"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.