Little girls like Prince Charming. Grown women like a different sort of man—a man with a little more edge, a little more stubbornness and grit. Prince Charming can sweep you off your feet, plucking you from your tragic backstory and escorting you into another life that’s shiny and new. But it takes a true hero to step up to be your equal, not your rescuer. To share your battles and take them seriously instead of brushing them all away. To appreciate and value you for who you are, rather than “saving” you from yourself by turning you into someone else. These grumps with hearts of gold prove themselves as worthy heroes by showing the women they love that they are and always have been heroines in their own right.

In Sarah Morgenthaler’s The Tourist Attraction, Zoey Caldwell certainly doesn’t think of herself as a heroine, even on the dreamiest of all dream vacations, visiting the Alaska wilderness she’s saved every penny to see. Though she’s visibly out of place with the ultra-rich jet setting crowd that fills the exclusive Moose Springs resort, she couldn’t be happier to soak up every experience, including a meal at the infamous local diner The Tourist Trap, run by grumpy local Graham Barnett. Graham hates tourists—with good reason. And after a series of mishaps that include an energetic kick to somewhere . . . indelicate on their second meeting, Zoey’s not exactly going out of her way to make a great impression. Yet it’s clear that she dazzles him from the start. Before he knows it, Graham’s breaking all of his rules: taking her to the best dives known only to the locals, going on godawful expeditions with her just to make her happy, and, most dangerous of all, giving his heart away to a woman who’ll be leaving after two weeks.

Graham’s soft heart makes an earlier appearance than you might expect given his forbidding demeanor, but that’s just because Zoey is so irresistibly charming, walking around with her own heart on her sleeve as she practically vibrates with love for his beautiful hometown. Graham warms to her quickly, but that doesn’t mean his rough edges have gone away, or that their love is destined for smooth sailing. (There is, in fact, a bout of very rough sailing that is simultaneously one of the cutest and grossest scenes of the book.) As with any good romance, it’s Graham and Zoey’s imperfections that make them such a perfect match, bringing out new sides of each other and opening each other’s eyes to new experiences, new perspectives and a new belief that love might actually be able to conquer all.

By contrast, the hero of A Duke by Any Other Name by Grace Burrowes is very slow to succumb to the charms of the heroine. In fact, it takes an invasion of pigs (not flying, sadly) before Nathaniel Rothmere, the Duke of Rothhaven, deigns to give Lady Althea Wentworth the time of day. Leaning hard into his reputation as Yorkshire’s leading crank/recluse, he has no visitors, pays no calls, shows no courtesies and gives not a flying fig for anyone’s opinion—which means, of course, that the town views him with great admiration and awe. It’s a position Althea desperately envies. Although she’s the beautiful, well-educated, extremely wealthy sister of a duke, her position is lower than low among the ton who resent her rise from poverty and obscurity, who seize every opening to deliver another petty, nasty, viciously “civilized” slight.

Turning to Nathaniel for advice is roughly akin to sticking her head in a lion’s mouth, but she’s desperate enough to try, and both bold and clever enough to succeed. He spars with her, in spite of himself. He likes her, in spite of himself. He even counsels her, giving really awesome advice in the process. (I now know precisely how to give the cut direct: “You notice, you hold in a contempt too vast for words, you dismiss.”) But even when love finds him—despite all the literal and metaphorical walls he’s hidden behind—the twisted bonds of a dark family secret mean he can’t give in to what he feels. Here again we see how the hero needs the heroine, how the only counterbalance for his darkness is her light, and how in turn his grounded nature helps to set her free.

As you might expect from two such strong and determined characters, the sparks that fly between Nathaniel and Althea are undeniably fierce. Their banter is quick-paced and witty, sharp as a fencing foil. Sharp too is the edge with which Burrowes portrays their circumstances. Both were victims of shocking cruelty from their earliest years. The story touches on themes of violent parental abuse, exploitation of physical and psychological disabilities and even child prostitution. But these heavy shadows are balanced by the honor and kindness Nicholas and Althea demonstrate, the warmth and dedication they give to each other and to their families and, most of all, by the beautiful love they slowly build and (even more slowly) accept between them.

I am a military brat who spent the first four years of my life on a base in Hanau, Germany. My grandmother sent me a care package once a week with Band-Aids, Scotch tape, McDonaldland cookies and a letter. So began my love of epistolary relationships. As an adult, I write regular letters to our son and his friends in college and send postcards to friends from my adventures around the world. It’s thrilling to see epistolary relationships in literature. Some people may think sending letters is outdated, but when we are far from those we love, letters offer a lifeline. Not since Nick Bantock’s Griffin and Sabine series have I found two such charming stories of love and romance and notes.

British author Jenny Colgan’s 500 Miles From You made me smile from start to finish. Written in three parts, it’s a charming yarn from across the pond. Despite the sad circumstances that introduce us to nurse Lissa Westcott, this is a hopeful, beautifully written story. On a day that changes her life forever, Lissa witnesses a hit-and-run accident that kills Kai, a young man she knows. She accompanies him to the hospital, performing CPR all the while, yet he still dies. Five hundred and eighty-three miles north by northwest is Cormac MacPherson, an army veteran and nurse/paramedic.

Lissa’s unsuccesful struggle to save Kai’s life results in a signficant mental cost for her. In an attempt to help Lissa “recalibrate” and deal with her trauma, her company sends her to a tiny town in the Scottish Highlands. Cormac’s town. The result, of course, is that he swaps places with her in London. Despite the carrot dangled in front of him for moving up the corporate ladder, Cormac knows the exchange program is a way to send the “burnouts” to the countryside to recuperate. But as it turns out, the exchange program was the right move. In working together over email, consulting on cases and learning about each other, Cormac and Lissa click.

Historical romances often use notes and letters as a device for conversation, and though Colgan uses electronic mail rather than snail mail, she creates a refreshing, slow-building romance. Lissa and Cormac learn as much about themselves as they do each other, and despite the panic both face in deciding to actually speak on the phone or meet in person, the heart wants what the heart wants. This is a story that will make the reader’s heart sigh.

Tash Skilton’s Ghosting: A Love Story is another lighthearted epistolary tale with a very modern, youthful vibe. There are so many things that work in this refreshing contemporary romance by first-time collaborators Sarvenaz Tash and Sarah Skilton. It’s part Sleepless in Seattle, part Roxanne and part “Friends.” It’s a perfect, ’90s-esque enemies-to-lovers rom-com, but for the new millennium.

Miles Ibrahim and Zoey Abot are ghostwriters who work for competing online dating sites in New York City. They spend their workdays in the digital realm, meeting, flirting and messaging clients. IRL, however, native New Yorker Miles vacillates between fury and heartbreak over his recent breakup with his fiancé, who’s now pregnant (and suspiciously farther along than originally purported). New-to-town Zoey feels unwelcome, and yearns for space to herself and room to breathe.

Skilton weaves a tale full of pop-culture references, meet-cutes and geek-speak that will be like catnip to digital natives. The dialogue is quick, snappy and smart. Readers need to be as up on their literary references (Miles refers to his parents’ relationship as a “Capulet/Montague saga”) as they are on their Instagrammable moments. Miles is Egyptian American and Jewish, and refers to himself as a “millennial multitasking Jewslim,” and Zoey is Filipina American; they are the embodiment of the multicultural time and place in which they’re falling in love.

Between two sets of families, friends and dating app clients, there are admittedly a lot of characters to keep up with. It’s prophetic that their respective clients, Bree and Jude, fall for each other; they are, after all, somewhat alternate versions of Miles and Zoey. The steady tension of Miles continuing to dwell on his broken engagement, and Zoey learning that her frenemy Miles is the online personality she fell for, slows the pace somewhat. But it’s hard to hold it against this young, trendy and effortlessly cool debut.

Practical work to build a long-lasting romance leads to a guaranteed HEA for the couples in these three love stories.

★ About a Rogue

A marriage of convenience becomes more in About a Rogue, the latest historical romance by Caroline Linden. As one of three men in line for a dukedom, Maximilian St. James is exhorted to rehabilitate his reputation. Max, wallet empty and ever the pragmatist, offers marriage to the elder daughter of a successful ceramics maker. But after his intended elopes with someone else, he ends up “I do”-ing with her younger sister, Bianca. Watching them go from cool companions to passionate husband and wife is warmly satisfying. There is no hot flash of insta-lust or even the slow burn of banked longing. Instead, true regard grows naturally as Max and Bianca learn about each other through work, friends and shared interests.

Just a Heartbeat Away

Cara Bastone delivers a cozy and charming Brooklyn-set romance in Just a Heartbeat Away. After his wife’s death, Sebastian Dorner shifted his life to focus on his young son. While serving as lunch monitor at his son’s elementary school, he’s surprised by the sparks that fly between him and school counselor Via DeRosa. But she’s got a boyfriend, and Seb’s convinced their 15-year age gap is a deal breaker. However, the pair bumps into each other so often at school and in their shared neighborhood that the attraction grows unstoppable. Bastone explores universal themes of grief, love and parenthood through Seb’s and Via’s relatable fears and hang-ups in this heartwarming story.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Vanessa Riley opens up about what she’d like to see more of historical romance.

A Duke, the Lady, and a Baby

A secret group dedicated to helping ill-­treated widows takes up the case of West Indian heiress Patience Jordan in A Duke, the Lady, and a Baby by Vanessa Riley. Patience is determined to reunite with her infant son and return to her island home. But the arrival of her son’s guardian, a heroic soldier and powerful duke named Busick Strathmore, means she must masquerade as the child’s nanny until she can secure their escape. Riley opens up the world of Regency romance by depicting a heroine whose society views her as the Other and pairing her with a powerful man whose war wounds now cause him to see himself differently. There’s wordplay and swordplay in this not-to-be-missed romance, plus subtle love scenes that prove Patience and Busick’s mettle as helpmeets and lovers.

The celebrity or public figure love interest has long been a popular staple of the romance genre. What’s nice about this particular trope is that it evolves with the times, and with new social contexts comes renewed relevance. That’s definitely the case as these two romantic comedies by bestselling authors shine a spotlight on the agony and the ecstasy of love in the 21st century public eye. The results are entertaining and enlightening. Both books weave solid doses of social observation and critique in with the love story, and both center characters dealing with the complications of being in the public eye while belonging to a marginalized group.

Jasmine Guillory’s Party of Two is a sweet and gently funny interracial romance about Olivia, an African American lawyer who dearly prizes her privacy and yet can’t helping falling for a wealthy, high profile white United States Senator. Max is simply delicious—handsome, smart and smitten, with a penchant for courting with baked goods—but getting entangled with him threatens to upturn Olivia’s carefully guarded life. The book follows their efforts to get to know each other and have a normal romantic relationship outside of the spotlight.

Though Max and Olivia navigate rarefied social worlds, this might be the most relatable of Guillory’s novels so far. It’s definitely the one most grounded in social reality. It is easy to connect with Olivia’s conundrum: She meets the man of her dreams, but finds that he comes with a lot of baggage and constraints that make a relationship with him far from ideal. That could be a relationship killer no matter how dreamy the guy may seem.

Guillory also ably addresses how race influences Olivia’s response to Max and how it exacerbates the difficulty of being in the public spotlight. Olivia researches Max’s social media and his political positions before agreeing to go out with him. His stance on Black Lives Matter, for example, was a potential deal breaker (turns out, they are both strong supporters). Now more than ever, that totally tracks.

Olivia and Max actually have a lot in common. They’re both accomplished in their own right. He’s a socially conscious, liberal senator and Olivia is an idealistic, Harvard-educated lawyer starting her own practice after making partner in a large, frustrating firm. But as a Black woman, Olivia is subject to more scrutiny from the public and the press than Max, or than she would be if she were white. Guillory skillfully portrays the nuances of Olivia’s social position and the precariousness of her privilege. Though the book takes place in the United States and not the U.K., Olivia and Max’s relationship contains definite parallels to the relationship between Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. Having watched one of the world’s most beautiful and accomplished women get virtually maimed by the tabloids, it’s not hard to imagine that a woman who has worked hard to overcome obstacles wouldn’t want to subject herself to similarly intense public scrutiny.

That said, despite its adept handling of its subject matter, a few elements didn’t entirely gel. The novel is strangely cagey about Max’s political party. It’s obvious that he’s a Democrat, but only through allusion. In a politically themed novel, the party names never appear, which is distracting and seems overly cautious in the current political moment. The characters’ internal monologues can also be a bit awkward at times. Those issues aside, I was happy to spend time in this world, and the issues and conflicts the couple navigate resonated. Party of Two is easily Guillory’s best book to date, and fans of the series will be thrilled with this entry and the growth Guillory displays as a writer.

While Party of Two looks at life in the eye of the political storm, Alexis Hall’s Boyfriend Material offers an entree into the treacherous world of celebrities and dating as reputation management. Luc, the lead character, is the child of a notoriously dissolute and neglectful rock star. His relationship with his lout of a father is nonexistent and has been nearly all his life. As a result of their estrangement, Luc has experienced almost none of the privileges of fame, but must manage all of the public scrutiny that comes with being the child of a famous person. His every move is hounded, his every breakup and alcohol-infused misstep fodder for the tabloids.

Herein lies the beauty of Hall’s novel. The fake-dating trope can be challenging to do well; it comes with a high bar for believability. There has to be a good reason why, in the year 2020, anyone would feel such social pressure that they would put the effort into constructing a fake relationship for public consumption. Boyfriend Material doesn’t merely meet that bar; it leaps over it with room to spare. Hall gives us a hero with a PR problem that actually matters.

The crux of the issue is that Luc has a tabloid life, but his career demands he live up to a fairy-tale ideal. As the lead campaigner for an obscure but important environmental charity, Luc’s job relies on the public’s goodwill for its success. Being the living embodiment of scandal is not just inconvenient or embarrassing. It’s a career killer. Big donors don’t like their money being associated with impropriety; their contributions are meant to burnish images, not tarnish them.

As a result, Luc’s presence in the tabloids is taking a real toll on the charity’s bottom line. The fact that Luc is a gay man further complicates his celebrity and notoriety. In theory, his sexuality should be irrelevant. His employer’s donors are proudly and loudly liberal. But in practice, Luc finds that attaining respectability is harder as a gay man. Because of society’s problematic double standards, Luc needs to show that he is the “right kind” of gay person, meaning that he’s neither promiscuous nor dissolute. Boyfriend Material deftly names and shames the hypocrisy in which being gay is great, as long as you strictly hew to traditionally heteronormative and conservative standards of behavior, lest you become a “bad gay.” Enter the fake boyfriend Oliver, a highly respected barrister who is as buttoned up as Luc is messy. Luc rightly bristles at the idea that he needs someone like Oliver at his side to do his job:

“Okay so”—Priya seemed a tad frustrated with me—“when you said a man, any man, you actually meant any man who fits into a very narrow, middle-class, and slightly heteronormative definition of acceptability.”
“Yes.”

All of this could get terribly heavy, but in Hall’s expert hands, it doesn’t. The critique of respectability politics as applied to the queer community runs throughout the book, but it never derails or detracts from Luc and Oliver’s story; it deepens it.

Another factor in the book’s success is the fact that these opposites have excellent chemistry, and their banter is first class. Hall positively insists that readers laugh and think at the same time. Every other sentence elicits a chuckle, but the laughs are continually tied to insight. The result is both laugh-out-loud funny and authentic.

Perhaps the best way to capture the magic of Boyfriend Material is to think of it as a literary, millennial version of a 1930s screwball comedy. The writing is vivid and visual like a movie, and the requisite elements—absurd situations, a seemingly mismatched couple, disguise and secrecy—are all there,  though the true pandemonium is mostly confined to Luc’s hyper-aware and anxious brain. The tight-knit, hilarious ensemble of coworkers, friends and family surrounding Luc and Oliver are reminiscent of Richard Curtis’ brilliant romantic comedies Four Weddings and a Funeral and Notting Hill.

Both Party of Two and Boyfriend Material are romances worth reading and thinking about. They tell sweet, funny and deeply romantic stories while exploring the challenges and contradictions of public and private life in the 21st century.