“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.