"Something inside the princesse changed after giving birth"

To help prepare aspiring authors submit to So You Think You Can Write, Harlequin editors have explained how to construct the perfect novel. While this may have been redundant after the publication of Secrets Uncovered there was much that the how-to bible failed to advise on. Equally important, of course, was judging by the first chapters entered into this year's competition, no one has really learned anything despite the many lessons. For this reason, Associate Editor Rachel Burkot has written, Good Pacing: Better Than a Solid Pair of Spanx. Pacing is so important to quality writing that Mills & Boon rarely mentions it or shows much evidence that they know what the word means. Fortunately, Burkot is here to help with a series of obvious statements entirely unrelated to the topic of pacing.

What is pacing, Burkot asks. Where better to begin than with the pacing found in an instruction manual for building a shed? 'Steps have to be listed in the correct order, otherwise the pacing will be off, and you'll never get your product put together.' This is correct, albeit irrelevant. Without a floor and walls a roof will simply fall to the ground, and will not even be considered a roof. In terms of romantic fiction, the sequence of events must be ordered to best maximise emotional resonance. Traditional romance fiction prefers linear narratives with a couple of sex scenes to pad out the second act and love neither realised nor declared until the final pages often after a misunderstanding or disagreement that separates the pair for long enough for them to see that life without the other is not worth living. This is the classic formula no one wishes to experiment with, and while pertinent to writing for Mills & Boon does not explain pacing. Still, the article has more comparisons. There is an email to an old friend, cement between floors of a house, dental work and Spanx. All either require pacing or are pacing.

Yet, just what is pacing? According to Burkot, pacing romance is especially difficult because the process of courtship is, 'Less transparent, more on-the-page than in other genres, since the characters are meeting, going on dates and falling in love.' While the pacing of much fiction and non-fiction has its pacing off-on-page, Romance paces its stories with words and those words are always within the book, often printed as part of sentences. There is nowhere to hide in Romance and a lack of pacing will reveal itself by every letter appearing together as one large incomprehensible black smudge. Burkot elaborates, 'You can't have characters declare their love on the first date and get engaged on the second. That’s just not reasonable or relatable! Furthermore, the book would end at the second date.' Thus, delaying the inevitable must be what Mills & Boon thinks pacing is.

When it comes to avoiding the trappings of poor pacing Burkot has two issues. She does not want to see hero and heroine fall in love too soon and she does not want stories without conflict. 'If it’s obvious only one-quarter in that the characters are ga-ga for each other and neither hell nor high waters will keep them apart, where’s the hook to keep reading?' she asks. Secrets Uncovered delved deeply into defining conflict as the things that stop the couple from being together. Burkot explains them incorrectly as, 'Plot-wise (externally) and within themselves (internally).' Proper pacing, therefore, must be observed in both the storyline and the emotional dilly-dallying that is also the storyline. Pacing can be found within conflict, but conflict is not pacing. Nevertheless, when writing an essay on the importance of pacing without fully comprehending what pacing is, it seems sensible to stress the importance of things that you do comprehend, just as long as this advice is properly paced.

What are the benefits of including pacing in a story? For starters, there is the illusion of unpredictability. 'If you can make a reader forget that she already knows the ending of a romance for just a split second, you’ve done a fabulous job with pacing!' But what is pacing? With this sentence concluding the article it seems safe to assume that Rachel Burkot does not know either. Nevertheless, there is one valuable lesson that can be learned from favourably comparing speed and rhythm to an American hosiery company. If a romance novel is good it has either been properly placed or has an abundance of pacing. If, however, a romance novel is bad its failure may be the result of either improper pacing or no pacing whatsoever. When pacing a blogpost on the topic of pacing, a Bewildered Heart must include epiphanies at around this point to provide the piece with a reason for existing. Most readers will have skipped down to the final paragraph anyhow, safe in the knowledge that everything up until that point was filler broken up with crude innuendo.

To better understand what is clearly a misunderstood subject, we turn to Writer's Digest and an article by Jessica Page Morrell from Crafting Novels & Short Stories. She begins by asking, 'What is Pacing in Fiction?' Good question. 'Pacing is part structural choices and part word choices, and uses a variety of devices to control how fast the story unfolds.' These choices include sentence length and the use of verbs. Pace can be quickened and slowed by a variety of methods, depending on the nature of the scene. The difficulties for Romance authors stem from their preference towards a leisurely flow to the drama with plenty of stops for emotional gestation, handsomeness-noticing, skin-tingling and neuroses-having. Action scenes are rare and when they do occur they are often interrupted by lengthy summaries of what the reader already knows. Heroes and heroines are afflicted by internal conflicts created in their pasts, and this curtails narrative momentum. Writer's Digest offers an insight into action, suspense and excitement, but these words are rarely used to describe the Romance genre.

Nevertheless, what would be so bad about inventing a new form of modern romantic fiction employing some of the suggestions made by Writer's Digest? Readers would be swept along, not by wondering why the world's sexiest and most sensitive billionaire is still single, but by an author skilled at story-telling. Of Morrell's seven tips the most significant is action. 'Action scenes are where you “show” what happens in a story, and contain few distractions, little description and limited transitions.' Were Romance novels to have plot development this insight would be invaluable. The traditional Harlequin output struggles with pacing due to deeper, inherent difficulties with structure and story. A gentle pace is used to mask what is lacking. Once an aspiring author has mastered the basics they can begin to consider technical adjustments, and thus we await Rachel Burkot's next article, which will hopefully explain what the basics are.

"When her boss said Leonardo Valente was untouchable, she had accepted the challenge with enthusiasm"

The twenty-five finalists of the first final section have been clipped down to the ten finalists that make up the penultimate final section. Bewildered Heart has barely had time to gloss over the first chapters, and now the public has been tasked with reading ten complete manuscripts in a week before the next deadline. Of those previously mentioned and immediately rejected, three women-in-peril have made the most recent cut. They are Fire and Iron, Violation of Innocence and Wanting the Detective. The other seven include the Christmas-themed (Eep!) Kimani Mistletoe Mischief, the crowd-pleasing American Love For Sale and the hard-to-believe-it-is-not-already-a-Harlequin Resisting the Sicilian Playboy. Either making up the numbers or likely to win are Belfast Belle by Karin Baine, Paradise Found by Katie Meyer and T.R. McClure's A Perfect Match. You may remember T.R. McClure from such romance novels as Never Too Late and A Silver Lining.

Each of the ten finalists belong to separate imprints, which is presumably a coincidence, and although the differences between subgenres are negilible at best, some of the novels have been written for genuine niche markets. Medical™, for example, is a far cry from the likes of Modern. In the latter, the heroines have careers through which they meet handsome, wealthy tycoons, CEOs and, on occasion, pirates. Medical Romances make their heroine's careers related to medicine, while the heroes are handsome, wealthy doctors or surgeons. So You Think You Can Write has one such offering, entitled Belfast Belle. What fate lies in store for its inexperienced heroine, Lola Roberts? As she begins work on the ward she comes into conflict with her sexy French registrar. He sees Lola as a pink princess, which may be a technical term, and does not want the hassle of his job or sex with a beautiful woman. Despite this, sex is inevitable, but like all Frenchman Henri believes himself undeserving of happiness. What is a night of passion without a happy ending? Perhaps Lola can answer that through a combination of sex and maybe some technical jargon about a stethoscope.

The pitch for Paradise Found is classic Mills & Boon, perhaps explaining Katie Meyer's decision to aim for the Special Edition imprint. An orphan wants to save the community of Paradise Isle from a ruthless property developer. Nic Caruso, of Caruso Hotels, drives his rented car, wearing his rented suit, on his way to his rented room in Paradise Isle. This is no vacation, however, but rather a working vacation, which sounds a lot like work. He is here to tear down this idyllic small-town community and replace every building with a corporate hotel, ski resort, sunbatheing lounge, business centre, retail district and sixteen banks. Driving towards a bridge he spots a badly injured dog, dying on the side of the highway. After a great deal of philosophising he saves the dog. Dropping her in at the veterinary clinic he meets technician Jillian Everett and what follows appears to be foreseeable.

Few aspiring entries sounded more like a Mills & Boon novel than Amanda Cinelli's Resisting the Sicilian Playboy. It is as if the title has been pulled from a marketing meeting of marketing experts intent of finding the most clichéd words possible in the least amount of time. There is implied exoticism, a playboy and a playboy's favourite trait in a woman, resistance. The pitch begins as a reader might assume, 'Dara Devlin needs Leo Valente’s help if she wants to keep her job and plan the wedding of the year.' Not her own wedding, of course, although by the end of the book it will be. Everything is in place for a classic tale of romance, with a woman blackmailed into bed by a foreigner. Their no-strings affair takes a turn for the problematic, however, as Leo falls in love. But wait! That's not the end? It sounds like the end. 'Dara cant have children and vowed never to marry,' Cinelli continues. There is more than just an apostrophe missing for this unhappy couple. Will Leo prove to Dara that her pledge is silly and cure her infertiity with his magic penis? Does Leo happen to own a small orphanage filled with his illegimate offspring? What kind of resistance involves sleeping with the Sicilian playboy? So many questions.

Love for Sale is a Harlequin American Romance by the patriotically named Chase Ewing. There are few things less Yankee Doodle Dandy than a retired rodeo champion and Love for Sale offers Luke Crawford as its hero, a retired rodeo champion turned single father and ranch-owner. Still, even the characters of Harlequin American have felt the pinch of the economic meltdown and Luke is faced with the ultimate decision. Does he cash-in on his child or his home? By choosing the latter he meets ambitious estate agent Katherine Hastings. A lifetime of love seems relatively straight-forward at this point, but first Kate must find a buyer. Will Luke want to sell now that he has found a new and improved wife and mother for himself and his kid? With a title that promises solicititilation and a pitch that fails to deliver it, the enticing combination of ranching and property management makes Love for Sale a strong candidate for victory, assuming the voting public are lovestruck estate agents with a penchant for Westerns.

Fighting the good fight for Heartwarming is A Perfect Match. 'When east coast event planner Lacey Hoffmann first lays eyes on the tall, dark and dusty cowboy standing between her and her morning coffee, sparks fly.' Presumably because he has got dust in her beverage, but as this writing competition has been keen to illustrate, cowboys are the ultimate female desire, especially when they couple their aesthetic with a well-paid career. In this case, Clay McDaniel is a horse clinician from Texas. Not one for east coast coffee houses, he and Lacey head for his ranch. Still, the course of true love really only runs smoothly on the pages of romance novels, and even these two must overcome some problems. She fears her parents will divorce. He owes a debt to his brother. These sound like external conflicts. Internally they are, in so many ways, opposites and they live in different parts of the country. Might she relocate, given her preoccupation with cowboys? After all, despite their numerous differences they appear to be a perfect match. We know this because A Perfect Match is the title of the book.

Kimani Romances feature the African-American and multicultural characters that are not allowed to appear in the other imprints due to old-fashioned values such as racism. Making up the numbers for reasons of political correctness this year is Mistletoe Mischief by Carolyn Hector. Threatening the status quo even further, Mistletoe Mischief adds a non-white Christmas and a possibly homosexual Santa Claus to the mix. When the aptly-monikered Duke Rodriguez reveals Santa to not be a real mythical fabrication he seeks to put things right with assistance from Macy Cuomo, an over-worked holiday decorator. The holidays are always busy for holiday decorators, but Duke and Macy find time to gaze at one another and speak. As their attraction becomes more palpable, so, the reader might hope, will some kind of plot. So You Think You Can Write has achieved its objective of finding ten passable novels. If history is anything to go by, every author will be contracted, but one must be rewarded as the champion, because Mills & Boon insist upon happy and predictable endings. That'll be Superromance Man Maid then.

"Who would name their son Heathcliff and Rhett in this day and age"

The twenty-five finalists of So You Think You Can Write can be helpfully separated into ill-fitting categories. This allows Bewildered Heart to deal with them in groups, and the first group will be known as Women-in-Peril, due to their thriller overtures. There are two from the Harlequin Intrigue subgenre, Remembrance by Tanya M. Burnstad and Wanting the Detective by Leah Maser. There are two Historicals, Agent of Desire by Katherine Dane and Fire and Iron by Autumn Shelley. Representing Harlequin Romantic Suspense are Violation of Innocence by Jeannie Hall and In Desperate Search of Peace by Analiesa Adams. Finally, there is Impulse, by Ison Hill and for the Kimani™ imprint.

Where better to begin than with Remembrance, a mystery thriller featuring a hunted heroine suffering from amnesia, a retired Special Forces soldier and their mutual attraction that might just save both of them for reasons that aren't initially apparent. The first chapter begins with several unnecessary adjectives and the introduction of the psychopath who wants Sarah Morgan dead, much against her own wishes. After an opening light on plot but heavy on words, the story switches to something else entirely, and the reader is left to guess at what might be happening, thus fulfilling the secondmost important duty of the Intrigue subgenre. To call Remembrance somewhat incoherent would be too straightforward a sentence, and therefore would not do justice to Burnstad's prose.

Wanting the Detective, meanwhile, sounds suspiciously similar to every other mystery thriller ever written or filmed. This time, however, it is the heroine with special in her job title, as Lucy Reynolds is a Special Agent visiting Atlanta to track down her missing sister. Her personal investigation only brings her into conflict with Kurt Milton, the sexy police detective already on the case. Lucy will do whatever it takes to bring her sister home, but Kurt doesn't play by the rules when lives are at stake. She's enigmatic. He's untamed. Together they sound objectionable. Will sparks fly? Will a human trafficking ring be burned to the ground? Will that leave any evidence with which to prosecute? The first chapter begins promisingly enough in the location all romance novels should start in, a sleazy strip club, where the feisty heroine accidentally arrests her future husband, a cop claiming to be there working undercover. Still, at least they have a charming anecdote about how they first met to tell the grandchildren.

The woman-in-peril subgenre works well in the Historical imprint, as those were the days of damsels, where distress lurked around every corner. We begin with Fire and Iron, set in the classic Midwest, not far from John Wayne country. Incomprehensible sentences aren't the only thing troubling US Marshall Brit Tracey. There is too much murder going on in the town of Jennings, Wyoming and he is directly responsible for much of it. He shoots first, as half the saying goes, and the second half of the saying doesn't really apply to him. After what seems like a great deal of scrolling down the reader is introduced to both the plot and the heroine. "Crazy Mollie", otherwise known as 'Irish' Margaret Shannon O'Shea, is a cattle thief and convicted killer. Brit must transport her across country, all the while falling in love with her and bringing them both closer to the man who framed her for murder. Fire and Iron is not your typical romance. It is told from the hero's perspective and the opening chapter features many more references to urine than readers will be accustomed to. Still, completely ignoring the structural instructions the publisher suggested and making references to urine has never hurt an aspiring author previously.

Katherine Dane begins her pitch in confident mood. 'Perfect for the Harlequin Historical Series, Agent of Desire is a sexy historical romance filled with intrigue.' If only Harlequin Historical Intrigue Romance was a genre, then this would be just right. Agent of Desire may sound like a perfume you wouldn't buy for your grandmother, but if this competition has taught us anything it is that titles can be deceiving. Hampstead Heath, London. The year 1817. Lord Crayle meets Sari Trevor. Trevor, known for wearing a distinctive Asian drape, is not your standard historical heroine, according to the pitch. She robs carriages, and as the story begins, she is about to rob the carriage of Lord Crayle for all its jewels, money and the Lord's mother's ability to tactfully approach difficult subject matter. When judging the quality of writing, a prospective novel must pass the opening line test. Does, for example, the opening line make sense? Agent of Desire begins, 'Sari rubbed her gloved but frozen hands together painfully as hid among the beeches lining the London road.' Next.

From Harlequin Romantic Suspense comes Violation of Innocence. 'Raised in a cult and forced at twelve to marry its leader,' the pitch begins, pessimistically. Things improve, however, as some years later Lynea Kreig escapes to a college town and falls for her professor, an accident-prone expert on cults. Working together love is kindled, but somewhere lurks her husband, with homicidal vengeance on his mind. Violation of Innocence is either a retread of Sleeping with the Enemy or a powerful redemptive tale of a husband sacrificing everything to win back the beautiful woman he has loved since she was a child. The first chapter gives little away, too busy introducing numerous characters who may or may not be important and who may or may not soon be murdered.

Speaking of thinly-veiled retreads of Sleeping with the Enemy, In Desperate Search of Peace sees Lisa Hill flee her crazy ex-fiance, who has turned his back on engagement to focus on his new passion, drug addiction. Much like Lynea, Lisa finds love in an idealised small town, Lake Duchess, on the Washington coastline, but still adjacent to a lake named Duchess. Sheriff Ryan Jacobs takes a shine to the mysterious newcomer, but his work is, 'complicated by his growing feelings her.' In a world where not even sentences make sense, how are emotions supposed to? Still, author Analiesa Adams should earn credit for the most unexpectedly romantic line of dialogue thus far. 'Don’t hide from me. You fucking whore, get out here. Stop this shit.' What has happened to our once sweet and innocent romance genre?

Impulse imagines the greatest obstacle any hero faces when attempting to win the heart of the heroine, a restraining order. Payton Jordan may be unable to spell her first name, but she has a successful career as a news anchor for Channel 6 Detroit. She has good looks, a trademark smile, the ability to read, skin and hair, everything a television personality requires. Still, nothing says celebrity more like a demented stalker, and Payton has one of those to boot. The opening chapter splits its time between Payton at the police station, and the stalker watching his favourite show, the news. Where is the hero, as mentioned in the pitch as criminal psychologist Sterling Hughes? As it happens, he doesn't appear to be anywhere, unless he turns out to be the stalker, and that seems unlikely. The pitch says Payton will escape to the relative safety of Atlanta, apparently the human trafficking centre of the United States.

All of these seven first chapters appear suitable for Harlequin, given their complete indifference towards editing. If they make it through to the final ten and their full manuscripts are offered to the public there are pitfalls each will have to avoid. Women-in-peril, as plot devices, appeal to author, publisher and reader. For the writer it affords them more than just the woman-meets-man formula of Romance to inform their structure. The case brings the hero and heroine together, gives them something to talk about and pushes the story-line forward even while the romantic plot inevitably sags. While providing momentum, the thriller aspect breaks up the scenes of feeling-having and family history-sharing with sequences of possible excitement.

The challenge for the writer is in finding a balance between high-octane thrills and saccharine sentiment. Romance comes before intrigue, after all, as there are plenty of other bookshop shelves for readers seeking action and adventure. The tonal shifts require a nuanced touch to give credibility to complex emotional responses to life and death danger and candlelit dinner in an Atlantan restaurant. Given the stakes of the subplot, attempts at levity and romance can display a flippancy that is not consistent with the severity of the situation. After all, is it in poor taste to end a novel with a couple kissing on a pile of corpses?

"He kissed her softly, slowly and very thoroughly"

So You Think You Can Write has narrowed down its several hundred entries to a short-list of twenty-five. These can be perused, commented on, analysed thematically, rated and shared with friends and enemies over at the official website. After all, it is up to the public to shorten the short-list even further, down to the ten best which will proceed to the next round of judging. Amateur critics should hurry, however, because there is a great deal of reading and thinking to be done before the fast approaching deadline. Meanwhile, every first chapter that the judging panel considered is online, thus allowing the curious and the masochistic to enjoy the many pieces that were deemed not good enough for Harlequin Mills & Boon. There is truly something for everyone. Like your romances with a modern technological gimmick, then try Tweeting with the Bachelor or Nicey – An iPod Love Story. Prefer your titles with a typo, then how about In the Hundt or Held for Randsom?

Perhaps you only read novels with titles so ludicrous your only option is to read on? Well, the suspiciously named Ashley Joy Lowell Emma has offered up Undercover Amish, a story concerning a police detective returning to her former Amish home to solve a murder and maybe find love with a cabinet maker. If not those, would you care for a novel that finally tackles the alphabet scandal? If so, there is The ABC Controversy, which may or may not do that. The Barlow Springs Series The Elizabeth and Grey Wolf Adventures Book One: Bound By Love sounds ambitious, but lacks punctuation. Butterfly Coffee could be just about anything. How about the possibly euphemistic A Season for Plums? If fruit doesn't appeal, then there are presumably heroines named Time and Over in Doing Time and Do Over. I Might as Well Become Rich From My Misery seems to show an author accepting their future in romance fiction. What’s Better Than A Book Boyfriend? may ask an important question while Quarterback Casanova manages to say more than enough with those two words.

There are manuscripts that already sound like Mills & Boon novels even the publisher would consider derivative. It is hard to believe, for example, that Playboy Sheikh, Forbidden Heir or The BIllionaire’s No-Strings Marriage or Resisting The Sicilian Playboy do not already exist. Still, the fear of repeating themselves has not stopped Harlequin previously, and the publisher has proven this by constantly stressing that authors should not write what they believe editors will want at the cost of their own originality. Despite this, Resisting The Sicilian Playboy has made it as far the public vote along with all kinds of odd titles such as Fire and Iron, Love For Sale and When the Bus Stopped. Harlequin will no doubt change these to something more marketable before publication, but for now the romance readership can respond with mouseclicks, bringing to an end decades of misogyny and exotica for a future of pretentious references to nothing.

A cursorary glance of the submissions indicates some authors researched more heavily than others. A keen understanding of Harlequin's portfolio is always advised, but adhering too closely to the model is unwise. Chopstick Thursdays by Stella Steele introduces itself with, 'Poppy Merlot is not your typical heroine.' Uh oh, Chopstick Thursdays. First of all, what is a typical heroine? A feisty virgin, perhaps, with a quirk that isn't particularly quirky? Just how subversively unique is Poppy Merlot?  'She is a free spirited, audacious and sexually naïve mechanic whose favourite guilty pleasure is ordering Chinese food every Thursday.' Many of those words require closer scrutiny, but with time of the essence and another four hundred first chapters to review it would be smarter to just move on. The last thing the Romance genre needs is an audacious mechanic. By the way, is it possible to buy a bottle of Poppy Merlot from the same shop that sells Butterfly Coffee?

Some entries were rejected for reasons immediately apparent. Z.A. Zombies Anonymous, for example, a Nocturne entry by Jo Rohrbacker, is hardly suggestive of idealised romance, 'The zombie epidemic has consumed the planet. However, the underground world of pimps, prostitutes,“zombie fights” and the grotesque practice of “zombies-for-hire” doesn’t stop the human heart from falling hopelessly in sappy love.' To Rohrbacker's credit, she appears to have found a way, but for a MIlls & Boon editor hoping to whittle so many first chapters down to twenty five anything with zombie in the title is not going any further. Using a similar form of discernment, stories told in the first person are simply ruled out, as are those that have been written on a drunken whim, such as Janet Lee Nye's Man Maid, 'She runs the hottest cleaning service in town. He’s an undercover private investigator hired by her competition to find some dirt. When the truth comes out, it’s going to get messy.' On second thought, with this many puns Man Maid is an early favourite for victory.

Analysing every entry is a difficult and exhausting task, and the results might well be misleading. Many applicants have offered novels they believe stand a good chance of winning, tailoring their first chapter to the manner of the publisher. Others have written the romance novel they wish they could read, twisting conventions to create an original spin on a well-worn formula. Some have awkwardly tacked on a relationship to their mystery thriller in the hopes of finding a home at Harlequin. The twenty-five lucky chapters available to read and recommend are not necessarily representative of the entries as a whole. The shortlist has been selected by Mills & Boon editors, chosen for their qualities as strong examples of what Mills & Boon seek out. Nevertheless, the transparency of their process is admirable, although the hundreds of chapters and pitches left unselected have been given no reason as to why. We may never know just what was so unpalatable about Butterfly Coffee.

"When would she realize the folly of opening up her heart to men who wanted no part of it?"

Every year Harlequin Mills & Boon scours the world for new aspiring authors whose dream of being published by Harlequin Mills & Boon is not sufficiently ambitious enough to be considered a dream. As we approach the final few months of whatever historians will call this year the details of So You Think You Can Write have been announced. Much like the trials the publisher traffics in the path to the greatest reward is an arduous battle against tedium with easily surmountable obstacles, at least one arrogant businessman and what at first appears to be a lifetime of happy winnings, but is in fact a series of increasingly miserable compromises. Unlike previous years, however, this year will be slightly improved, albeit largely due to inflation. Not only will there be a weeklong conference and the usual parade of corporate buzzwords masquerading as events, but 2014 introduces the Ultimate Author's Publishing Prize, which really is the ultimate prize an author can receive in publishing.

Those dubbed Best Author in bygone years have had to make do with the indignity of winning a competition for Romance Fiction. This year's champion will instead be honoured with the single largest and most wide-ranging grand prize ever offered for this global contest. This one lucky writer will land a two-book series contract, a series-specific editor, marketing and PR support, as well as social media training and a summit meeting with a creative team. At last, no more will they amateurishly update their Facebook profile and post photographs of their cat on Twitter like an idiot. No, before long they will pow-wow with their imaginative entourage atop mountains. But wait, because just when the prize seems large, wide-ranging and exhausting Mills & Boon will also throw in a gift card for a champagne dinner for two, which will not pay for the meal entirely, but will certainly help.

Before aspiring authors begin to fantasise about the clinking of glasses and endless meetings there is the conference to suitably prepare writers for the challenge. Thankfully the event lasted from the 15th to the 19th of September and has therefore finished. The opening date for entrants is the 22nd and manuscripts can be submitted until November 10th, at which point authors must wait an entire year before this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity again becomes available. For those interested in pursuing their ambition of entering a writing competition the rules are simple. First, write an opening chapter, with a maximum of five thousand words, and a 100-word pitch of what happens during the latter twelve or so chapters, offering greater detail than happily-after-ever and a smiley-face emoticon. Last year there were seven hundred participants. This year the total number of however many entrants can be bothered to enter will be whittled down to twenty-five by the unpaid interns of professional Mills & Boon editors. These qualifiers must then submit a completed novel to be evaluated by the personal assistants of the professional editors. After this second round of judging the twenty-five will become a short-list of ten. These ten books will be posted on this very internet for a public vote over the course of the first week of November.

Last year sixty thousand fans voted, and selected Tanya Wright as their favourite, sending her on the way to wherever she is now. A mere seven or so days after the public voting begins the public voting ends and the grand winner is announced. The next day the victorious writer will sign his or her two-book contract and be jetted to the highest point of their respective country to meet their public relations expert, their stylist, their Twitter-twitterer, their new editor, the Queen of Romance and the amateur model who will stand in for them at photoshoots. The whirlwind nature of this sudden rise to stardom is presumably deliberate, and seems appropriate for the reality of typing and obscurity that is the life of a Mills & Boon author. Tanya Wright was not the only writer to have their life changed marginally by So You Think You Can Write. In fact, seventeen other entrants were signed up by Harlequin. A simple sum of mathematics would suggest that a writer does not even have to make the final round of voting to be considered talented enough for Mills & Boon. This bodes well for anyone considering throwing together the first three thousand and one hundred words they can think of.

What is next for those prospective novelists? The task of putting words on a page is arguably one of the most fundamental aspects of beginning a career in writing. As soon as the competition was announced the deadline for applications approached. Anyone just finding out about this might want to think twice about entering, considering a fifty-five thousand word novel will be expected in about six weeks time. Naturally, for adept romance fiction writers six weeks should plenty. Jill Shalvis could write a perfectly satisfactory Jill Shalvis romance novel in the time it takes to read this sentence. Despite the race against time element, So You Think You Can Write is an opportunity difficult to resist. When else can an aspiring author have an unsolicited manuscript read by a Harlequin editor?

Before excitement threatens to overtake good judgement there are a handful of doubts worth fretting over. Not only does your book have to convince interns, assistants and editors, but it must also manage to impress the notoriously discerning Mills & Boon fanbase, even before publication and the financial windfall. Then there are the other several hundred novels up for selection, some offering debonair sadists, pouting vampires or original archetypes women have not yet realised they have loved since forever. How will niche sub-genres fare against more mainstream, populist offerings? Do authors of the unconventional, the cult or the literary submit their novels to Mills & Boon? Probably not, but that experimental, stream of consciousness romance featuring the disfigured hobo and the world-weary prostitute should probably wait for a more progressive chance of a big break regardless.

For the company behind So You Think You Can Write there is only positive publicity. Naturally, they release the news with a politically-correct statement of betterment. 'Harlequin and Mills & Boon editors believe that by engaging aspiring writers, showcasing the tremendous appeal of the romance genre and offering expert insights into crafting the perfect story, they can help promising novelists hone their skills and achieve their dreams of writing for one of the world’s leading publishers of books for women.' Write on! Admittedly, Bewildered Heart takes issue with dream as the correct choice of word, but the aspiration of the publishing giant, now backed by News Corporation billions, gives them every right to falsely claim an idealistic purpose. The challenge has been challenged, the gauntlet has been thrown down. If you, dear reader, believe you have a romance novel in you, or preferably a romance novel in your desk drawer, now might be the time to dust that thing down, change the name on it from your own to that of a True Blood cast member and start looking up local restaurants that serve champagne and offer gift certificates.

"Though she was still hurt and angry about his lies and deception, all of that was forgotten in an instant"

The slow progress that is reading The Prince's Cowgirl Bride, and the use of the word progress is misleading, has revealed an insight so obvious Bewildered Heart has never given it much consideration, due to redundancy. Still, the one remarkable issue with the novel is its formulaic approach to character, story and whatever else constitutes a novel. Over the years Harlequin Mills & Boon and its loyal stable of authors have dismissed the notion of a set formula to which their product must adhere. There are no rules and no structures. There are, however, a series of rules and structures that serve as a guide to what will be published. This is not so much a formula as a system of orchestrated parameters that leave authors with little creative freedom to branch out in surprising directions and alter the formula that does not exist.

Romance fiction is not renowned for subversive risk-takers hellbent on overthrowing the norms of the genre, and thus the norms have remained safely in place, with new aspiring authors ready and willing to feed in the same ingredients that led to the novels they were inspired by. Secrets Uncovered insisted that what takes place on the pages of a manuscript is solely up to the writer, limited only by the constraints of imagination, but an overview of a handful of the company's books suggest there are clear identities to romantic heroes and heroines and a series of predictable story structures those characters find themselves within and unable to change. This isn't necessarily the fault of Harlequin. Romance has certain requirements as much as any other genre. No one complains about all the murdering that takes place in crime fiction.

Nevertheless, The Prince's Cowgirl Bride is eye-opening in its dreary parade of requisite scenes. Harlen begins as she means to go on, with the most archetypal of all heroes, the dark, enigmatic, muscular, sensitive, tall and masculine Mac Delgado. He works with his hands, but understands the needs of women. He also happens to be a Mediterranean Prince. Opposite him is Jewel Callahan, who, despite being ten years older than her husband-to-be, is the clichéd, naïve young women of romance, fiercely independent, sexually-inexperienced and nothing without a man. She also has unresolved father issues. There was an opportunity for The Prince's Cowgirl Bride to explore the potentially interesting ramifications of the older woman younger man dynamic, but by making Mac a confident, womanising playboy and Jewel the lonely maid with a short romantic history the characters revert to type. Jewel maybe a business owner, fighting chauvinist clients and the spectre of her successful dad, with Mac her mere employee, but the plot does not play out appropriately. Even the Mills & Boon title implies male ownership, and all the suggested social superiority Jewel has over Mac is a lie, because he is really a Mediterranean Prince.

There is a subsection of the genre that uses secret identities as a central concept. As a result the structure is easy to map out. In other cases, most notably The Truth About the Tycoon, the heroine meets a perfectly eligible bachelor and falls in love with him. The author spends one hundred and eighty pages convincing the reader that the love shared between the couple is real, passionate and eternal. The twist that instigates the third act revolves around the discovery of the lie, betrayal and realisation that the intimacy, honesty, love-making and ever-lasting devotion was, in fact, fraudulent. The reader has been in on this from the beginning, however, warming to the hero, empathising with his reason to lie and shouting at the heroine to open her heart and let him in, whoever he is. But wait! For there is one final twist, as it turns out the man's actual persona is an improvement on the fake one. He isn't a hunky fireman from the wrong side of the tracks, but a billionaire property tycoon who loves saving kittens from trees. Most importantly, of course, the only thing the hero didn't lie about was being single. This leads to a happy ending and further defeat for feminism so straightforward it hardly needs putting into words.

In The Domino Effect, the tables were turned, with the heroine being allowed a secret identity that allowed her to fall in love and murder her prospective husband's mother. Unlike The Truth About the Tycoon, or The Prince's Cowgirl Bride, Domino Black had to entirely reject her actual personality as an unrepentant killer in order to be accepted as wife material. She retired from being an international spy for a top secret branch of the federal government and that seemed to be the least she could do. The Domino Effect might appear to be a victory of sorts, with the heroine taking the role usually afforded to the hero, but whether the failure of Julie Leto's novel was due to this twist or the utterly abject writing is debatable. A character can be redeemed if their dishonestly is a byproduct of a noble objective, such as thwarting terrorism, shirking regal responsibility or sex, and often the guilt the liar feels as they develop feelings softens the extent of the mendacity. After all, if a woman is unable to comprehend that you are lying to them for their own good they are no doubt one of these modern, enlightened women who authoritative CEOs know not to marry.

Another popular standard sees the heroine blackmailed, tricked, bribed or prostituted into a sexual relationship. Typically the hero is a ruthless tycoon, arrogant billionaire or conceited sheikh, which is largely consistent with the genre as a whole. Their power, wealth and success in every field but one, their devastating good looks and personification of charm rather undermines the need to blackmail, trick, bribe or prostitute women into sexual relationships, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and sometimes blackmail is the best means to convince a woman to accompany you to dinner, and perhaps a movie. At first the heroine is flattered by all the attention and is willing to overlook the morally-dubious subtext of the mutually-beneficial transaction due to her attraction to her buyer and a dim understanding of how blackmail works. Slowly the story develops and she has second thoughts, as all the sex she has been bought or blackmailed into having has had negative effects on her self-worth. This allows the author to reach the third act where the heroine walks away from the contract and/or verbal agreement and the hero reconsiders his ways and agrees to continue the relationship, but without the financial compensation. Numerous novels have followed this formula, including Fifty Shades of Grey, The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress, Bedded at the Billionaire's Convenience, The Millionaire's Indecent Proposal and the vast majority of books published by Mills & Boon.

The appeal of Solicititilation for a writer is the appearance of extreme obstacles. Typically, buying or renting a lady is not a romantic way to begin a relationship and love rarely blossoms in such circumstances. Therefore hero and heroine have a great distance to travel before their blissful resolution. Why Harlequin authors present themselves with such a challenge is a mystery, but perhaps they believe Pretty Woman made it look easy. If an alpha male is supposed to begin their journey selfish and unable to form a committed union this can be achieved by behaving in a manner not dissimilar to male characters such as Ethan Cartwright and Franco Constantine. After all, if you begin a plot with a woman being blackmailed into sex to save their parents from destitution the reader will assume her knight in shining armour is not going to be the blackmailer. Still, there is nothing so ambitious as the bold, logic-defying attempt of the hero's romantic redemption or the heroine's weak, intelligence-insulting acceptance of a story dictated by her man.

What would a romance novel be without simultaneous character arcs showing two people helping one another to become even more perfect than they were originally? This is the formula Mills & Boon denies and also favours. Most often the hero is unwilling to settle down, due to the regularity in which women throw themselves at him. The heroine's afflictions are singledom and controlling her hair in humidity. As her story begins and she ponders what to do with all these wedding invitations that she won't send out due to Marcus being a rake, a man wanders past with a tin of pomade and a desire to tear down the wildlife enclosure she inherited from her single mother. A tender courtship ensues, allowing him to recognise the many flaws that made him successful, wealthy and universally adored and cure the heroine of not being married and pregnant by marrying and impregnating her. This structure can be experienced through reading the likes of The MacGregor Grooms, The Dad Next Door, Under the Millionaire's Influence, One Night with the Rebel Billionaire, Romantics Anonymous and any other Mills & Boon book that doesn't have a title implying ownership. What makes the standard formula so appealing is the illusion of competence. Here characters grow and change, just like human people, affecting the course of events through their burgeoning personalities, all the way to the happy ending that was never in doubt from the start.

"He'd never had to make more than the minimal effort to get a woman into his bed"

As if to disprove their most fundamental tenet last week Harlequin Mills & Boon left one billionaire owner for another, as News Corporation bought the publisher from Torstar in a deal worth $415 million. The world's foremost purveyor of romance fiction will now operate as a division of HarperCollins. This news has been met with numerous emotional reactions ranging from the mildly concerned to the entirely disinterested. Corporate take-overs and corporate mergers are popular at present in the publishing industry, and News Corp. has been eager to expand its portfolio of companies, having already toyed with amalgamating with the likes of Hachette, Pan Macmillan and Simon & Schuster. For an idealistic money-maker such as Harlequin, Torstar was no longer the tycoon to keep them in finery. The furtive glances and pebbled nipples of Rupert Murdoch proved too good to turn down. Whereas Torstar has lost the brightness in it eyes and a huge amount of money in recent times, News Corp. is powerful, wealthy, attractive and knows what it is doing when it comes to merging.

There are certain obstacles, however, standing in the way of a happy coupling. News Corp. has been known to be controlling, emotionally distant and megalomaniacal, even going so far as to listen to mobile phone messages without permission. Might it be that they love too much? Whatever, say Mills & Boon, perhaps a little petulantly, those things that took place in the past took place in the past and should not been considered relevant to predicting the future. Critics don't know News Corp. like Harlequin knows News Corp.. They have changed and this time will be different. Through the gentle embrace of Mills & Boon and their tales of true love, innocence and NASCAR News Corporation will soon open their hearts as easily as they open their wallets.

For Murdoch's tyrannical empire, who hope to soon announce the ownership of everything, their motivation for the take-over is obvious. Mills & Boon will become a key piece of their vertical and horizontal strategy. As Forbes Magazine simply explains, HarperCollins wishes to, 'develop vertical niches within publishing to give it economies of scale when marketing to audiences.' Naturally, Harlequin is no longer as young and flexible as they once were, but they remain an established name in the genre, and are hugely successful overseas, whereas HarperCollins are not. Despite this, Mills & Boon have been struggling financially, in the relative terms of a business worth hundreds of millions of dollars annually. Revenues have fallen steadily over the past four years, down almost $100million since 2009. Between 2007 and 2013, mass market print sales declined from $1.1 billion to $373.1 million. In 2013, their CEO, Craig Swinwood, blamed lower sales on book pricing and self-publishing. The electronic market, which Harlequin initially embraced, has negatively affected business. 'Because of aggressive discounting at large online retailers many hardcover titles are being sold at similar or sometimes lower prices than paperbacks.'

Meanwhile, self-publishing is big business. 'In 2013, there were 99 self-published ebook best-sellers.' To put this potentially meaningless sentence into context, 'Hachette, one of the largest publishers in the world, led all publishers with 258; Harlequin was 11th on the list with 21.' Considering many of Hachette's successes were not traditional romances, but from a wide-range of genres, this statistic is so misleading it was perhaps not worth mentioning. Still, the average price of an e-book will soon level out, offering a more dependable insight into future profits. Fortunately for Mills & Boon their new bosses, HarperCollins, know a thing or two about price-fixing e-books. Self-publishing offers numerous advantages to the self-publisher. An author has creative control, and only has to deal with themselves, albeit wearing a different hat. The share of the royalties is greater, seventy per cent compared to fifteen to twenty-five per cent that is traditional for Harlequin writers. Finally and perhaps best, there is no chance of receiving a rejection letter from the company who have recently released books entitled From Enemy's Daughter to Expectant Bride, Cowboy Under the Mistletoe and The Last Good Knight.

In response to an increase in self-publishing, Mills & Boon have attempted to offer more compelling reasons for authors to choose a publishing house. They have introduced Harlequin’s Author Network, 'a dashboard where authors can check sales, get market intelligence and have all their questions answered by a concierge service.' Still, the appeal of self-publishing is strong. Anyone able to cover the cost can publish their own twist on Fifty Shades of Grey, but for the customer there is no difference between those authors choosing artistic freedom and those who would be read any other way. The stamp of Mills & Boon approval guarantees a uniformly indistinguishable level of expectation, but perhaps readers are drawn to the thrill of the unknown found within the abyss of the internet. For News Corp. the prestige of the company name was considered worth the investment. For the money spent, Mills & Boon is a sound purchase. Romance Fiction is a lucrative market, and HarperCollins has placed itself at its centre in a single move.

As for the future, will they seek to make adjustments to the product? Is this positive news for aspiring authors and loyal readers? 'From a reader’s standpoint, it concerns me because Harlequin has always been innovative and tried to bring diverse story lines,' says Jane Litte, founder of Dear Reader. In particular Little singles out Harlequin's ethnic imprints, but their appeal to foreign markets is what made them so appealing to News Corporation. Craig Swinwood attempted to reassure readers in the aftermath of the deal's announcement. 'The Harlequin name and rich heritage will be preserved independently, with the aim to leverage capabilities to bring the book-reading public more choices.' Litte recognises that it is too soon to tell what this will mean for loyal readers, beyond knowing that now there will be a new more reason for feeling dirty and guilty for purchasing a romance novel.

"She took in the chiseled features beneath the thick black hair, the straight nose, the eminently kissable lips"

When confronted with a romantic novel, not unlike The Prince's Cowgirl Bride, it is difficult not to be reminded of Lynley Stace's article listing the many number of reasons to hate romance novel. As proof perhaps that her ravings were not the irrational womanly opinions of a female, Stace backed up some of her claims by linking to the irrefutable evidence of a source. The source in question was A Billion Wicked Thoughts by the indecently monikered Ogi Ogas and Dr. Sai Gaddam and the chapter of the book that piqued our interest was the eighth, A Tall Man with a Nice Tush. Naturally, because who wouldn't have their head turned by a lanky male bearing impressive facial ivory? Yet A Billion Wicked Thoughts offers more than just appealing chapter titles, as it also contains facts and figures.

Ogas and Gaddam reviewed ten thousand books published between 1983 and 2008. From these hundreds of millions of words they sought the most frequently mentioned male body. The top seven were cheekbones, jaws, brows, shoulders, foreheads, waists and hips. Any true romantic hero features at least three of these, but there are notable absentees. Where are the eyes, arms, buttocks, sixpacks, lips, pectorals and penises? Is forehead a euphemism for hairline? If not, why is the forehead more popular than any other indistinguishable stretch of skin? What is a brow? By brow do authors mean Brad Pitt's eyebrows? Would a billionaire consisting of two cheekbones, a jaw, one brow, a pair of shoulders, a forehead, a waist and a handful of hips be deemed a complete billionaire? How is there no mention of eyelashes, a man's most important characteristic? What kind of scientific survey is this?

While bachelors everywhere alter their beauty regime to place greater emphasis on forehead-upkeep, what do these words teach us about the romance genre? Those readers thinking very little are probably onto something, but aspiring authors would be wise to take heed and update their manuscripts accordingly. A lengthy and detailed forehead description might well be what separates rejection and international glory. Yet any talented novelist will know that simply pointing out that a hero has a forehead is not enough. A forehead, like any body part, requires an adjective to make it come to life. Popular adjective-body part combinations include blue eyes, straight nose, high forehead, square jaw, dark hair, white teeth, sensual mouth, crooked smile, broad shoulders, broad chest, narrow waist, flat stomach, strong arms, big hands, big feet, long legs and powerful thighs. A Billion Wicked Thoughts notes the non-appearance of genitalia, but it seems safe to assume every one of the above can be insinuated to mean impressive length.

Lynley Stace used this article to criticise homogenised and shallow attitudes towards male beauty. The romance genre does not deserve the brunt of the blame for this, although it is guilty of depending upon a classic version of the ideal man. Every alpha male hero is basically the same, save for a handful of superficial differences such as black or brown hair, arrogant or conceited, billionaire or millionaire. Where are the Harlequin heroes with low foreheads, broad waists and narrow chests? Where are the teeth with coffee stains? What about men with small hands and feet? Are those with intellectual mouths doomed to a lifetime of loneliness? Was the Twilight series solely accountable for the inclusion of crooked smile? As critics attempt to shake romance from its rigid understanding of what is worth writing about, and hope to someday see an assorted and healthy range of heroines, it would only be fair if heroes then received their own politically-correct makeover.

The seven most common adjectives to describe a man in the ten thousand novels Ogas and Gaddam searched through were lean, handsome, blond, tanned, muscular, masculine and chiseled. There are no surprises here, besides blond hair being as crucial to desirability as gender and regular exercise. Over the course of reading a small cross-section of Harlequin's product, Bewildered Hearts will recognise these traits as standard, not just in the novels they have read, but also in the photographs of Hugh Jackman on their fridge. Mills & Boon is not responsible for helping short, fat, poor or bald men feel better about themselves. Their novels are escapist fantasies and their heroes are the pinnacles of manly perfection.  Variety exists, albeit not especially, as readers will surely know the difference between a Greek tycoon, a Brazilian surgeon, a Sheikh from a country that does not exist and a cowboy from a Mediterranean island that does not exist.

While the target audience wishes to see representation in their heroines, there is no need to imbue heroes with flaws for the sake of anything other than a satisfying storyline. Perhaps this monotony justifies the opinions of those who hate romance. Once you have read one, is there enough diversity to characters, plots and structures to validate continued reading? The study carried out in A Billion Wicked Thoughts does little to prove a tedious repetition of handsome. Gaddam and Ogas have merely proven that romance tends towards cliché and women generally prefer their men to be gorgeous, strapping, healthy and men. This is hardly damning, and not what the investigation of sexual desire even intended to discover. Given the choice of hero, as well as the dream husband, this is the kind of man women choose. After all, a fairy-tale prince is unlikely to suffer any physical defects, besides the occasional curse.

If Harlequin heroes are uniformly attractive in a style an evolutionary psychologist would surely approve of, the originality in romance fiction must come from elsewhere. There seems an unwillingness to challenge the successful rut romance has worked itself into, and culturally there is no need to revolutionise the hero aesthetic. Perhaps fresh and exhilarating adjectives are required, such as wobbly or immense. Perhaps long-forgotten body parts never previously considered erotic can receive recognition. Has the time finally arrived for gratuitous lingering on elbows? Do chin dimples denote wealth and virility? Could the moustache make an overdue comeback? Should the genre take the advice of Lynley Stace and do away with flowery description to just get on with telling a story? Is it possible no changes will be made at all? For certain it is the readers who will decide, but some of those options sound more plausible than others.

"Six years on the rodeo circuit had disillusioned Jewel about a lot of things"

For even the most world-weary of romance fans, Bewildered Hearts should still be wary of the occasional subversion to the archetypes of Mills & Boon. Plots and characters rarely deviate from the formulas that have served the publisher so prosperously. Therefore when a novel such as The Prince’s Cowgirl Bride appears the cynical reader would be forgiven for wondering how Brenda Harlen’s book ever got past the hopeful manuscript stage. The title suggests a prince and a cowgirl fall into wedlock, either naturally or through blackmail, and while this is the case the titular prince is a good decade younger than the inappropriately named cowgirl of the title. Yet, due to oversight, idealism or perhaps Friday afternoon cocktails at the office, this Special Moments offering has indeed made it into book form and Bewildered Heart has struggled through the opening three chapters and therefore an incredulous review is acceptable.

Jewel Callahan runs a stable for racing horses somewhere in rural United States. She inherited the business from her disapproving father and has been attempting to win the endorsement of adult men ever since. As a result, she has failed as a woman, reaching her mid-thirties with neither a husband nor a baby. Her beautiful, lively and charismatic sister, Crystal, has married and also manages a renowned bakery. This only reinforces the notion that something is wrong with Jewel, beyond her preference for horses over male companionship, baking cakes and babies. There is trouble at the stables, as Russ has found a woman of his own and handed in his notice. Now Jewel must deal with the most arduous task any person can face, recruitment. If only a tall, handsome, qualified, unemployed stranger would walk into her life during this very sentence…

Meanwhile, on a small Mediterranean island that does not exist, Marcus Santiago of Tesoro Del Mar is facing up to the reality of what it means to be a handsome young Prince. It seems he cannot even idly rest in the lap of luxury without a beautiful girl throwing herself at him. Sigh! Having no regal obligations, he is free to gallivant the globe and study at whichever prestigious school he pleases, all while beautiful girls throw themselves at him. After presumably graduating from Harvard he travels across the United States, winding up in the same small-town backwater bakery Crystal owns, just in time to hear Jewel complain of being short-staffed. This term could never be used to describe Marcus, and so he introduces himself as Mac Delgado, turns and delivers a foal and is promptly rewarded with a two week trial.

Jewel is reluctant to hire the most beautiful man she has ever seen despite his display of veterinary competence and muscular torso. He may know his way around a horse and a gym, but what he offers in masculinity he lacks somewhat in biographical detail. Still, her stable is a couple cowboys short of a hoedown, if you forgive the technical parlance, and seeing as how the alternative is trawling through resumes and interviewing people, Jewel wisely decides to employ the first person she sees. Moreover, Crystal is delighted with the spontaneous hiring, and believes Mac to be eligible husband material for her sister based upon his appearance and lack of employment. Jewel’s stable has been a couple of cowboys short of a rodeo for many years now, if you forgive the vulgar euphemism, and seeing as how the alternative is trawling the internet and dating people, Crystal wisely decides to set Jewel up with the first person she sees.

The attraction between hero and heroine is palpable, and oft-mentioned by a narrator intent on heavy-handedness. Yet despite their shared magnificence Jewel cannot see herself marrying Mac. After all, she is ten years older than him and women over twenty-six are physically disgusting. Yet the age difference does not concern Mac because, as with all idealised men, he just happens to be into that. In his favour, however, a lifetime of cleaning stalls has been kind to this business owner and part-time jockey. She is as pretty as a twenty-something, and has all the sexual experience of a female character in a Harlequin romance. Her good looks captivate the secret Prince immediately, and he barely notices Crystal, a far more attractive woman and about his age. From this promising beginning the opening chapters contain bridled passion, as the flirtatious couple find ways to be alone and further ways not to touch, setting the probable trend for the rest of the novel, give or take a kiss and maybe a few rides around the paddock.

Due perhaps to its one surprising element, The Prince’s Cowgirl Bride compensates with stereotypes and clichés in all other areas. Mac is a modern hero, keen to shirk responsibility by marrying and starting a family. Harlen does not want her reader to doubt his credentials as sensitive alpha male, foregoing the usual trial of the hero overcoming conceitedness by making him thoroughly decent from the outset. There seems only one obstacle between him and his happy ever after, and that is his duty as Prince of a small Mediterranean island that does not exist. Can he leave his family and God-given birthright, throw it all away to co-manage a stable with the dream woman of his ten year older self? Will Mac sacrifice something he doesn’t want for sex?

The difficulties for Jewel are numerous and easily overcome. She must save her business, and the non-profit charity she runs in her spare time, possibly by riding one of her abandoned horses to victory in a local derby. She must prove to the friends of her father that she is a worthy successor and can be trusted in running the stables. She must begin to respect herself without the affection of her father and believe herself worthy of the perfect man. She must discover that her perfect man is nothing more than the invention of a bored playboy in the country illegally on an expired visa. She must quickly realise that his lying was fine with her and marry whoever he really is anyway. Only then will she truly have everything, including a tiara, the ultimate prize for any modern woman.

Why Brenda Harlen felt it necessary to introduce an age gap remains to be read, but it appears to be another neurosis for Jewel to fight past. The split narrative perspective serves little purpose when every rummage around Mac’s brain reveals little but the conflict between masculine arousal and gentlemanly restraint. The heroine has more than just her horses riding on the outcome of her romance, but the love story is not threatened by external forces. Whereas Accidental Princess was structured around the rules of the aristocracy and threw in a relationship to complicate matters, the reader has no understanding of the customs of a Mediterranean island that does exist. If the stable fails Jewel always has royalty to fall back on, and if the stable succeeds what stops Mac from staying in whichever part of West Virginia the novel is set in? The only thing prohibiting Jewel and Mac from getting together, besides all of the deceit, is Jewel’s refusal to believe she is the heroine of a romantic fantasy.

"He was hot and smelled like horses, if not worse"

Besides the obvious and credible reasons to hate Romance Fiction there are several less obvious, but equally credible, reasons to hate Romance Fiction that defenders of the genre rarely attempt to dismiss. Lynley Stace, weblogger and co-creator of Slap Happy Larry, has collected ten reasons and displayed them helpfully as a list for easy reference. If your aversion towards Romance stems from out-dated gender roles authors and publishers are eager to explain that much work has been done to contemporise misogyny so it feels fresh and recognizable to women living and suffering billionaires today. If upon learning this you remain disinclined to read a Mills & Boon, or any novel with love or shopping in the title, there is no need to panic or embarrass yourself at a dinner party. Here are several more excuses for politely refusing a reading suggestion.

Numbers one to three fall under the same umbrella of disappointment, language skills. ‘Liberal splatterings of adjectives and adverbs, and in romance it’s okay to make use of adverbs in dialogue tags as well. This often leads to sloppy dialogue.’ Unintentionally comical euphemisms for body parts are considered proof of Romance’s ineptitude, but this does a disservice to the hundreds of sentences that are not sex-related. Adverbs tend to add clarification, but are often redundant and slow the story. Literary giants avoid them, but they remain tempting to romantics, unschooled in the craft of economical writing. Adjectives should be used sparingly. However, when struggling with a lack of momentum, Romance writers bulk out their books with scenes of staring and description. Tales of happy love are told at a leisurely pace, stopping on occasion to smell roses and have sex. As a result, the prose becomes personable and relaxed. Readers are not interested in skillfully edited examples of Raymond Carver-style writing. They wish to enjoy the journey. They know the destination before they start.

Due perhaps to the simplified nature of the readership, romantic prose rarely demands cognitive scrutiny. Why use subtlety when the repeated use of emotional exposition is so much more understandable? By constantly describing the unchanging thoughts of the heroine via an omnipotent third person narrator the characters are saved from doing things and making decisions as a means of revealing personality or developing plot. Instead the story can concentrate on aspirational affluence and handsomeness until enough words have been written. Speaking of Hugh Jackman, chiseled features are Stace’s next object of hatred yet criticising Romance novels for idealizing physical appearance is unreasonable. ‘The leading man must be attractive to female readers,’ says Stace. Would female readers, or romance readers as they are also known, find the same satisfaction in a disfigured or grotesque billionaire hero? How many copies of The Greek Tycoon’s Really Great Personality would sell?

Bearing in mind that hero and heroine must be married by the book’s conclusion physical attraction is a requirement, but Stace may be right to condemn the stock standard form of beauty Romance rarely deviates from. Yet given the worldwide appeal of the genre there is no longer a dependence on, ‘Well-known Western Beauty Ideals.’ Characters come from every corner of the globe, the men always muscular and tall, the women always attractive to the men. There have been unconventional heroines in recent years, from the overweight to the over-thirty, but as Stace notes, the female lead, ‘must have something wrong with her, but nothing that would put a potential suitor off.’ Secrets Uncovered taught us why hair frizzes on sunny days, as an easy means of humanizing a character who might otherwise be perfect with her life only about to become more perfect. Continuing on a theme, has Romance Fiction ruined itself by insisting that the eyes of its handsome heroes always match their suit, tie or the sky? This cliché might say more about a heroine whose attraction causes her to see such complements, rather than the idea that gorgeous billionaires know what colour nature is. We will perhaps never know the truth, at least until Lynley Stace has to chance to ask a few gorgeous billionaires.

Next, ‘In these times of premarital sex and mobile phones, it’s harder and harder to contrive a reason why the two of them shouldn’t just get together from the off.’ Any author dedicated to a semblance of reality will struggle to keep the inseparable pair of beautiful, single people from either God-bothering intercourse or texting. Thus the reader is treated to a series of contrivances that Stace calls conflict. All stories require conflict to be stories, but hackneyed excuses, lazy plotting and unoriginal obstacles are a curse to every genre, and should not be tolerated in Romance just as they should not be tolerated anywhere else. When a concept is fundamentally flawed, and Romance novels are guilty of starting on shaky footing, no amount of emotional conflicts will convince the reader that the characters are acting realistically. Yet to make the Happy Ever After convincing the reader must see the couple interact, develop feelings and reveal true selves. Mills & Boon insist that the hero and heroine cannot be parted physically, meeting two or three times a chapter in expensive locations to gaze upon one another’s beauty and marvel at one another’s intelligence, wit and kindness. Without credible antagonism or human frailty the books end up as an interminable succession of inevitability delays.

To conclude Stace relies on what many romantics will have expected from the beginning. ‘Heteronormative, matrimonial ideals are somewhat outdated.’ Nothing says your characters lived happily until death quite like marriage and procreation, except perhaps saying they lived happily until death. Nevertheless, until the majority of humanity stop with heterosexual, committed relationships publishers will continue pushing conservative values that have remained unchallenged for centuries. As for describing intimacy, ‘Sex scenes can feel cringe-worthy or wrong, because everyone’s sexual response is different.’ This is a subjective view of subjectivity. In the hundreds of thousands of sex scenes that appear in every romance novel an understanding of sensuality should materialise, suggesting that humans are animals and all of them are essentially the same. Still, there are worrying elements to these scenes, as Stace points out. ‘In romance we’re fed this idea that the way a woman looks to a man is the most important thing in the sex act. Her sexual response depends on the approval of a man.’

The article goes on to criticise an example told in third person but from the man’s perspective for the cheesy, pandering way the virginal heroine is represented by the author and the hero. Of course, Stace could have picked numerous scenes from any number of novels where the sex is described from the heroine’s point of view had she any inclination to read them. These would have shown the other four senses all receiving a mention, although not many would have portrayed women as sexual beings with their own desires and confidence. Lynley Stace makes a handful of valid arguments, as well as several that do not hold up to close examination, but those who do not enjoy Romance Fiction and do not read it are not required to justify why. There are plenty of Bewildered Hearts, such as Bewildered Heart, who read a great many titles, research the subject thoroughly and hate with an overabundance of information to back them up. Disinterested critics who believe Elizabeth and Darcy made a mistake in marrying should leave the rejection of Romance to the fans of the genre who have worked hard to earn their bitter cynicism.

"Personal relationships aren't team sports"

Previously on Bewildered Heart we discussed the numerous arguments romance fiction fans have mounted in defence of their favourite kind of writing. Due to the frequency and quantity of these opinion pieces it might appear as if critical maulings occur regularly, requiring a steady stream of justified rebukes. Yet Romance exists in an isolated vacuum, much like actual couples, and within these confines the genre treats itself generously. Critics review new novels with the understanding of their place within the literary canon. Award ceremonies do not include books from other genres. Websites and weblogs dedicate themselves solely to Romance, as if the wider world of aliens, dystopian societies, families, and teenage girls battling aliens, dystopian societies and their families somehow aren't noteworthy.

For a Bewildered Heart to demonstrate the vitriol romance defenders object to there is an absence of essays and articles to cut and paste from. Instead we make do with a silence from intellectuals with better things to do than read the latest publications from Mills & Boon, and we simply cannot cut and paste silence to fill our monthly Google blog quota. Still, to not be taken seriously is affront enough if, of course, you wish to be taken seriously. Considering the wealth of reactions from readers, writers, editors, reviewers and self-proclaimed experts such a desire exists. The crux of the argument comes down to the mass market. Does Romance cross-over with reviews in journals and newspapers and discussions on the late night chat show circuit. Numerous other genres are not treated in this manner, with their own dark and dusty sections in bookshops and never featured in the Times Literary Supplement, so why Romance?

Some put mainstream dismissal down to misogyny. There was a time that considered love as worthy a subject for literature, theatre and poetry as honour or horses. 'Sociologists have long recognized a phenomenon called “feminization,” which means that anything that becomes associated solely with women falls in general esteem.' So says Jennifer Crusie, a woman, in Defeating The Critics: What We Can Do About the Anti-Romance Bias. Her typically melodramatic female reaction suggests that the genre is universally condemned because it threatens the patriarchal establishment. This is achieved because Romance tells uncomfortable truths that men and some feminists don't want to acknowledge, such as heroines are equal to heroes, sex is as vital to women as it is to men, love is powerful and justifies fiction, women coo at babies in supermarkets, no one really enjoys responsibility, women need relationships and happy ever afters are not delusional fantasies dangerously out of touch with reality.

Bearing this in mind what can we do to fight against oppressive rejection? 'We can argue that romance fiction is maligned because it’s so threatening to rigid political and academic structures.' Yet ultimately, Crusie argues, this is unnecessary. Firstly, men and most feminists are bad listeners, and secondly, 'We don’t write to please establishments, we write to reach women.' This sounds suspiciously similar to what untalented authors, musicians and filmmakers say about their lousy books, music and movies. Therefore, is there a more grandiose way in which to spell out that sentiment? 'By writing good books we counteract decades of pessimism with narratives of realistic optimism, we break through knee-jerk limitations on women imposed by both the political right and left, and we refute the sterile elitism of current literary criticism.' You go, girls.

All this proud resolve masks an obvious flaw in the pro-Romance rhetoric. The genre enjoys its status as an outsider ignored by the establishment, yet as we are repeatedly told Romance fiction is the largest and most lucrative sector in publishing. Romance, despite its protestations, is the commercial establishment. When the likes of Crusie speak of crossing over, what would they like Romance to cross-over to? Is there a larger audience for a genre that already enjoys the largest audience of the written word? As exemplified by corporate juggernauts such as Harlequin Mills & Boon, Romance is the bloated big business that critics have always railed against, from pop music to Hollywood blockbusters. Still, generalising the genre into a single style, title or notion is misguided. As with anything else, there is the mainstream, the alternative and the independent. Anything mass-produced, indiscernible in content and low on quality will rightfully be chastised for lowest common denominator money-grabbing.

Romance does not require voices of support because its dominance can withstand any amount of disapproval, but it is not immune from criticism, even if such judgements can be fancifully rebuffed as sexist, snobbish or pretentious. Besides this hugely successful genre would be foolish to discount all of the constructive negativity it does not receive from a powerful authority that doesn't exist. The reason Mills & Boon products are not favourably compared to Jane Austen or the poems of John Donne is not a result of institutionalised sexism, but because modern romance does not favourably compare to anything critics think highly of. Nevertheless, there are acclaimed authors writing love stories with happy endings, and their recognition elevates them above genre, but in the homogenized world of Harlequin plaudits are earned through quantity. The majority of Mills & Boon novelists churn out more books in a year than Austen managed in her lifetime. Carefully-plotted stories, strong characters and believable dialogue are not organic by-products of this profit-driven, slapdash approach.

There is, of course, another flaw to the pro-Romance rhetoric. The disparagement it has received over the last few decades has a degree of justification. While Mills & Boon has staked its place as the least the genre has to offer, the examples to have broken into the public consciousness have been met with equal disdain. The Twilight and Fifty Shades series are not the ambassadors the genre would have chosen for emotional depth and strong female role models. Both are ineptly-written, sexist and tedious reads with poorly-drawn characters and narratively-redundant sequences. As a consequence Romance fiction has to stand up for itself once again, pushing readers to seek out the finest quality erotic and paranormal fantasies available. Yet it is understandable that those in need of convincing will not want to sacrifice anymore time on being convinced.

Romance has taught us many things. Thick eyelashes are a man’s most essential body part. Beautiful twenty-seven year old virgins are plentiful. Blackmail always leads to eternal love. Still, the life-altering epiphany that the genre is responsible for is that love is difficult and rewarding. Firstly, because the ideal man is attempting to tear down the wildlife park your adoptive parents fought their lives to preserve so he can build luxury casinos. Secondly, because in his arrogance he has offered you the money you need to save the animals in exchange for sex. Thirdly, because he is secretly a royal prince of a small island on the French Riviera. Finally, love takes courage, faith in yourself, faith in the most handsome billionaire you have ever seen, and a confidence that happiness is there for those who open themselves to experience it. Believing in your favourite genre requires faith that if the proof of Romance fiction’s brilliance is out there critics and a wider readership will discover where the good stuff has been hiding and know the difference.

"He didn't think Jewel was the type of women to care that he was royalty"

Every so often someone speaks out in defence of Romance Fiction. This is usually unnecessary, apropos of nothing and achieving of little. Despite this, as long as there are those who negatively criticise there will be others responding with the positivity and evidence that not everything is awful. To coincide with the month of St. Valentine, National Public Radio have offered Don't Hide The Harlequins, an essay by Wisconsin's favourite daughter, Bobbi Dumas, a reviewer for Kirkus Media and a founding contributing editor of HowToWriteShop.com. Let's meet her. 'Hi, my name's Bobbi.' Hi, Bobbi! 'I read romance.' This is an excellent start, but enough small-talk, we should begin the article by naming the first romantic novel we ever read at the tender age of twelve. 'I saw the book — The Fortunes of Love by Caroline Courtney — in a library, and I was hooked by the cover. Something about that man and that woman — his enigmatic hover, her sideways glance — spoke to me. This was a couple who was meant to be together but hadn't figured it out yet. They were attracted but distrustful.'

Caroline Courtney was an early pseudonym of the late Penny Jordan and The Fortunes of Love was first published in 1980 by Warner Books. It tells the tale of The Duke of Strathavon, who may have the ladies of Bath all agog, but his charms have no effect on Davinia Sinclair, because a gypsy had told her she would marry a man whose name began with M, possibly the dashing treasure-hunter Lord Maunsell. What unfolds is presumably predictable, the feisty Regency heroine and her wealthy pursuer finding love against all the odds. Nevertheless, the child Bobbi Dumas was hooked. 'This book was what I'd been looking for, a glimpse into the commingled elation and vulnerability of falling in love, losing that love, regaining it.' Finally, a tawdry nineteenth century-set love story every twelve year old girl can relate to.

What was it that struck such a chord with Bobbi Dumas that her affection for romance has lasted a lifetime? 'It was emotional and sweet and scary, and the moment those characters admitted their love for each other in the end, after everything, in spite of everything — because of everything — I felt such bittersweet joy. They were together, happy, in love.' This sounds delightful and not dissimilar to what Mills & Boon authors often attempt in their own novels, but just as in real life one happy ending is never enough. 'It was a romantic rush, but the book was over — so I went to find another one.' Dumas' brief autobiographical insight will sound familiar to anyone fighting on the battleground either for or against addiction to romance fiction. Dependency begins innocently enough, a trip to the library, an intriguing semi-erotic photograph, some staring at words, a dizzying high and then the painful withdrawal. Like jazz music or the films of Michael Bay, Romance is the pinnacle of the literary medium. 'Once you go romantic you'll never go back tic,' as the saying goes. Reading is no longer reading unless it concludes with two people locked in an eternal embrace, blissful and perpetually pregnant.

As we know from bitter experience, of course, a romance fan's journey is never complete without a little antagonism from the usual places. 'My mom, a teacher, thought romances were beneath me. My school librarian gave me her disapproving look when I checked out more romances from the bookmobile. And my best friend's mother told me I should be ashamed for reading such trash.' Romance is not all roses, chocolates, thick eyelashes, sunshine and glistening forearms. No guilty pleasure comes without a certain amount of guilt attached. Peers and superiors are sure to find fault with reading habits that fall below an intellectual threshold of their own definition. Unless we are challenging ourselves how shall we ever improve? Bobbi Dumas has found a strong defence, however, by using impressively long words and casually insulting other genres. 'I was fascinated, by the road-to-love storylines, and the psychological metamorphoses that had to take place in order to overcome internal and external conflicts, so that these two people could earn their happily ever after. To me, those were every bit as interesting as my mother's whodunnits or my sister's sci-fi and fantasy excursions — and far more touching!' Precisely, there are no emotional journeys in genres besides romance, unless by psychological metamorphoses Bobby Dumas means a character arc, because those are a fundamental cornerstone of every story.

Nevertheless, pointing out that Pride and Prejudice is a romance, with all the alpha masculinity, nipple pebbling and supermarket baby cooing fans have come to expect from the genre, does not alleviate the guilt from all the negative connotations associated with Mills & Boon. But why? 'Why is our devotion to this lovely, affirming storytelling something we should hide, or apologize for?' Exactly, Bobbi. Why? 'Why this intellectual idea that romance is something to look down on? We know that many intelligent, educated women read it.' The sales figures speak for themselves, thus explaining why articles have stopped quoting the large sums of money earned last year. There are indications that Dumas is building towards the perceptive piece of wisdom that will reveal why romance is enjoyed by billions of people and scorned by everyone else. Unfortunately, expecting a Happily Ever After from an essay about romance fiction is misguided, at best.

Perhaps there are no reasons because there is no actual problem. If Dumas ever did feel ashamed it was probably due to being twelve. She certainly does not feel ashamed nowadays. Instead she is so proud to proclaim her love for romance fiction that she has penned an editorial for NPR. Generally, her fellow love junkies are not embarrassed by their bookshelves either. Equally importantly, perhaps, the genre is not critically disparaged, although the blandly homogenized, mass produced mainstream of it is, but this is the case with every area of culture. When it comes to the most fervent voices of disdain and ridicule the solution is the obvious combination of saturation and political manipulation. 'Even if you don't read romances, there's a lot to be proud of in a successful industry that is so dominated and influenced by women. In romance, we are the creators, the intended audience and the receptive consumer, showing our appreciation through astronomical sales. Female writers writing for female readers about traditionally female interests.' The advice for those who avoid the genre due to the negative opinions of teachers, mothers and school librarians is to ignore all that and try reading one for yourself. As for those dismissive teachers, mothers and school librarians, who knows what their problems are. Maybe they are bad feminists or science fiction fans, or a mixture of the two. Dumas may not be able to offer any explanations, but she does suggest further reading for anyone convinced enough by a message of follow your heart, ignore your elders and just stop pretending you are better than this.