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.
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.
