“I flush, and somewhere deep, deep down my muscles clench deliciously”

During these long, uncomfortable months spent searching Fifty Shades of Grey for quotes to take out of context, Bewildered Heart neglected its trusted source of nonsensical utterances, the how-to essays from Romance HQ. There remains something of a taboo to consider and that is taboos. Over at Romance is Not Dead Elise Windmill has shed light on Mills & Boon's attitude towards the topics no one dare discuss in an article entitled Sailing Close to the Wind and Pulling It Off. To extrapolate this sentence sailing would be writing while the wind would be contentiousness. The boat would therefore be you, gentle writer, or your novel. Without wind the boat would remain floating on the water, which may prove ideal for fishing, but this sailing expedition is not interesting in fish, but rather reaching land, with the land representing publishing success. Yet what if the boat is motorised with the motor perhaps symbolising talent, making the need for wind and sails largely irrelevant? Can the motor combine with the weather for greater speed, bringing you to your destination even more quickly? What if you want to sail into the wind and the motorised propellers are not powerful enough for forward momentum? Can you use an oar of convincing dialogue without the need of the life-jacket of conformity?

For an article asking so many profound questions let us waste no more time on analysis. Harlequin Romances are not renowned for their challenging material, causing offence or choosing realism, and this has tended to send a message that there are boundaries in Mills & Boon, but is this accurate? 'Let’s set the message straight, once and for all: there are no boundaries in Mills & Boon!' That certainly sounds unequivocal, but is this accurate? 'Having said that, there are some themes that will inevitably provoke strong reactions in readers.' Yet isn't that a great thing? 'This can be a great thing – everyone loves a bit of controversy!' Indeed, the indisputably positive reaction is what always makes controversy so controversial. Still, there's no sense engendering hand-wringing and forehead-furrowing without having an actual objective. 'The aim of the game is to explore a conflict/theme/issue in a thought-provoking, ultimately uplifting, way that adds unique depth to your romance.'

Therefore the rhetoric remains consistent with everything Romance HQ has taught us over the years, as long as a story is handled with credibility and tact any amount of violent crime, war, bestiality, poverty and suffering is fine and dandy. Windmill has her own ethical concerns though, 'Issues like infidelity/abortion/euthanasia (to select just a few at random from my ‘moral dilemma’ scrapbook…!) can be notoriously difficult to motivate sympathetically and/or weave into a compelling romance.' Yet why have a 'Moral Dilemma' Scrapbook unless you plan on shoehorning some into your next potential manuscript? Naturally, for a publisher proffering fairytale aspirations to a readership seeking escapism there seems little point in delving into the dark territory Windmill mentions, unless those issues are handled expertly, in which case your novel will not only be deeply insensitive, but also beautifully crafted.

It hardly needs spelling out again, but that's never stopped Mills & Boon before. 'As ever, the advice here is simple – for readers to get on board with behaviour they might disapprove of, the characters’ reasoning needs to be watertight and empathetic.' Character motivation should always make sense, but when dealing with infidelity or murder it's probably especially important. Once you've added depth and conviction to your protagonists, while maintaining the hero's brooding, enigmatic intensity, how do you have them survive as a couple and make it to a kiss and declaration of eternal devotion against a backdrop of expensive exoticism considering the cheating, foetal-termination and fatal drugging of the elderly that occurred during their courtship? 'Obviously the hero and heroine need to have a happy ending – in the wonderful world of category romance, this goes without saying.' Hmm, or so you'd think. Still, sometimes it is worth saying something that doesn't need to be said if for no other reason than saying something, and with that Elise Windmill assumes she has solved the problem and can move on.

However, the more keen-eyed observers will have noticed that Romance HQ solved nothing, but those keen-eyed observers should not fret, because there is no difficulty an author can face that can't be fixed with the sudden appearance of a supporting character. 'It doesn’t necessarily follow that all secondary characters need a HEA – sometimes, a tragic subplot adds complexity and raw power that throws the happy ending into even more bright relief.' Precisely, once you have introduced a best friend, patient, colleague, client or parent the reader will have no qualms about the fate that befalls them, allowing you to indulge your peculiar desire to kill someone off, visit a clinic or destitute a single parent. As Bewildered Heart has noted in novels such as Under the Millionaire's Influence and The Domino Effect once the central couple are married and pregnant no one seems to care what happens to anyone else, safe in the knowledge that love always finds a way to redeem those who matter.

Nevertheless, 'Don’t shy away from exploring the darker side of life in your romances. What’s important to remember is that the lower the lows, the higher those highs need to be. If you’re going to make your readers cry with sadness, the joy pay-off needs to be H-U-G-E!' That spells huge, and what's more joyful than a huge pay-off? The happiest endings are born from the lowliest of beginnings. Readers want their heroines to deserve the handsome billionaire they inevitably end up with having suffered for him physically, emotionally and however else. Jane Eyre has a nightmarish struggle before the empty shell of Mr. Rochester is her own, and Cathy Earnshaw takes things a step further and dies in agony before she and Heathcliff are able to settle down. Death brings us on nicely to Windmill's next insight. 'There’s also the grey area of ‘temporary’ happy endings – for example, if your hero or heroine is terminally ill and their happy ending is for the next twenty years rather than for life.' That's quite an optimistic forecast for a terminal illness and yet a slightly confused understanding of how life typically ends.

Next up is the latest trend in romance writing, what Windmill describes as the Modern Two-Part Epic, which is a fancy way to pretend that a sequel was always intended. This very weblog has been calling for follow-ups and novels that explore, 'What happens after the couple is married / confessed their love etc.' As the article continues Romance HQ notes how this very idea is fundamentally at odds with the tropes of the genre, and it is debatable whether anyone would want to read a story about married life and realistic representations of relationships. Therefore, much like Windmill we should forget this notion was ever brought up and move onto hardcore pornography. 'Whilst all Mills & Boon books can be categorised as female fantasy fiction to some extent, to our minds even our sexiest fiction falls in the ‘highly sensual’ camp rather than the ‘erotica’ camp because the main purpose is to entertain, not (gulp) arouse.' Heh, gulp. In as much seriousness as possible, though, it is noteworthy that Mills & Boon has admitted its product is supposed to be enjoyable, albeit not for the obvious reasons.

The point is, 'This doesn’t mean we’re not open to more explicit exploration of women’s sexual fantasies. Targeting your series is crucial here, but don’t be afraid to let your imagination run wild. We’ve already successfully embraced spanking, light bondage and the complete opposite, male impotence.' Whether or not you're doubtful about the validity of that last statement it seems safe to assume that male impotence was cured by a good woman's love. Nevertheless, dealing with all manner of issues on the spectrum of sexuality the advice is the same for every other supposedly unsuitable theme or plot point, 'As long as it’s in keeping with your characters, emotionally motivated and not introduced for mere kinky thrills, don’t be shy about giving that sizzle some oomph!' Why someone would introduce spanking or male impotence into their sex life for any reason other than kinky thrills is not explained. Nevertheless, any brave author that does sail close to that proverbial wind and still finds the audacity to pull it off surely deserves more than an unsubstantiated referential aside on a blog no one studies too closely.

"Now I feel like a receptacle - an empty vessel to be filled at his whim"

Just as filmmakers and movie stars have the Oscars, musicians have the Grammys and Bewildered Hearts have nothing, romance novelists have the Romantic Novel of the Year Awards, or RONAs to give them a hip acronym. Much like publishers, bloggers and members of the public the Romantic Novelists' Association separate the genre into five categories, covering every style in which people show affection. There's Contemporary, for the fashionable, Historical, for the old-fashioned, Young Adult, for the young adults, Comedy, for those with a sense of humour and Epic, for those with time on their hands. Somewhat foolishly, the victorious books were announced on the 26th of February, presumably in the belief that no other ceremonies were taking place that week. Those five winners will now contest for Romantic Novel of the Year, to be announced in May. Much like publishers, bloggers and members of the public the RNA chooses to ostracise the work of Mills & Boon, creating the RONA Rose for, 'Category or series and shorter romance - novels that focus on the developing love affair between the hero and heroine.' Unfortunately none of books deemed eligible for this award are considered for the main prize, but previous winners include such Bewildered Heart keywords as Kate Hardy and Liz Fielding. From this year's selection there are luminaries such as Fiona Harper, two nominations for Scarlet Wilson and titles that play upon the distinctive Mills & Boon custom of mixing gimmick with spoiler.

The six nominees were made of a cross-section of Harlequin's subgenres, although NASCAR yet again failed to make the grade, much like it has as a sport. There were two Historicals, two Rivas and two Medicals, covering every degree of loving from the nostalgic through to whatever Riva is. It is there we begin, with Harper's Always the Best Man. 'Standing at the altar, Damien's breathless as the woman he loves walks towards him - to marry another man.' Uh oh, Damien. Yet he needn't worry, because just like a real life wedding there is always a bridesmaid when all else has failed. Yet Damien can't stand Zoe and Zoe can't stand Damien. She is too vibrant, sexy and exciting for him and he is too handsome, intelligent and honorable for her, but somehow, through the author's sheer force of will, opposites attract, kiss, have numerous bouts of sex and then find love, allowing hero to overcome his inner conflict of being in love with someone else and heroine to overcome her inner conflict of being single and childless. Heidi Rice's The Good, the Bad and the Wild begins implausibly with a famous, sexy, bad-boy scriptwriter, suggesting the Romance genre has finally run out of believable occupations for its heroes. The heroine, Eva, is a timid, yet pretty, genealogy investigator and virgin, who has arrived in San Francisco to tell Nicolo Delisantro that his grandfather is an Italian Duke. Soon a hedonistic and poorly-motivated love affair begins, throwing few obstacles in the way of the characters and ending with everyone even more wealthy, happy and married than they were to begin with.

The two Medical(Tm) offerings are from Scarlet Wilson and both feature female nurses and male doctors finding affection at national landmarks and during obvious holidays. West Wing to Maternity Wing has for its hero yet another world-renowned neonatologist. However, this neonatologist is no ordinary neonatologist (Like the majority of neonatologists), the suitably-monikered Lincoln Adams is the White House neonatologist, but that doesn't seem to have much bearing on the plot. Six years ago, while aboard an aid boat on the Amazon River, Lincoln met Amy Carson and together they shared one glorious summer of hand-holding and wound-treating. Now Amy has returned, pregnant and in need of a trusted friend. Is the baby Lincoln's and how do two medical professionals explain the six year gestation period? Will the love they shared be rekindled? Will the President make a cameo appearance, perhaps to shout, 'Good for you, Doc,' down the Oval Office corridor and into the Rose Garden, where Lincoln gazes longingly into Amy's eyes to tell her he doesn't care who the father is, they're a family no matter what? Will breast cancer be clumsily worked into the narrative for reasons that aren't entirely obvious? If Amy can entrust Linc with her baby will she entrust him with her heart? For answers to all these questions, and possibly more, you would have to read the book.

Wilson's other novel, Her Christmas Eve Diamond, tackles every hospital worker's favourite time of year, late December. 'Nurse Cassidy Rae is a stickler for rules, but even she revels in the magic of Christmas, unlike new registrar Brad Donovan, who hates Christmas. With his surfer-boy looks and cocky charm, he's severely testing Cassidy's goodwill to all men.' Uh oh, Nurse Cassidy Rae, there's nothing sexier than a misbehaving official keeper of records, but how could you spend a life celebrating by-the-book festivities with someone incapable of joy? Brad Anderson has swapped Australia for Scotland to forget his tragic back-story, only to meet the Head Nurse who inspires him to smile once again, while wearing an embarrassing jumper. In turn, perhaps Brad teaches Cassidy to relax and take a more freewheeling approach to running a hospital. The final nominee is the first Harlequin Historical to make the grade, albeit only for its title. Betrothed to the Barbarian is a Carol Townend tale of sacrifice, secrecy and regal responsibility that does not use barbarian as literally as Bewildered Heart had hoped, which is a shame considering the TLC reality show of the same name. Despite her reservations the heroine is forced into a demanding proposition, she must marry a man she loves and wants to marry. Princess Theodora of Constantinople is duty-bound to wed Duke Nikolaos on the orders of the Emperor, but as much as she would like to, she harbours a dark secret. Yes, she is the titular barbarian, having spent ten years in exile where she gave birth to a child. Will her disgrace destroy her future, or will it turn out that through some incredible contrivance the Duke also used to be a barbarian and is, in fact, the father?

Having read the blurbs of the novels that failed to take home the coveted prize, what about the winning book itself? What could have possibly beaten out such eminently readable love stories as those previously discussed? As it turned out Britain's most beloved married couple, Richard and Judy, presented the award to Sarah Mallory for Beneath the Major's Scars, making Mallory a consecutive winner, having triumphed last year with The Dangerous Lord Carrington. Her latest book tells the story of Zelah Pentewan, a spirited heroine with a tragic past who meets and falls for a secretive hero with a tragic past. Fleeing from scandal, having been seduced by a married man and losing her baby during childbirth, she takes a job as a librarian for the enigmatic and facially-scarred Major Dominic Coale. Slowly she warms his cold heart as he persuades her to have a second shot at vulnerability. What follows sounds suspiciously like Beauty and the Beast, sprinkled with the usual Mills & Boon touches, but the powerful conclusion does indeed reveal that beneath the Major's scars there lies a Major, and there are a handful of subplots if this resolution fails to completely satisfy. Without having read the novel, Mallory's effort appears to be a worthy victor, despite negative reviews and unremarkable plotting. What do these five books tell us about the fortunes of Mills & Boon and reader preferences? To answer that question with, 'Very little,' would suggest there was something to learn from all this and therefore the answer, 'Very little,' is misleading.