, Nicole Austin, takes a different approach. “For many readers, being the center of a ménage is the ultimate fantasy. For those who have stressful, demanding careers, the idea of giving up control in the bedroom to a dominant partner is a little slice of heaven. Others may long for a same-sex encounter.” Has the market caught up with their readers, have the readers softened in their attitudes or is Austin trying to sell something? One positive to come from all this perversity is a genuine attempt to create rounded and believable gay and bisexual characters, far removed from the tired and offensive stereotypes of before. Surely the straight characters will be soon to follow suit.

Another phenomenon of romance literature has been the startling success of BDSM, but this is something of a misnomer. As Amy Pierpoint points out, “Romance readers have been devouring erotica for over a decade, but since these books were predominantly bought in e-book format, the sales weren’t reported through traditional sales channels.” Despite this, the surge in popularity is worth noting, albeit belatedly. After all, no such novel had broken through into the mainstream quite like those by E.L. James and now a new audience has demanded more. The reasons for this are unclear, but the ramifications could become serious. Next year will see the release of two interpretations of Jane Eyre, which will wonder out loud how Charlotte Brontë might have written her tale had she been allowed to include brooding and obsessive sex scenes throughout. Part of this move exemplifies the sophisticated transition the subgenre has undertaken. Titles and covers have become more elusive, even if the prose and characters have not. “Previously, the erotic titles featured more explicit covers, whereas the new covers are more subtle and feature objects, artistic lighting, and bold text,” says Cindy Hwang, executive editor at Berkley. Nothing says sophistication quite like a clearly captioned, well-lit photograph of a thing. The cheesy superficiality has disappeared and with it the dated snobbery aimed at brightly-coloured pictures of body parts and weird fonts.

Just as with real life there is a downside to too much sex and no one knows this better than the readers and writers of romance fiction. As Kate Douglas suggests, “The minute you give up on story development just to make something sexy, you’ve quit writing romance and gone over the slippery slope into pornography.” Still, as Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart acknowledged there is no obvious way to define pornography without asking him directly. Fifty Shades of Grey appears to be pornographic in its content, with narrative conventions such as a first person narrator and a barely discernible plot to disassociate it from whatever literary porn might look like. Due to this those readers disgusted by euphemisms and characters incapable of chafing have sought solace in the far end of the romance spectrum. As much as a voracious appetite among readers for graphic sex has developed there is just as strong an audience for the old-fashioned kind of romance, where courting is respectful, love is many-splendored and baby-making is done under woollen sheets and behind closed doors.

For more on this we turn to Laurie Gold of Heroes and Heartbreakers. The alternative to explicit sex is labelled Sweet, just as chocolate is often the alternative to explicit sex. Therefore a new niche has been defined, falling somewhere between, 'Religious morals (and) lustful escapades.' Yet what exists between church and the bedroom? As it turns out there are plenty of things to do and see that aren't offensive. Thus PG-rated stories feature small-towns with distinct personalities of their own, larger casts of colourful secondary characters and a more realistic representation of everyday life. Amy Pierpoint, of the inappropriately named and spelled Hachette, insists these novels will, 'Offer the ultimate fantasy: finding faith, hope, and happily-ever-after in a local community.' The strongest criticism of sweet romances, known to Mills & Boon fans as Cherish, is that they lack the emotional intensity of the sexier stories, but slowly this false impression has been overcome. Gratuitous erotica is not immediately suggestive of compelling plot-lines and the less time the hero and heroine spend in bed the more time an author has for conventionally peripheral concerns such as characterisation, story, depth and theme.

'As one end of the romance spectrum blurs with erotica, the other blurs with women’s fiction,' suggests Gold, with this latest fusion placing an emphasis on plot twists, humour and a grounding in a deeper reality than sexual fantasy. Thus a new style has emerged, eerily-similar to numerous other styles that have been popular for centuries. The situation has become so financially-lucrative that Harlequin has created an entirely new imprint called Heartwarming. Senior Editor Victoria Curran explains, 'Because these romances are not aimed at an inspirational audience, they need to be exciting page-turners.' For as long as Mills & Boon has published romance fiction their product has been sold to female readers as a lifestyle choice with a clear identity. Their heroines are aspirational figures living a good life and achieving their dreams of eternal love, marriage and babies with an idealised partner. Next year's novels, as mentioned by Publishers Weekly, do not stray far from this formula and the addition of vampires, sadists, widows and art thieves are shallow subversions of the conformist approach. As 2013 draws near readers, authors, critics and bloggers can look forward to more sex, less sex, more of the same, less of the same, a new subgenre to cater for each and finally making that choice between inspiring or compelling.

“I like horses,” he said. “And for some reason, I like you, too”

Due to the incomprehensible and enduring success of Mills & Boon it was only a matter of time before other publishing houses took the opportunity to wade into the saturated romance fiction industry. Smaller presses specialise in the niche corners of the market Harlequin has failed to capitalise on, but few companies are seen as genuine competition. Finally, one has emerged and recently Avon Romance has attempted to branch into the digital realm. Founded in 1941, Avon did not publish romance until the 1970s, but they quickly became notorious through the work of Kathleen Woodiwiss and Rosemary Rogers whose sexually explicit, rip-roaring rape fantasies such as The Flame and the Flower and Sweet Savage Love are considered forerunners of the modern romance genre that feminists railed against, women bought by the million and men were largely unaware of. What better time for some brand expansion to remind those mildly cognizant that nothing has changed?

In 1999 Avon swapped owners, leaving one despicable newspaper magnet for another. Shortly thereafter News International moved other interests to a sister company and stream-lined Avon down to a single commodity, allowing them to concentrate solely on rivalling Mills & Boon. Although the business claims to be at the cutting edge of reading technology their website is only now accepting unsolicited manuscripts for Impulse, their online imprint. The eventual intention is to throw a new novel into the ether of the internet every week, but before that can happen they will need some people to do the necessary work. This, as you may have already guessed, is where you might come in. While print submissions tend to weigh in at a hefty eighty thousand words, fifty to sixty thousand is all that is expected for their digital e-books. 'We want you to be our next star,' Avon exclaim. Their titles are faintly ridiculous, their cover photographs are unintentionally hilarious, their authors are poorly paid and their subgenres are eerily familiar, but how does Avon match up to Mills & Boon when it comes to idiotic submission guides?

'Q) Do you think all the fun has gone out of romance novels?' Well, Avon, much has changed since you were relevant. Nowadays heroines consent to sexual intercourse, so it would depend on how you were defining fun. 'A) Sometimes we do, too!' Oh, we didn't realise that was rhetorical, but then who knew romance novels used to be enjoyable. Clearly Avon has a passion for reinvigorating this much-maligned genre, and Bewildered Heart cannot find fault with this aspiration. After all, love stories have been in something of a rut for the previous few centuries. Therefore, what do you want, Avon Romance, anything even remotely different from everyone else? 'Fabulously sexy heroes who let nothing get in the way of getting what they want—the heroine of course—and giving her everything she needs.' Grammatical errors aside, a dominate alpha male relentless in his pursuit of a willing sexual partner is hardly a ground-breaking way with which to inject vitality and fun back into writing. The only character more archetypal than a strong, successful and handsome hero would be, 'Heroines unafraid to take chances in life…and in love. She’s smart and she’s never afraid to stand up for herself.'

The generic nature of romance has seen it fall foul of tiresome monotony. There is little here to suggest Avon has grander ambitions than any other purveyor of the identical product. Gone have the daring, politically-incorrect plot-lines that made their name, replaced by an underwhelming blandness. Nevertheless, the casual lack of clarity used to describe the ideal protagonists might imply a willingness to indulge subversion from prospective writers. With hero and heroine supposedly covered, Avon move onto the next vital ingredient. 'You choose the setting, just make sure it’s utterly romantic! We want to be able to immerse ourselves in the wonderful world that you’ve created.' Unlike those other stuffy publishers who insist upon their own suitable location, Avon allows you, dear authors, to invent your very own candlelit restaurants over-looking the ocean. At long last freedom? Possibly, but how many utterly romantic settings are left now that Washington State has been monopolised by vampires and perverts?

One curious avenue that might set Avon apart is their calling for series. 'Readers always cry out for more when you’ve given them characters to believe in…so give us more and you’ll get our attention.' While this sounds meaningless, the suggestion is that success will lead to further opportunities for success, allowing sequels, spin-offs and potentially more things to come from an initial story that readers don't immediately lose interest in. If a novelist has an idea for a trilogy, or an endless family saga loosely based around the drunken ramblings of a ninety-year-old with a god complex then Avon might be the home for such a concept, unless a home is found at practically any other publisher because such an offer is hardly unique. All these perfunctory statements might appear appealing on computer screen, but what kinds of manuscripts induce enthusiasm in the hearts of the Avon editors? Anything whatsoever? 'Dark and dramatic? Bring it on! We all love to laugh, but we’re also interested in stories that explore the many twists and turns of true love.' With this benign sentence the guidelines conclude and no one is any the wiser. There is little to learn from the Avon Romance website besides the fact that Avon Romance exists. Aspiring authors should bear in mind that if Mills & Boon reject their novel then there are other places that might reject it as well.

“Darn him for making even sarcasm look sexy!”

Anyone with a rational mind might have surmised that the article on happy endings that concluded Chapter Three of Secrets Uncovered would have signalled the end of the advice-giving. Typically of the logical, however, their brains serve no purpose when working out what goes on in romance fiction. Unsurprisingly Mills & Boon have one more epiphany to share, and even less startlingly that final piece of wisdom concerns unpredictability. Such a concept is not traditionally applied to the genre. In fact, the exact opposite is considered a major selling point. After all, boy must meet girl and boy must be handsome and wealthy, while the girl must be demure, beautiful and a twenty-seven year old virgin who has never recovered emotionally from being abandoned by her father. At a given point the couple must cede to overwhelming carnal desire and indulge in spectacular, life-affirming sex. By the end of the novel they must have overcome their petty differences and unresolved paternal anxieties to marry and make countless babies. What could possibly be unforeseeable in this classic formula that hasn't worked yet and shows no signs of fixing itself?

'At Romance HQ unpredictability has become the buzzword of 2011 – we’re constantly discussing and promoting ways to ensure our authors are producing the most exciting stories possible.' As we near the end of whatever we are calling this year it is safe to assume that the current buzzword is sadomasochism, and that development certainly seems fitting. Nevertheless, there is no reason to think that unpredictability will fall out of fashion, after all predictability remains as vibrant and popular as it always has. Therefore the fact that it has taken Bewildered Heart over a year to read a short e-book should not make this weblog entry any less relevant. Thrusting aside preconceived notions that Mills & Boon is misguided, what can aspiring authors learn from this hastily thrown together afterthought of a tip devoid of inspiration and sentences worth cutting and pasting? 'Less successful submissions tend to share a common flaw - a reliance on the same tried-and-tested conflicts and themes (‘I’ll write a Greek hero and a marriage of convenience!’).' Followers of Bewildered Heart should brace themselves for the realisation that Secrets Uncovered might have confused unpredictability with originality, and it wouldn't be the first time. No matter though, because their statement remains as true as their continued dedication to not publishing any new books featuring Greek heroes and marriages of convenience, and both.

'For everyone who likes a definition, in Romance HQ-speak, an unpredictable story delivers a compelling happy-ever-after that takes the reader on an unanticipated, cliché-free and emotionally engaging journey.' This adorable explanation helps to illustrate that unpredictability can be defined by a synonym and two characteristics a reader would never associate with Mills & Boon. These qualities must be the original twists the publishers claim to be constantly on the search for. Yet no definition would be loveable without a series of antonyms that aren't particularly beneficial. 'We don't mean crazy plot twists, inconsistent behaviour or random genre mash-ups – it’s definitely not an excuse to replace conflict with crashing plot devices!' These are wise words indeed, as no amount of unconventional story-telling justifies incompetence. Still, it remains hypocritical of the purveyors of Paranormal, Medical™ and NASCAR to summarily dismiss random genre mash-ups. Who knows what else can be combined with a love story to expose new ways in which to view love, as we have seen with the addition of cupcakes, Spaniards and Washington State.

Despite the publisher's challenge we are no closer to understanding how to imbue romance fiction with unique revelations that will force readers from their comfortable chairs and hazy alcoholic stupors. What does Mills & Boon want? 'Don’t panic, we’re not asking for radical differences!' Phew, eh. After all, if we were brimming with creativity we wouldn't have chosen romance as our favoured genre. 'You’ve heard this before, and we’ll say it again – it’s all in the characters! The best way to create a strong conflict and story is by starting with two interesting, original characters with a compelling story to tell.' It is appropriate that even an essay on unpredictability will revert back to the same insight every how-to guide uses. These books begin and end with the hero and heroine. It would appear that once you have a one-of-a-kind Greek billionaire and a never-before-seen virginal orphan twenty-something caught up in an innovative version of a marriage of convenience your novel will tell itself, leaving you to work on the name and location changing that amounts to writing a follow-up.

For the redundancy of their article Mills & Boon is sensible to endlessly repeat their mantra. The unavoidable conclusion of Secrets Uncovered is that despite everything to the contrary there are no inventive ideas to revolutionise romance fiction and there doesn't need to be. Aspiring authors are best served simply telling their stories well. Through depth, humanity and honesty clichés can prove what made them such strong concepts in the first place, worthy of their endless recycling. Now Bewildered Heart has finished stripping Secrets Uncovered for parts there seems no more suitable time for a full evaluation, but there is little point. Much like romance novels themselves the e-book has a single idea bulked out with rambling padding. Even the single idea is a weak one, the straight-forward assertion that characters are everything. No words are wasted on sentence structure or how to infuriate your reader with a clumsy simile comparing the churning in the heroine's stomach to a sinking boat on a stormy ocean of concupiscence. Perhaps such skills come naturally. Before the inevitable panic does kicks in, there is one way to bring genuine originality to your novel. 'If you want to tackle a more controversial theme, go for it!' There you are. Not only the inspiration, but more importantly the permission.

Harlequin's quest for vitality has seen it attempt to escape its reputation for generic romances grandmothers read. Nowadays hip, young perverts are found buying Twilight and Fifty Shades by the wheelbarrow-load. Mills & Boon have struggled in vain to prosper from this audience, consistently thwarted by their own authors playing it safe. Of course, the aforementioned phenomena are about as ground-breaking as they are scandalous, but their sales reflect a change in reader mood. There may never have been a more suitable time for pertinence to be introduced into romance fiction. What are these contentious issues Secrets Uncovered talks of? Racism, ugliness, elitism, actual prostitution, the list of options seems endless and increasingly unlikely to ever be published. In September Harlequin Teen printed Speechless, a Hannah Harrington novel involving a vow of silence following a hate crime. She somehow finds love and learns any lessons Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak forgot to teach. Might Harlequin adults follow Harlequin teens in dealing with realistic social problems in a way that isn’t deeply offensive? Would such earnest examinations benefit from being interwoven into an idealised love story with a happy ending? Are there serious and divisive subjects connected to relationships worthy of exploration and later a possible mention on Romance Novels for Feminists? There appears to be only the one way to find out and a firm rejection from the improved, politically-conscious Mills & Boon would only serve to exemplify their hypocrisy, and that would prove just as satisfying as seeing a book on the shelf.

“Three heart-breaking, regret-filled, uneventful days”

Anyone who has ever visited the internet will have noticed that there sure is a lot of internet on there. Every possible taste is catered for, and as Bewildered Heart goes to show there are even websites that cater to the interests of nobody. The enduring popularity of romance fiction transcends fleeting phenomena such as technology, but Harlequin has been quick to capitalise on the evolving ways in which humans read, learn, socialise and share photographs. Authors communicate to readers with a satisfying immediacy and fans can unite to discuss, recommend and philosophise deeply their second favourite subject, after themselves. Within this presumably unprofitable cottage industry there are the odd dissenting voices and there are bloggers who are attempting to change the ways in which we assimilate the tropes of the genre. Romance Novels For Feminists argues that even advocates for equal rights can love Mills & Boon without betraying their values. Does Harlequin need to update their attitudes or should the public's perception of Harlequin get with the times? How can RNFF be more popular than Bewildered Heart? Are we really analysing sexism within romantic literature again, even after we effectively solved that whole issue months ago? None of those questions will be answered below.

The traditionally misguided notions of conventional wisdom and public opinion believe Mills & Boon's product is unhealthy, not only for the hackneyed prose and predictable plotting, but because the, 'Genre’s conventions may appear to grant women power, but in truth work to limit women’s power within patriarchy, and resist any messages that might teach women how to subvert its restrictions.' The very publisher offering books by women for women are the ones keeping women doomed to the perpetual subservience and unhappiness that men used to force upon them. However, there is, as there always is in a democracy, an opposing viewpoint. The critic Pamela Regis has suggested that, 'The romance novel is about women’s freedom... and popular because it conveys the pain, uplift, and joy that freedom brings.' Yet presumably readers cannot have it both ways, and Romance Fiction For Feminists points out both arguments are based on sweeping generalisations. The genre is too vast and too categorised for one-fits-all statements. Mills & Boon is slowly developing and with them their heroines are becoming more independent and successful by the novel. The frightfully sexist Doctors and Nurses imprint became Medical™ and perhaps most tellingly of all Harlequin added a new subgenre to its roster, Feminist, where heroines proudly choose to die alone, sarcastic, bitter and without make-up on.

'The romance novel’s central conflict is a struggle between two individuals intent on negotiating how power will be divided and/or shared between them.' While this isn't nearly as romantic a description as it could have been, a Mills & Boon is a deliriously-heightened version of the recognisable politics within any relationship. The compromises, agreements, personality clashes and emotional arcs depend upon credible and honest portrayals of this journey. Romances therefore reach their happy ending through various means. Typically authors favour, 'Feminine submission to a dominant man; while others explicitly reject such submissiveness while implicitly endorsing it.' Occasionally, and with a knowing wink to empowered women, there are many that, 'Marry action and ideology, presenting protagonists who share power equally.' Thus the genre serves a multitude of purposes. 'By comparing and contrasting what a successful negotiation of power in a romantic relationship looks like a discerning feminist reader can learn about equitable models, and the tricks our culture uses to convince women to accept inequitable ones.' Without realising it or intentionally pursuing any objective other than profit and glazed stares into middle distance Harlequin have contributed to feminist theory, albeit much in the same way as the guests on Jerry Springer have benefited cognitive linguistics.

'Traditionally, romance has been characterized by a strict heteronormativity.' What scholars dub heteronormativity we call a happy ending. As previously discussed the eternal union of a beautiful woman to a handsome man at the story's conclusion is the defining trait of romance. Nevertheless, monogamy is no more anti-feminist than a loyal and sensitive billionaire made of chocolate is. Psychologists have demonstrated that women read romance novels to reinvigorate their love lives and reaffirm their commitments to partners, and only the most cynical of feminists would imply that this process masks deep-seated repentance and a genuine desire to escape quiet lives and desperate marriages. Thus we move on to chief among the criticisms of the genre, the predictable repetition, and, on a related note, the sex scenes. Mills & Boon plays upon the reassurance of familiarity, but does the focus on the initial courtship offer a false model, that a couple's problems are over once they declare their undying love and does this, 'Deny the necessity of the constant dance of love, hurt, anger, and forgiveness that make up the day-to-day workings of most real-life relationships?'

Romance Novels For Feminists disagrees, 'If you read romances on a regular basis, you actually find an echo of the relationship work you have to slog through. Repetitively encountering the pattern through reading of many romance novels heartens the work of enduring the same repetition in day-to-day life.' This sounds suspiciously like the self-justifying defence of a guilty pleasure and the writer acknowledges the shaky footing under which this statement was constructed. Why have Mills & Boon not published any stories involving married characters going to therapy, or openly arguing during terse dinner parties at the homes of wealthier, more contented, couples? Such idealistic notions of love and the firm refusal of reality are more widely political than the restriction of women to chains of bondage. Equally the desired and popular fantasies Harlequin sell require an indifference towards logic, so why can't a feminist reader choose the occasional romance without needing to rationalise their behaviour, in the same way intellectuals might accidentally enjoy the cinematic offerings of Michael Bay?

Finally, there is the endlessly problematic view that such novels are pornography for women, as opposed to pornography, which is pornography for men. 'This label suggests that women in particular should be ashamed about being interested in, and reading about, sex. As a feminist, I take exception to such a belief.' Who wouldn't, but then pornography is subjectively characterised, albeit most often with negative connotations. Romance Fiction For Feminists goes into greater detail on this idea in later posts, even daring to chastise the industry for not being progressive enough to elicit rebellion. Author Ann Snitow views sexually explicit prose hopefully, due to her insistence that, 'Good sex for women requires an emotional and social context that can free them from restraint.' Unfortunately romantic heroines tend to wait for their emotionally wary heroes, shedding sexual aggression and spontaneity for the more desirable passivity and innocence. Seen in this way even the sex scenes in romance fiction are part of patriarchal oppression. Nevertheless, 'If pornography is defined as sexually-related subject matter that sexually stimulates its reader/viewer, then calling romance novels “pornography for women” is no insult in this feminist’s book,' the blog post concludes. By the sounds of it the feminist's book she speaks of is shamelessly disgraceful.

“He ran through air thick as quicksand, each move bogged down by guilt and regret”

The numerous obsessive Bewildered Hearts out there may recall an awkward encounter this weblog suffered through thanks to a Mills & Boon Desire 2-in-1. Here the benevolent publishers offered twice the romance, making The Millionaire's Indecent Proposal and Under the Millionaire's Influence the bread in an unappetising sandwich that had no filling. Never one to give up on a failed metaphor Mills & Boon has continued with this tradition and now Bewildered Heart has a new double novel to contend with, only this time there are two Special Moments for the price of two. Previously remembered as Romance Romance, and now known as Cherish, Special Moments is an imprint that specialises in fanciful fantasies and lightweight comedies, distinctly separated from the gritty realism of Modern, the sweaty sensuality of Spice and the ethnicity of Spanish. With no discernible qualities besides in what they are lacking therefore, Special Moments pushes the absurdity of romance fiction to the forefront, leaving readers in no doubt that Cherish authors live in a delusionally blissful state, writing novels such as Once Upon a Wedding and Accidental Princess.

For the time being we will focus our attention on the former, a 2009 effort by Stacy Connelly. While the title implies gruelling disappointment Once Upon a Wedding also suggests fairytale nuptials, and after the opening three chapters the reader will have had their worst fears confirmed. Life hasn't been kind to Kelsey Wilson. Despite her thriving business, winning personality, stunning good looks and impressive breasts Kelsey has had her fair share of misfortune. First there was something to do with her father the narrative rather glossed over, and then her dear and feisty mother picked one fight, with cancer, that she couldn't win. Presumably orphaned and frightfully working class Kelsey was taken in by her Aunt and Uncle, the billionaire Wilson's of the legendary Wilson Family. Kelsey grew up in the shadow of her beautiful blonde cousins, Emily and Aileen, and as a result of not seeing any sunlight has grown into a literal pale imitation. Now a somewhat struggling wedding planner she has her biggest, and possibly first, event to coordinate, the marriage of Emily Wilson and Todd Dunworthy, of the resplendent Dunworthy clan. With ten days before the ceremony a rather large and attractive spanner is through into the works. The bride and groom only went and invited Emily's ex-boyfriend, Connor McClane, to the wedding and now he has arrived, spanner wedged uncomfortably into his trousers and with every intention of halting the couple's happiness and Kelsey's gainful employment.

Thus Once Upon a Wedding's heroine has a new job to add to that of everything else, she must stop Connor from whatever he is doing, but what is Connor doing? Connor McClane has a good life. He lives somewhere and works as the world's sexiest private detective. Sunglasses look tremendous on his face and even one of his lazy half-smiles is enough to reduce the female population to giddy puddles of excitement. Sure, he's a rebel from the wrong sides of the tracks and yeah, he was never good enough for Emily's uptight parents and big deal, he was responsible for an innocent woman getting murdered a couple of weeks ago and so what, he's an insensitive, paranoid jerk who gave up love for a big cheque, but Connor McClane has changed and now only three of those things are true. A month ago Connor had dinner in San Diego with Todd and Emily, and his tingly Private Detective senses went into overload. Something about Todd's smug wealth and handsome face and penis in Emily rubbed Connor the wrong way. Since then he has been hellbent on proving the groom is unsuitable for Emily and his exhaustive and expensive investigation has brought him absolutely no evidence. Yet Connor does not need evidence when he has a hunch and a history of fatally misjudging people. While readers may jump to the conclusion that he still harbours feelings for Emily, Connor dispels such notions by immediately attempting to seduce Kelsey, even going so far as to stare at her breasts.

While Kelsey was living in lowly one-bedroom apartments with her mother, Emily was the society princess her parents always planned for her to be. However, Emily had very different ideas, ideas borrowed from too many hackneyed Hollywood movies to recount. Aged eighteen she fell for Connor, a bad boy on a motorcycle and their doomed love affair fizzled briefly before Mr. Wilson paid Connor to break up with Emily and leave town. Nothing would have given Connor greater satisfaction than throwing the money back in the old man's face, but unfortunately destiny conspired against such idealistic notions of youth, because even then Connor loved money and needed some for a business opportunity. However long it has been since then has passed, but Emily has not changed, and is still the easily-manipulated arm candy she has always been. For this reason Connor has returned, perhaps to stop a sham marriage, or maybe just needing more money from Mr. Wilson. Our supposedly down-to-earth heroine cannot resist Connor's wild conspiracy theories or impish grin, and as the third chapters ends the adventure to bring down Todd Dunworthy has begun, just as soon as Connor finishes having breakfast in his hotel room with Emily.

Unlike every Mills & Boon novel Once Upon a Wedding contains a superficial impression that money isn't necessarily attractive. Although Kelsey shows the archetypal disinterest in wealth that all romantic heroines pretend to have before they marry a billionaire, Connor arrives in town as the never-do-well troubled youth made good. He has expendable resources for his vendetta against Todd and for a fortnight's stay at a five-star hotel, but these plot contrivances are more likely erroneous missteps by Connelly rather than subtle references to Connor's status as the richest private eye Earth has ever known. Laying the alpha male's financial comfort aside, the novel retains many trademarks of traditional Mills & Boon shelf-filler. Kelsey is an unassuming beauty, disgusted by her womanly curves, porcelain skin, fiery hair and freckles. Fortunately for the book's genre, and her own self-confidence, Connor likes his proverbial cushions sparkling white, plumped up and with red trim. Of lesser importance perhaps, Kelsey prefers a man to be an assured, patient, idealised Adonis with nothing but compliments and commitment on his mind. Soon swept along by Connor's immaculate brilliance, of course, and it hardly seems to matter what she wants.

Little of significance takes place over the course of the initial sixty pages, with the author cramming in as much laboured back-story as possible. When the action does manage to briefly catch up with the present hero and heroine are found wistfully remembering how beautiful the other is, only to worry over how their instant infatuations cannot lead anywhere, because Connor and Emily used to date and Kelsey is supposed to be distracting him, not falling in love. Despite these persuasive reasons they are falling in love, they have no choice, yet what is there to suggest that this couple are meant to be together? Without discernible personalities to give depth to their journeys they only share a disdain for Charlene, Emily's social-climbing, conceited mother. Kelsey is a mess of panic and neuroses, but Stacy Connelly has simply contrived the creation of her hero to specifically love all of her heroine's flaws and anxieties. Thus by failing to flesh out a credible protagonist the surrounding world she relates to becomes stereotypical and emotionally-clichéd. There is no need to fret at this early stage though, as there is much plotting to unfold over the remaining one hundred and fifty pages. Villains will be unmasked, lives shall be saved, secrets will be revealed and at some point Kelsey and Connor will wed.

“Are you ready for all the happily-ever-after, love-of-a-lifetime, till-death-do-us-part stuff?”

As the predictably tedious wisdom of humans dictates all good things must come to an end. On a  related note all Mills & Boon novels must end as well, usually with some lip-locking and a few grand promises between two people standing somewhere expensive. Romance fiction is defined by its happy endings and there is no room for manoeuvre when it comes to the meaning of the word happy. Therefore every Harlequin book must conclude in the same manner, with the hero apologising for his previous errors in judgement and the heroine accepting his behaviour in exchange for money and babies. Authors are perceptively advised to finish writing at the most delirious and idealised moment of a relationship, the initial declaration of eternal love, while leaving the reader to ponder the implications and whether it all worked out for the best. Despite this seemingly straight-forward lack of ambiguity Secrets Uncovered closes out Chapter Three with a brief lesson in how to conjure up the most satisfying of happy endings, helpfully spelt out with five tips that are fairly obvious.

What say you, editors. 'Be Creative – We know that it's hard to avoid happily ever after clichés and there’s certainly nothing wrong with a fairytale wedding or a baby bump but think of what new twist or spin you can put on these tropes.' While it is good to know that all the creativity we haven't been using up until this point may finally be expended, how does one think of fresh spins on pregnancy and marriages, besides making them secret pregnancies and secret marriages? 'For example maybe your hero and heroine get their happy family by adopting or maybe your heroine is the one who proposes!' Those certainly are fresh spins on conventional tropes and are sure to delight your readership of old-fashioned traditionalists, but is this really the most ambitious subversions we can hope for, and would such things ever be accepted in idealised romance? Has the time come for assertive, modern women to buy their own engagement rings and out-source baby-making to those physically capable? What will become of our beloved commitment-phobic alpha males now such contemporary heroines have found a way to build a domestic life without needing a man's willingness, bended knee or sperm?

'Your ending should belong to your characters – Make sure that it grows organically out of who your characters are. As you write keep asking yourself what the characters want most in the world, why they want it, and what’s stopping them from achieving it.' While this piece of advice suggests authors must guide their archetypes to a contractually-obligated finale with a natural grace that belies the truth, every love story depends upon an allusion to destiny and complex ethereal forces that do not exist. Therefore with a hero and heroine so utterly hopeless without one another and barely able to function in their successful careers or contented home lives the inescapable choice of being together can be tailored organically because the characters are simply too shallow to think of alternative ideas. This somehow brings us on suitably to the next point where Secrets Uncovered explains how murder mysteries are basically romances, except a murder is replaced by a meet cute and a chase after the guilty party is largely retained. 'The solution, once revealed, must seem to have been inevitable,' as Raymond Chandler once said, or as Harlequin put it, 'No shock twists for the sake of it!'

Of course there have been no surprise revelations in romance since Jane Eyre found a wife in the attic and Cathy discovered that Heathcliff was a ghost. Nowadays handsome millionaires turn out to be gorgeous billionaires and sexy bellhops are unmasked as Mediterranean Princes, which is hardly as devastating or dramatic as Mills & Boon writers seem to think. With the narrative structure involving dual internal monologues through an omnipotent third person narrator there is little mystery to intrigue the reader. The recent trend has given the author an opportunity to play on tension between hero and heroine, but more often than not this is squandered, as hidden truths are never particularly disgraceful and everyone concerned is far too polite and desperate for love to cause a scene. Consider titles such as The Truth about the Tycoon, in which the heroine learned that the man she loved was not only someone else, but someone richer, more famous and with a slightly more credible back-story. The supposedly shocking finale of The Domino Effect piled incredulous disclosure upon contrived decision until the reader decided on a suitable place to stop and never thought of the book again.

'Tie up all loose ends – Make sure you keep track of even the smallest sub-plot aspect, and that you resolve them. For example you can’t have a secondary character go for a walk around the ground of your hero’s stately home and never come back!' Actually them never coming back would be a resolution as there is a certain finality to never, but Secrets Uncovered argues a compelling case. While practically every Harlequin novel fails to adhere to this most basic tenet of story-telling few aspiring authors should send a secondary character for a walk and then not at least mention in the epilogue that they were eaten by a bear. The final hint treads on similar territory and even manages to repeat many of the same words, 'Resolve the central conflict – Most importantly your hero and heroine must face up to and overcome their internal conflicts by the time you reach the climax of the story.' Failing to do this is what separates actual finales from abandoned novels. After all, if your characters have not dealt with their neuroses and married then the chances are your novel isn't finished yet.

At this point Secrets Uncovered moves on to whatever comes after endings, leaving us to ponder what we have learned. What would anyone have learned from reading this cobbled-together collection of clichés? Well, there is more to writing an ending than simply typing THE END and closing your laptop, just as there is more to writing a novel than simply typing the first fifty-five thousand words that spring to mind. While readers know what to expect from the climaxes of romance fiction the ending remains a strong selling point of a book, rivalled in importance only by the hero. When a couple kiss and commit to several months of idyllic sex followed by endless months of painful divorce proceedings this moment of certainty and hope is the culmination of all the novelist has been working towards, the final definitive statement on love and happiness. This creation of life-affirming optimism is the very reason millions read Mills & Boon books, and continue to read Mills & Boon books, even though on numerous previous occasions they have been disappointed or betrayed by an ending. Every new bundle of synonyms holds a promise of capturing these feelings, and for an aspiring author there is both an implied and contractual obligation to see hero and heroine achieve what they desire and deserve. Meanwhile, when the dastardly, cloying, second suitor disappears on a walk and is later found to have been eaten by a bear his fate, while surprising, must be seen to have been inevitable. That's a sign of quality writing.

" I don’t remember reading about nipple clamps in the Bible"

Selling studious criticism of Mills & Boon to devoted fans of Mills & Boon who are savvy with the internet has proved an arduous struggle for this Bewildered Heart weblog. The notion that romance novels are inherently dim-witted has been acknowledged by everyone except the authors of those books, and even they appear to be defending their work with the same lazy indifference to quality that they bring to their prose. Despite this, their enduring popularity remains undiminished. The fall in sales of chick-lit has been well-documented, but romance fiction is as profitable and newsworthy as ever, thanks largely to two phenomenal franchises, the twee teenage vampire swooning of Twilight and the decidedly less virtuous world of Fifty Shades. Sales of the first book, Fifty Shades of Grey, have reached demented new heights in success, out-selling Harry Potter and The Da Vinci Code within four months of release, with digital and print sales upwards of six million. The sequels, Darker and Freed, have similar, though less spectacular figures, suggesting either readers bought all three in one go, or read the first one and decided not to bother with the latter two. Is this the Lord of the Rings of literary sex?

The trilogy tells the sordid dating history of Anastasia Steele, a beautiful university graduate who attracts the attention of enigmatic twenty-something tycoon Christian Grey. He offers her the lucrative opportunity of being his mistress and she accepts for reasons that aren't explained satisfactorily. It is at this point that the book begins to twist its mundane, everyday scenario. Christian hides a dark secret and, furthermore, he is a sadomasochist with a penchant for whips, chains and possibly other torture devices. He is shocked, and no doubt a little perturbed at his lack of research, when he learns that Ana is a virgin and not particularly aroused by bondage gear. From there only two potential endings seem likely and one of those seems unlikely. Surprisingly, Ana leaves Christian at the end of the first book, frustrated that her mysterious owner hasn't overcome his deep-rooted psychological scarring and given her a hug. In the second part, Fifty Shades of Darker, Ana meets an enigmatic pharmaceutical CEO named Ezra Darker who offers her a small fortune to pretend to be his wife at a forthcoming family get-together while Fifty Shades of Freed introduces wealthy tree surgeon Cornelius Freed and the three men throw money at one another until Anna declares one of them the winner and marries him.

Within months of their release the books have become the literary sensation of the year, E.L. James is the must-have dinner party guest of the season and light violence has been added to everyone's sexual repertoire. Christian Grey is truly the popsicle flavour of the month. Even Hollywood has joined in, announcing plans for the film adaptation, with the likes of Emma Watson, Angelina Jolie, Ryan Gosling and 1980s Mickey Rourke all unrealistically linked to the roles. Some have hailed this as the summer of the bonkbuster, while others have coined the term 'Mummy Porn,' although this suggests something entirely different. These phrases do a disservice to this burgeoning subgenre, as well as sarcastic wits the world over, as James has hardly tapped into an until now unknown market. Her novels have sold astoundingly, as if every Mills & Boon fan stopped buying from the assortment of titles their favoured publisher proffered and instead plumped for the same book. Fifty Shades has not trounced the competition of the romance genre, it has simply become the romance genre.

In response to this consumerism, Mills & Boon has reacted by reissuing twelve of its most erotically-charged sadomasochistic novels, including Going Down and Cuffing Kate, but in doing so have they assumed the reason for E.L. James' recording-breaking trilogy is the sexual content and not the hackneyed archetypal characters, the hostile misogyny or the insipid writing? After all, Mills & Boon cornered the market on those years ago, and they have been running Spice, their explicit imprint, since 2008, and yet Fifty Shades was published by Random House, some company that could have been anybody. Notoriously Harlequin's product is not promoted for individual glory. Their books are on shelves for thirty days, but the evolution of technology has allowed contracted authors a shot at continuing relevance. Now all Mills & Boon books exist permanently through websites and as ebooks, and it is electronically that E.L. James found her audience. She began her career, as all modern authors do, penning Twilight fan fiction for an online forum where Twi-Hards reimagine their beloved heroes and heroines in a variety of situations. James quickly gained a following thanks to her eroticism and cliffhanger endings. Bella referred to Edward as Fifty and soon enough entirely original characters had developed, she a passive virgin and he a dominating billionaire, thus unlike anything in the history of romantic fiction.

The cynical attempts to cash-in on a hungry public desire may have misjudged their target audience as well as misunderstood the appeal of the Fifty Shades books, but anyone who has read, or attempted to read, E.L. James is at a loss to explain what her fans see in her. Reviews have been as negative as those aimed at Stephenie Meyer or the Sex and the City movies, suggesting a division between popular opinion and critical evaluation. Nevertheless, the reaction of Mills & Boon does not imply changes to their product or lessons learned from James' interpretation of modern romance. The issue of great significance at the heart of Fifty Shades is in marketing, and this is where Harlequin consistently betray their readers and authors as if as a matter of course. Fifty Shades of Grey may have been born from humble beginnings, but using the Twilight forums helped generated the sensational word-of-mouth that contributed to the impressive online sales that begat the print numbers. What followed was wholly predictable, as women rushed to buy the novels their colleagues, friends and over-confident strangers were all talking about. Many were titillated, but those expecting hardcore eroticism, lessons in sex toys or competent writing were disappointed. Briefly a healthy attitude towards sexuality was pushed into mainstream conversation, but Ana's virginity and Christian's unhealthy attitude towards sexuality soon put paid to that.

Nevertheless, Mills & Boon might hope to strike while the iron is hot, as any adventurous hero would insist, and seize this opening to update their brand. Fifty Shades of Grey is as unashamedly old-fashioned as Twilight, but the books are seen as the contemporary alternatives to Harlequin Romances it is socially acceptable to enjoy. With such a stigma attached there are obvious explanations for why the likes of Meyer and James have pitched their work elsewhere, yet the truth is Fifty Shades of Grey could have been published by Spice as The Billionaire's Blackmailed Mistress, few would have read it and the author would have been given a contract to dream up four new novels by the end of the year. If Mills & Boon has any intention of modernising its product, besides designing a website, here is as good a chance as they have ever been given. They invented this saturated market and then they saturated it. A new crowd of readers with plenty of money and little discernible taste has announced itself eager for a follow-up and all Harlequin can offer is shelf after shelf of drearily identical, colour-coordinated novels. Instead they need a single title, stacked artistically on its own table with a banner and a clever lighting arrangement, that tells the story of a penniless, yet likeable, virgin girl who meets a mysterious, brooding billionaire with a perverse ultimatum and also an estranged wife locked in the attic. Does anyone anywhere have anything like that lying around?

“Down boy, he thought, and comforted himself with Chocolate Sin”

For all authors aiming to conquer the romance fiction industry there is one name each would aspire to eclipse in terms of fame and success, and recently Bewildered Heart had its first, and hopefully last, flirtation with the publishing juggernaut named Nora Roberts. The MacGregor Grooms has been a blessed book for this weblog, with its three novellas guaranteeing months of subject matter to see us through the summer. Now the inevitable end has come, but many questions and concerns remain. Before putting this book back where it belongs, in the recycling bin behind the library, there is time for a full and unequivocal appraisal which may in turn reach any number of conclusions as to why The MacGregor’s are so beloved, why Nora Roberts is so adored and whether D.C. lost his manhood after all that frosty sex?

According to self-proclaimed Nora Roberts Examiner Carol Thomas at eleven books The MacGregor franchise is, 'Both the most extensive series she published for Silhouette and the most popular.' The initial story, Playing The Odds, concerned Daniel's attempt at fixing up his only daughter Serena with eligible gambler Justin Blade. From there things blossomed, somehow, into a sprawling family tree of endless repetition of a theme. The reasons for this, as Roberts would later explain to All About Romance, were purely down to money and a lack of imagination. 'When I started Playing The Odds, it was planned as one book. Somewhere during the writing of it, I decided to write stories involving each of Serena's brothers... So that meant three books. Then I had an idea to connect Shelby's brother, so that was four. And I fell for Daniel. Big time. My editor had received so many letters on him, she asked me if I would be willing to write his and Anna's story. She got a big yes! Later, when I was asked to write an historical, doing the MacGregors and the '45 in Scotland seemed like a natural. And again when I wrote a novella, for Harlequin Historicals, the MacGregors popped into my head.'

Once an author begins to churn out manuscript after manuscript of impossibly beautiful, talented people falling in love despite the sins of their parents the only challenge stems from having to constantly think up different names for the characters. However, there is more to The MacGregor's appeal than the writer's laziness, as Roberts' anecdote proves. The family grew as a result of reader demand as much as contractual obligations. 1987's For Now, Forever discloses the background of the monumental meeting of egos that was the courtship of Daniel and Anna. The MacGregor recounts the tale as he recovers from a car accident, possibly the result of his drinking problem. While Daniel receives much devotion from fans and family members alike, Anna Whitfield took on a prominent role in the novel as the feisty feminist who refused to be romanced, until she arbitrarily changed her mind and got married. For causes not explained with words or evidence Wylene Rholetter has described Anna as, 'Arguably the most revolutionary heroine among Roberts's category romances, a feminist in an age before the word was coined.' This would be glowing praise, had Roberts ever been renowned for her revolutionary heroines or had the book also been written in an age before feminism.

Due to the shameful superficiality, the tedious characterisation, the banal dialogue and insipid descriptions of womanly dithering contained within The MacGregor Grooms any explanations of the enduring prosperity of the series must be learned from elsewhere. After all, there is little to discern this Nora Roberts novel from any of her hundreds of others, or the thousands of others published by an endless list of similar best-selling authors. For many the prospect of inner-connected stories is appealing. Mills & Boon has shown a propensity for rolling, casually-linked novels, often involving the siblings of what are presumably Catholic parents. Therefore The MacGregor collection is hardly unique, but perhaps where Roberts has deviated from the standard scenario is in the scale in which her family inhabit the world. This is one spectacular dynasty, a Kennedy-like clan without the assassinations, open marriages and despicable patriarch. Alan MacGregor becomes U.S. President, and elsewhere there are doctors, artists, architects, entrepreneurs, lawyers and the women they wed. Even the assortment of gamblers make good. Many marry into equally wealthy families and their fictional status within an idealised world blossoms unrealistically without so much as a raised eyebrow from the reader.

There are few romance novels more fantastical than The MacGregor's unless you delve into the murky world of Paranormal, and although the pastoral locations and perfect people who populate the books have a tendency to trip onto the wrong side of parody there is plenty to recommend the extremities of Roberts' work. Mills & Boon followers choose fantasy over earthy realism and the best authors shovel the sappy romance on thick. If the heroes are gorgeous, charming, decent, successful and rich then why not have them as gorgeous, charming, decent, successful and rich as possible? This is as formulaic and stereotypical as romance fiction gets, but it would be almost impossible to exaggerate these characters and scenarios any further without losing the audience. This is the fine line Roberts must tread, but her readers seem willing and able to forgive the worst indulgences because they are complicit in enjoying the commitment to excess. As repeatedly noted during the reviewing process Roberts exacerbates her errors with her chosen format. The three revealing briefs only serve to underline the glaring lack of variety and insight. DC, Duncan and Ian are as tedious and forgettable as their names. The heroines are given depth and neuroses largely because Roberts has written The MacGregor family without physical or emotional flaws. Therefore each glorious specimen of masculinity cures a twenty-something woman of whatever is bothering her through handsomeness, money and genitals. Layna did not believe in love because her parents lived a sham marriage, but then she fell in love because DC is dreamy and fear was defeated. Cat wanted everything and got it because Duncan already had everything and was willing to share in exchange for sex. Finally Naomi was a virgin and an idiot, but Ian had a patient penis and happened to be an idiot too.

Just as important as all the marriages was the birth of Fiona Joy, Julia's second child. With this lengthy diversion being of no narrative necessity, it can be assumed that the MacGregor legacy is of equal significance to the romance for the fans of the series. Although Roberts concluded the franchise with the follow-up to The MacGregor Grooms, there was no particular need not to continue, despite the fact that Daniel Duncan cannot be immortal and what would the books become without the irascible patriarch drunkenly pulling the strings? Roberts plays upon soap opera machinations with these multi-generational novels as wealth accumulates, couples tie the knot, babies are born and attractive people do exciting things in expensive locations, but for the sake of wistful love she does away with the fighting, tension and obstacles that might heighten the drama of an inconsequential flirtation into a compelling saga. Yet such alternations could have been simply accomplished and therefore the dull, pleasant nothingness of The MacGregor Grooms is not only intentional, but key to the unchallenging charm. If sales had been disappointing, or even average, there would be little else to comment on. Thus for the sake of putting this sorry episode behind us, let us perpetuate the delusion that sales were disappointing.

“Her legs dissolved, her bones melted and the blood sang under her skin”

When we escaped from Part Three of The MacGregor Grooms at the end of the third chapter life was rosy for Boston's favourite son, eligible bachelor of law Ian MacGregor. Business was thriving, he was ridiculously gorgeous, his family were mostly married and pregnant and he knew that nothing bad would ever happen to anyone he came into contact with. Recently he had bought his dream house and kissed his dream woman, the luminous Naomi Brightstone, after their perfect first date. Plans for the future included more of the same, with the heart-warming prospect of repeatedly crashing waves of tumbling passion into Naomi, leading to multiple trouble-free pregnancies and a lifetime of effortless bliss, with no danger of his looks fading, his health failing, his grandparents dying or a doubt ever entering his hairy head. Despite this, there remained seven chapters to read. Would Nora Roberts create a conflict to bulk out her thin tale, or would she follow the suit of Parts One and Two, which filled one hundred pages full of words without anything of note actually taking place? How does she do it? Is this the Nora Roberts magic that has made her one of the most successful authors in the world?

Ian is the son of Caine and Diana. Caine is the son of Daniel Duncan 'The MacGregor' MacGregor and his wife, Anna 'His Wife' Whitfield. Diana, impossibly, is the sister of Justin Blade, who married Serena MacGregor, and are parents of Duncan 'The Blade' Blade, who met and married Cat 'Banshee' Farrell in Part Two. Caine and Diana have a daughter, Laura, who married Royce 'Big Shoes' Cameron. Laura, Caine and Ian work at the family law firm, helpfully named MacGregor & MacGregor. Taking centre stage during what should be the love story between Ian and Naomi 'Four Eyes' Brightstone is Julia Campbell Murdoch, brother of Daniel 'DC' Campbell from Part One and daughter of former President of the United States Alan 'Big Al' MacGregor and Shelby 'First Lady' Campbell. Julia and husband Cullum 'Waterboy' Murdoch have one child, Travis, but Julia is heavy with a second. Skilled with the same impeccable timing as her sibling, parents, grandparents and cousins, the baby makes a dash for the light slapbang in the middle of Ian's careful seduction of Naomi, throwing all manner of life lessons the way of the idiotic characters, who somehow achieve happiness despite Nora Roberts' complete inability to capture anything remotely realistic about human beings in her stories.

Shortly after their first locking of lips and souls, Ian casually invites Naomi to dinner at his house. While sexual conquest and conversations about libraries await, he first must deal with his favourite cousin's hunt for candy. The chocolate-loving tapeworm living inside Julia's womb has been affectionately nicknamed Butch, but will grow into adulthood with the similarly lesbian-inducing moniker of Fiona Joy. Soon enough Naomi arrives with her friendly mix of social anxiety and M&M's. Julia's hunger for sugar and keen eye for the shapely feminine form means the two girls strike up an immediate, and heavily erotic, friendship. Right on schedule Cullum arrives, Julia exits and Naomi and Ian are alone with wine, tomato sauce and their timeless beauty. Not wishing to waste time on pleasantries and coat-taking Ian closes his mouth over Naomi's, stifling a startled moan, and presses his manhood against her yearning stomach. Naomi is stunned, but moreover she develops a sensation unbeknownst to her. Is this the attraction and male erection she had until now only read about in books a smart girl such as her really shouldn't be bothering with?

Naomi then makes an admission that has ruined a perfectly good dinner on numerous occasions, she is inexperienced in the ways of carnal passion, her innocence and virginal looks more literal than Ian had expected. He is flabbergasted, but what kind of MacGregor would he be if he didn't know his way around a virgin, and what kind of disgrace would he bring on his family if he didn't choose a virgin as his bride? Nevertheless, Ian is a gentleman and a saint so he allows Naomi to leave the house with her purity in tact, having already stripped her of her dignity and any lingering notions of self-belief. For Naomi the mortifying embarrassment of her personal life is only a constant distraction from Brightstone's, the hippest, most swingingest joint in all of Boston. Despite such fantastical plot points as a successful bookstore, we quickly return to the burgeoning courtship as Ian tries a different approach, Platonic chivalry, but how long can this façade continue? After all, he loves her and she loves him, but can two people who love one another and have nothing stopping them from getting together find love and make a life together?

Sensing something of a narrative impasse Nora Roberts deploys as many MacGregor's as possible. First Naomi is invited to Girl Day, a day where grown women eat ice cream and brownies and then dish on boys and giggle to bad television they openly adore watching. Naomi has never acted with any degree of femininity before, but soon makes lifelong friends with Laura, Julia and everyone's favourite cousin, Gwen. She is a beautiful, intelligent and successful doctor, Duncan Blade's sister and wife of Branson Maguire, the handsome, smart and eminent author. Discussing Ian, Naomi reveals the dark secret that explains the medical condition plaguing the hero, what Gwen fails to technically define as epididymal hypertension. Laura shrieks with laughter at Naomi's revelation of her untouched status, though none of the girls are fit to judge. As characters in Nora Roberts novels they were all virgins before meeting their husbands. Having learnt the reasons why Ian has been keeping his distance and juddering with a contorted face every time she brushes against him Naomi rushes to him with only one thing on her mind. After the life-affirming and unprotected sex the new couple continue in their efforts until Naomi has become a worn-out, proverbial village bicycle, in a village where only Ian lives.

Thereafter Julia enters Brightstone's and promptly breaks water. Naomi takes panicked charge, organising the ambulance and then frantically pacing the hospital corridor while the extended MacGregor clan casually relax, make lucrative business deals and stare admiringly at mirrors. When Ian finally arrives she lambastes him for his aloof attitude, but as an outsider she is unaware that there are no complications or traumas in a MacGregor birth. Those babies walk out onto silk sheets with flawless bone structures and a trust fund. The celebrations are kept to a minimum as another favourite cousin is surely due any day as well, but the men swig scotch and smoke cigars while the women do womanly things, and everyone accepts Naomi into the family. All this happiness is too much for her, however, because Naomi is not the beautiful, confident business owner her physical appearance, personality and career make her out to be. Ashamed beyond sense, Naomi confesses the awful truth. She used to be fat, doesn't find herself sexually attractive and needs a self-made computer program to dress her in the mornings. As hard as she finds this to say it isn't even close to being as hard as it is for Ian to hear, or the reader to read. He duly frees her of her obligation to love him eternally, hoping that once she has lived for herself, and had several affairs with swarthy foreigners on motorcycles, she will return to him an assured young women who knows what she wants from life.

It takes a little over a chapter of mild abuse from The MacGregor and Caine to help Ian realise he is a sexist jerk who may claim to love Naomi, but can't claim to respect her or value her as a person. Still, the thought of six sexless months is too much to bear, and Ian sprints to Naomi's door, where they put the whole sorry episode behind them and get down to the important business of baby-making and wealth consolidation. There the story thankfully ends, with the slightest recognition of a man's doltish behaviour and a woman's blessed capacity for patience and forgiveness. In many ways this hints at completed and satisfying characters arcs, but any such assessment would be foolishly misguided. There is nothing within Part Three of The MacGregor Grooms to recommend it, despite Ian's brave attempt at appearing down-to-earth and Naomi's inability to notice her own comeliness. Even at their most neurotic and tentative the characters were absurd caricatures of idealised romantic creatures, and while it is impossible to question their motivations for wanting one another, the story proved unable to justify their actions. The necessary deviations from the central concept only confirmed how thin the story was, making the failure at credibility all the more galling. With a final word from his memoirs, The MacGregor acknowledges the passing of time, but even though his piss and vinegar have turned into an urinary infection and a drinking problem, he still carries the threat of spin-offs.

“Something passed between them that only women know”

To break up the arduous task of reading The MacGregor Grooms this very weblog has been working its way through Secrets Uncovered, the Mills & Boon how-to e-book. Nearing the end of what once seemed an inexhaustible pit of absurdity and education we finally covered the topic of laughter and whether emotionally galling romance fiction could also contain witticisms and handsome billionaires walking into things. After our brush with Liz Fielding and her unique brand of joke-free comedy there was one question every Bewildered Heart would have wanted to ask had they existed. What is this RIVA we keep pretending to hear about for the sake of an article? With such pressing concerns pending, a further exploration of the RIVA subgenre is called for, to allow for a complete comprehension of what one is or does, and why we, reluctant readers and aspiring authors, might choose to make this our category romance of choice.

For what we unrealistically hope for is more on the subject we turn to Mills & Boon itself, as their submission guideline web-page spells out the important technical information, such as word count, head office location and meaningless editor names, before opening their pitch with a failed attempt at an understandable sentence. 'Riva is a vibrant, exciting new stream of editorial for readers who enjoy authors such as Louise Bagshawe, Tasmina Perry, Marian Keyes.' None of those writers are published by the flowing body of liquid that is RIVA, and for those Bewildered Hearts happily ignorant of Bagshawe, Perry and Keyes' editorial a little additional clarification would be helpful. 'Upmarket, glossy and sharply contemporary, these stories sparkle with wit, humour, passion and emotion!' This is tremendous news for those readers tired of criss-crossing between two sources for their wit and humour needs. RIVA not only offers both, but mixes them with the two elements that everyone would expect from a romantic novel.

Apparently RIVA goes by the much more straight-forward name of Harlequin Presents® Extra & Harlequin® Romance. With that confusion out of the way readers can discover what to expect when opening the upmarket, glossy and potentially hazardous pages of one such book. Harlequin, we prefer our stories hot and steamy, do you have something for the sexual deviant within? 'If you like your stories hot & steamy then you’ll love the Rivas written by original, fresh authors such as Heidi Rice, Natalie Anderson, Kelly Hunter and Kimberly Lang, formerly published in Mills & Boon Modern Heat.' Of course, Bewildered Heart remembers a little something from our previous dealings with Modern Heat, a subgenre with a dark red cover that suggestively hinted at the heavy erotic content and dreary lack of story revealed on the pages of One Night with the Rebel Billionaire. Modern Heat was defined by the two words that made up its moniker. While there already existed a Modern subgenre, Modern Heat took all the topical issues plaguing attractive twenty-seven-year-old virgins with thriving careers, threw in the generic hero, and ramped up the sexual euphemisms from the embarrassing to the redundant.

'These entertaining romances reflect the life experiences of today’s young women, within a chic, glamorous, and usually urban setting. They offer international glamour, passion with a flirty young voice and a whole load of sass!' Indeed, these are novels for the many modern women who enjoy their jet-set experiences of global allure with a healthy dose of feisty sarcasm. Unfortunately these wealthy, fun-loving singletons can't seem to find a handsome, sensitive billionaire in their real lives and have nowhere else to turn but to the romance books they read aboard their private planes. Speaking of such people, 'The heroines are often your twenty-something girls-about-town but there's no compromising on the hero: he must be very alpha and absolutely to die for! There’ll be sparks flying when these two meet – and nothing short of fireworks once they get to the bedroom!' Say no more, Mills & Boon, the writing world is now all too aware that the women of today want their archetypal romances with plenty of flowery language depicting all three of the sexual acts.

While the guidelines stress the importance of retaining the desirable male stereotype they do seem willing to accommodate original subversions of their twenty-something urban professional heroines, allowing the novelist freedom to shake up the tired conventions of girls-about-town and explore the possibilities of ladies-around-the-city and women-of-the-night. Their main stipulation, however, pertains to her voice. She is confident, straight-talking and independent. She knows what she wants from her career and from her personal life, but she would be prepared to give all that up for a suitable husband. Before you begin scribbling or typing, gentle authors, Mills & Boon has more information to reveal about RIVA, and naturally this information contradicts everything that has gone before. Because Harlequin, we prefer our stories flirty and sweet, do you also have something for the easy-going prude within? 'If you like your stories flirty & sweet then you’ll love the Rivas written by flirty, young voices such as Liz Fielding, Jessica Hart, Nina Harrington and Fiona Harper, formerly published in Mills & Boon Romance.' Traditionally the Romance Romance subgenre was defined by its heartfelt love stories, revolving around single parents thinking first of their children and only then of their wanton carnal hunger. With the more adult themes of divorce, death and ageing kept to the Cherish imprint, RIVA aims itself at a more youthful demographic.

'These stories should reflect the experiences of today’s young women – whether it be dating disasters, juggling a work/life balance or overcoming a broken heart. Each story should have an emotional core with believable emotional conflicts but told in an upbeat, fun, contemporary way.' There are more suitable avenues for novels concerning sadness and credible sentimental resonance. In RIVA there must be a lightness of touch to the drama, where a fit of depression can be easily overcome by some flirting with the perfect man over a low calorie cupcake. Speaking of such men, 'The hero should be sexy, aspirational and the romantic tension should sizzle, but when it comes to the bedroom – the door should be firmly closed.' Yes, unlike RIVA, those purveyors of purple, pornographic prose, RIVA would ask their authors to restrict themselves to flirtatious kissing and upbeat dry-humping before coyly turning to describe the fireplace.

The key ingredients to writing the perfect romance for the RIVA imprint therefore focus on the skilled use of flirting, the creation of the archetypes that dominate the entire romance genre and telling stories that capture what it means to be young, feisty, twenty-seven years old, possibly a virgin, skilled at flirting and gallivanting through built up areas tackling work, love, feelings and fashion with a loving spoonful of sassiness. 'We are open to romantic comedies, first person narratives and interesting twists on classic romantic themes.' Mills & Boon always end on the illusion that they are intelligent editors on the look out for exciting new voices with ground-breaking ideas, but when it comes to RIVA there might be a little truth to this notion. After all, the chick-lit trend of a decade ago is dying a slow, albeit watchable, death. Here Harlequin has positioned itself at the centre of this shift in tastes, but unlike the global behemoths of Fifty Shades and Twilight the first person narrators of RIVA are not the simpering, naval-gazing excuses for women that have seen James and Meyer to obscene wealth. Instead they are the empowered, superficial excuses for women that have seen sales in chick-lit plummet.

“Some women would have enjoyed that flash-point kiss, indulged in others, then coolly left the man dangling"

During Bewildered Heart's travels through the morass of romantic fiction there have been the occasional oddities, ranging from the discovery of a NASCAR subgenre to learning how sadomasochism has become the new stiletto made of cupcakes. While it remains naïve to claim that there are no further surprises awaiting us there is a subject that continues to elude Mills & Boon, and that is comedy. While the publishers have released titles such as Cowboys are For Loving, Accidental Princess and The Midwife's Glass Slipper there are no signs that formulaic romance novels are anything more than unintentionally hilarious. This is a disappointing development, but the argument is passionately refuted by numerous romance writers who either can't take a joke or don't understand sarcasm. For additional insight we return to Secrets Uncovered where those lovable Mills & Boon editors have turned their fleeting attention to this pressing matter, searching through their stable of authors and finding Liz Fielding, romance fiction's funny one.

Fielding has so far committed over sixty novels to paper and technological devices. Now she has designs on presenting Mythbusters with their most tedious episode yet. 'My job is to bust the all pervading myth that humour and Mills & Boon are mutually exclusive. Incompatible.' Well, humour is subjective and the majority of romance books are laughable, so is there any reason to believe Harlequin is a publisher of nothing but dour, po-faced stories featuring serious characters having earnest conversations and no talking animals? How to raise a smile, or even a gentle chuckle then, without resorting to predictable tactics such as jokes and slapstick? 'I don’t write jokes and I don’t do slapstick, but humour is part of our everyday lives and I want it to be part of my characters’ lives, too. There is nothing sexier than a man with a sense of humour. Nothing more charming than a girl who knows how to laugh at herself.' Even the most cursory glance at the genre suggests that while a sense of humour is sexually desirable it does not come close to comparing to physical beauty, money or personal hygiene, as Mills & Boon titles, as well as Mills & Boon writers, have testified to. A well-groomed, handsome billionaire trumps a balding, flabby wit every time. Sorry, balding, flabby wits. At least you still have the internet.

Liz Fielding writes for RIVA, which is possibly an acronym. She discredits herself as both a writer and a contributor to a writing guide with a bullet-pointed list that seems either wildly inaccurate or scarily simplistic. 'I want (the characters) to be able to laugh even when they’re crying, because that’s what real people do. Humour in romance is an extra layer that can lift a dark moment, give depth to a scene.
• You have what is being said – funny.
• What is being felt – emotional.'
Perhaps this is not a general rule for aspiring authors everywhere, but rather a deeply misguided attempt to define the meanings of words. Emotions are certainly feelings, but surely the art of writing is more complicated than characters making puns while slowly dying inside. Hopefully Liz will follow her list with a beneficial explanation. 'That’s what humour will bring to your stories. The potent mix of laughter and tears that we’re all familiar with.' Precisely, when people aren't sobbing uncontrollably they are giggling breathlessly, and this is what Liz Fielding aspires towards, a combination of soppy emotional manipulation and observational witticisms, reducing her reader to one of two extreme reactions that make it impossible to read.

Now that humour has been clearly defined the next stage of the lesson concerns how to lace it into your heartfelt novel about a billionaire European Prince working as a bellhop and falling in love with a chambermaid who has forgotten what feelings feel like. 'What makes us laugh and cry is who we are, and can never be forced. It only works as part of our unconscious writing voice, something that comes naturally.' Despite this advice being entirely useless, and tricky to read, it does recall a recurring theme of Secrets Uncovered that establishes the importance of a strong, unaffected author's voice. Once the potential writer approaches their work honestly, with enthusiasm and a passion for the genre their personality should shine through, enlivening their prose with humour and sincerity. If this fails to happen then the writer should take solace in the knowledge that they are too good for romance fiction and can return to their families, friends and a life of productive duties. However, if the writer insists on persevering then Fielding has a few ideas for zany situations liberally stolen from classic screwball comedies of the 1940s.

'For example:
• The hero who pretends to be cooking a fabulous meal for a glamorous blonde – but with a cook hiding out in the kitchen doing all the work.
• The heroine who, while working as a cleaner, is writing a diary column for “Milady” magazine as Lady Gabriella March. The heroine who opens the door in her scrubbing the floor clothes to be confronted by the hero – and casually tosses her rubber gloves over her shoulder in an attempt to look a little less of a fright.'

Someone should check through the bibliography of Liz Fielding for novels eerily similar to Christmas in Connecticut. There has always been something suspicious about Kwanzaa in Kansas, but it seemed inappropriate to single that one out. At this point Liz Fielding moves on, satisfied she has dealt with the topic of comedy, yet knowing no discussion of humour and emotion would be complete without talk of what an emotion is. 'As human beings, we’re bombarded with emotions. They are the most simple and complex of feelings.' Before Liz gets too technical this is a suitable point to ignore her lengthy descriptions of different emotions and how those emotions make people feel and how those people then react to the feelings brought about by the emotions. Instead a few paragraphs down Fielding ruminates on how to use this innate human skill-set to make your reader react with either a laugh from the mouth or the secretion of clear salty fluid from the glands of their eye. 'Romantic fiction is character led and what brings readers back to our books time and time again is the emotion and the laughter generated by the conflicts, problems, heartaches that we toss in their path like so many hand grenades.'

There is no obstacle quite like a high number of hand grenades, but unless your heroine has fallen for an attractive, yet clumsy, hand grenade salesman the hand grenades must be metaphorical, and instead represented by internal conflicts such as surprise pregnancies, hidden identities, lack of sexual experience, lycanthropy, thinly-veiled misogyny, father issues or the classic, reliable conflict of realistically reacting to being seduced by an enigmatic, gorgeous billionaire with a self-depreciating sense of humour. 'Our reader wants to experience what the heroine is feeling. The excitement, the raised heart rate, the pounding pulse. An attraction that is all the more exciting, compelling, because she believes that it must be resisted.' These are the narrative issues every author must resolve before writing, although most resort to contrivances and word-wasting in lieu of rationality and plot twists. When this article began we were promised an examination of how to interlace humour into our profound love story. Instead Liz Fielding has offered us unhelpful clichés, a list of emotions and the vaguest notion of what makes a good romance novel without any indication of how to under-take the task, which in itself turns out to be the perfect example of how to write successfully for Mills & Boon.