“Feeling like a voyeur, he drank in every detail of her private quarters”

In a world built on rationality and sturdy logic there are few questions more beguiling and worthy of journalism as why a new generation of women are reading bonkbusters. Before we answer a conundrum that has been plaguing no one for as long as no one can remember we should begin with a handful of other, perhaps more pertinent, queries, including what are bonkbusters, are a younger generation actually reading them and how can aspiring authors with an eye for a Zeitgeist cash in on this trend before everyone else notices? Thankfully for all concerned the Daily Telegraph's own Louisa Peacock has us covered, as she uses the release of one book to examine a cultural phenomenon that may not exist. Why does this serve as an excuse for a Bewildered Heart post, besides to obvious need to post anything? It is because the author in question, Victoria Fox, is a rare breed of Mills & Boon employee, having broken out of her publisher's homogeneity, through the Mira imprint, to become a household name, depending on the popularity of saucy romantic fiction in that particular household.

British broadcaster Sue Limb may have invented the etymologically-inaccurate term, Bonkbuster in 1989, although sources vary. The neologism has been defined as, 'a type of popular novel characterised by frequent explicit sexual encounters,' but such fiction has been available and successful for decades. Recently, however, publishers have attempted to reach a more youthful demographic, in a bid to escape the genre's stereotypical bored housewife caricature and the negative connotations this produces. Harlequin's desire to subvert conventional opinions of its brand has seen the company embrace the technological advances of digital formats, but this would never have been enough without a change in content. For a publishing house with a series named Modern Mills & Boon has always had to fight against accusations of unfashionable conservatism, as well as more troubling associations with misogyny and the glorification of rape and violence against women. However, these are lazy criticisms given the time that has passed and all the new glaring flaws that continue to undermine the genre.

The surest way to appeal to the twenty-something market is through contracting twenty-something authors to tell the stories they would want to hear. Victoria Fox published her third novel this year at the tender age of twenty-nine. Her career has gained momentum following the success of 2012's Temptation Island, the story of actresses, models and teenage tearaways at a secret holiday destination for the world’s sexiest elite. Like her forerunners, Shirley Conran, Jackie Collins and Judith Krantz to name but three, Fox aspires to write female characters living in a man's world but finding ways to triumph without ever threatening the social status quo. She has found a formula that works, loosely basing each of her books on real-life celebrities, tapping into her generation's predilection for gossip, sex and larger-than-life dramas. Fox's tendency to write sex scenes from the male point of view saw early novels rejected, but she has remained largely committed to playing with such expectations. 'I don't see why it should have to be the model we've got at the moment,' she explains in regards to the erotic content of her novels, but this could apply equally to all the areas of romance fiction she is seeking to update. Victoria Fox is just one of a fresh crop of authors and readers hoping to erode the stylistic and narrative trappings that have held Harlequin back for so long.

For Fox the obvious challenge of working for Mills & Boon involved updating the tropes of the bonkbuster for the lives of modern women. 'I needed to have an alpha male, but I didn't want this alpha-ness to be defined by the fact he was subjugating a woman.' In order to retain the raw sexual appeal of a handsome, yet arrogant, hero and keeping him seductively masculine while dropping the female persecution, Fox has endeavoured to surround her lead couple with secondary characters, presumably much to the disapproval of Secrets Uncovered, her editor, employers and fans. Despite their possible protestations doing this has allowed Fox to portray her hero as a dominant, rugged force by populating the protagonist's world with balding failures and receding chauvinists. Without the heroine to playfully oppress he has to make do with everyone else, but by doing this Fox hasn't so much subverted the rules as done away with them entirely. Has Mira broken with tradition because the standard Mills & Boon format is not conducive to quality story-telling and current gender roles, or has the publisher discovered a niche in the genre with new and innovative ways in which to handle fictional romance incompetently? Awards and success are proof of little, yet Fox has won acclaim for her novels, suggesting her publisher is moving in an improved direction, following years lost in a country estate built on repression all the while running in circles, tripping over shoelaces and knocking into furniture.

Although the title of Peacock's article implied big questions would be dealt with, her interview with Fox amounts to a superficial conversation with an author on a book tour. Mills & Boon's move into the failed subgenre of Chick-Lit has been long and well-documented. The bonkbuster term should only be attached to the likes of Fifty Shades of Grey and Platinum by Jo Rees, the break out successes that find cultural cache beyond their intended market. Why are a new generation of women drawn to bonkbusters, asked the Daily Telegraph's Louisa Peacock, before failing to then ask the one woman who might know. Fox at least understands why she writes them and has an idea about who her fans are. 'I'd say my average reader is of a similar age to me, someone in their twenties, interested in celebrity culture and who wants an entertaining beach read.' Despite there being fewer young people able to afford a holiday on real sand nothing has changed in regards to undemanding paperbacks and Mira shows its parent company’s keen business acumen rather than any motivation to regenerate its image with novels exciting, shocking, juicy and politically-correct.

“Most women would trade their soul for the chance to don a title and the crown jewels”

What with all that has been happening these last jam-packed months Bewildered Heart almost forgot there was the second in a Special Moments Two-in-One to read. After the misanthropic joy of Once Upon a Wedding what would its complimentary companion offer to counter-balance the romance, comedy, self-employment and bourgeois-bashing of Stacy Connelly's modern fairytale? Would there be dark dramas and the glorification of consumerism, or would Nancy Robards Thompson fail to subvert convention with a contrived tale of secret identities to the backdrop of resplendent luxury? With a title such as Accidental Princess that is anybody's guess, but now, with the initial three chapters stared at and understood, Bewildered Heart can ascertain in which direction the life of one struggling single mother is headed. Why are there are so many accidental princesses wandering the world of romance fiction nowadays? Is it because there are so many intentional princes without brides?

Where more suitable to learn such answers to such questions than with the potted history of a fictional royal family from a fictional island that kind of exists. In the world of Thompson's cursory research St. Michel is an independent Mediterranean island overseen by the powerful, albeit fictional, King Bertrand. Decades ago his eldest daughter had fallen for the glamorous, albeit fictional, rock star Nick Morrison. Facing scandal Bertrand had forced Princess Sylvie to give birth to her baby in a fictional country not dissimilar to France named France, before sending the child away to the United States to grow up in obscurity. Shortly thereafter, Sylvie and Nick had attempted a family reconciliation only to perish in a plane crash. Later Princess Celine died in a road accident and her brother, Prince Thibault, lost his life in a diving disaster further hence. Now, in whichever fictional year the novel takes place in, Prince Antoine, wife Leanna, children and assorted guards have met their fates in a tragic fire. For the somehow still employed head of security Luc Lejardin either the House of Founteneau is cursed or an ageing procrastinator has been murdering the King's offspring until none remained.

Meanwhile, in a small town in North Carolina Sophie Baldwin has taken her office's Dress Down Friday to heart by going to work as a jar of mustard. What with her costume and irritable daughter Savannah to worry about it is no surprise Sophie turns up twenty minutes late for her Social Services desk job. While her completely reasonable boss takes these numerous breaches of contract with patient good humour Sophie is stunned by the bitchiness of her superior. After suggesting a subplot involving Laura Hastings that may well be forgotten about Sophie is called home by her frantic daughter with news of a French invasion. When she arrives she discovers a very handsome foreigner on her doorstep, the spitting image, in fact, of actor Oliver Martinez, because Thompson finds describing things tiresome. There Sophie hears the news that every women longs to hear, that she is the secret love child of an European royal dynasty and must be whisked away to a life of idle indulgence, castles, sea, sun and serfs.

Sensing what sounds like an elaborate and breathlessly well-executed confidence trick Sophie dismisses her so-called parents and the suited bodyguards to panic over finding her fourteen year-old daughter in bed with a tattooed ruffian nicknamed Tick. With problems piling up and only one possible way to solve her every problem in a matter of seconds, Sophie finds the time to ponder how her life became so complicated. As with the majority of divorced single parents, Her Highness was once married and without child. Once Savannah was born the marriage grew apart and one day Frank left for the sunny climes of California and the sun-kissed charms of teenage girls. This may have been the point where Sophie's self-esteem plummeted and she began to closely resemble store-brand condiments. Nevertheless, as infamous ladies man and observant noticer of things Luc Lejardin notices observantly, Sophie Baldwin remains a luminously attractive women with a quite splendid chin. How or why this is possible due to the ravages of time, stress and seasoning, however, is kept mysterious, due to Thompson's insistence that writing about stuff distracts from endless recalling of back-story.

Forward momentum is threatened when Sophie refuses to drop her responsibilities and abscond to an island that her education tells her does not exist. This rejection of regal duties forces King Bertrand himself to fly all the way from nowhere to a private airport near Washington D.C. in a desperate bid to keep the world's media from questioning his unexpected visit. Somewhat presumptuously this is where Chapter Three concludes, leaving the reader with the barest understanding of character motivations and story development and only the slightest inclination to begin Chapter Four. As contemporary twists on classic fairytale tropes go, Accidental Princess is certainly an improvement on the faux-Cinderella generics of Once Upon a Wedding. Sophie Baldwin is portrayed as an unlikely woman for picturebook romance, having been cast aside by one husband, dismissed by her daughter, criticised at work and constantly mocked by herself as a frumpy, pale imitation of her youthful loveliness. Only an idealised Gallic Adonis seems to have the ability to see through all visible evidence to the sexually alluring creature lurking beneath.

There are a handful of minor obstacles for the couple to overcome before they can rule a fictional country, however, yet most of these troubles can be fixed through vocabulary-updating. Savannah's ungrateful attitude and worrying misstep of scantily-clad bed-sharing were resolved during a mother daughter heart-to-heart discussion Thompson decided against writing. Still, any additional fears of Savannah and Tick's blossoming romance can be handled by a stepdad well-versed in gunplay and martial arts. The overwhelming concern, at least for Luc, is his own family's reputation, destroyed by his late father's scheming second wife. How could a man tasked with protecting a family, now mostly dead, who bears the disgraced and hard to pronounce Lejardin name marry into the House of Founteneau? Naturally, this conundrum can be solved by all parties acting reasonably, but in the land of Mills & Boon it usually requires two hundred pages of shoe-shuffling and sex before this decision is reached. Most importantly, of course, there is the small matter of a serial killer on the loose, who takes up to ten years to meticulously orchestrate fatal mishaps? In eight years time might Sophie and Savannah board a train, switch on a kettle or light a cigarette in a seemingly well-ventilated room and could Luc forgive himself for their untimely demises as easily as he shrugged off the others?

Much will depend on how Thompson wishes to play with the tropes of the genre. The damsel-in-distress and protector romance is something of a worn-out archetype, and the predictable introduction of single parent with troubled child expected of Special Moments does little to reinvigorate the formula. There are possibilities for originality, not least Sophie's commitment to her country, work and family, and thus a rejection of patriarchal pressure to submit to the princess fantasy. Do the glimpses of Mary Matthews, Mr. Carlo and Laura suggest an alternative direction for the novel? Will Luc prove a true twenty-first century hero by staying in North Carolina and fighting for the woman he loves on her terms? This is plausible, but highly unlikely for a book entitled Accidental Princess, just as it appeared improbable that Once Upon a Wedding would end with Kelsey prioritising her business over a dreamy man wearing jeans. No doubt circumstance and luck will allow Sophie to achieve all of her most fantastical dreams without sacrifice, as all heroines should, thus fulfilling the publisher's mantra that what makes Mills & Boon successful is what makes story-telling amateurish.