(Coughing to cue my fellow readers to stopping yapping over coffee . . .)

Hello. My name is Amelia.

And I'm a romance novel addict.

(Response, "Hi, Amelia.)

That wasn't so hard.

This next part is going to be more difficult.

As that celebration of coupled love - Valentine's Day - approaches, I felt there was no better time for this post.

Given some of my previous posts, it would be natural to assume that I am a discriminating reader. While I'd like to think of myself as a reader with tastes worthy of the NPR Book Blog, that would be a lie of unholy proportions.

Because, ladies and gentlemen, I am a romance novel addict.

And not just your upper-scale chick-lit.

I have owned several busty-fronted Harlequin covers and admit to having read them front to back multiple times.

There are indeed Nora Roberts epics, Sherryl Woods trilogies and Jennifer Cruise crumbles taking up space on my permanent bookshelves.

And many Valentine's past I could be found munching on Russell Stover's, sniffling, reading some tale of a prince that I was pretty well convinced wasn't ever going to come my way. Literally and figuratively.

No, I'm not sober yet, even now that I'm happily coupled.

But, as someone addicted to arguably some of the worst writing to leave a publishers' press, I think I'm in a position to give some advice.

Established authors of Her Heart's Desire and The Highland Hussy heed me!

Novice scribes churning out Brazenly Yours and The Beauty's Beau lend me your ears and preferably pens!

Beginners testing out that first sex scene with Jorge, the troubled but sensitive heir to some forgotten Spanish Throne and Zelphia, the quirky but uber-attractive librarian-turned-pirate queen, hear now!

These are a Romance Novel Addict's Cliches to Please God, Avoid!

1) Raoul, Sebastian, Chase or Eduardo.

Yes, we are living in the age of names like Apple, Suri, and Pax. But really? How man Raouls did you have growing up down the block from you? Maybe you had some. Good for you. But I think not.

I would have thought the exotically named but still approachable sex-pot went out with Tyrone Power (and look how well that turned out for the ladies. Gay guys, well their fantasties were a bit more realistic now that I think about it.) Give the weird names a rest.

2) Philadelphia, Desdemona, Cleopatra, and Ruby.

Similar argument to above. There are other ways to demonstrate your character's uniqueness than just giving them some outlandish moniker. That this comes from someone with the legal name "Amelia," take heed.

3) Eating things off one another during the heat of passion.

This one comes from my best friend - a woman far more incisive in sexual matters than yours truly. To sum up our epic critique of this love-game: Sticky, smelly and who wants to stop what you're doing to wash.

Smearing chocolate, cream, honey or any other substance all over another is probably a better idea in theory than in practice. And I remember one incredibly drawn-out scene that involved spaghetti sauce in the heroine's long black hair and oysters placed in spots no oyster should ever go. I don't want to imagine cleaning that up. Ick. Simple Ick.

4) "She came like a geyser."

That is an actual quotation from a romance novel that need not be named. I read that line to my boyfriend in the earlier days of our courtship. His response was, "Really? Seriously? Came like a geyser?" I don't know what sex that heroine was having. But "a geyser?"

My own inclination is to compare the joy of full-on canoodling to pigs enjoying a mud bath. Primal, unsophisticated, clumsy and a tad messy. I appreciate the need to dress up sex up. Who wants to read a scene that is "primal, unsophisticated, clumsy and a tad messy?"

Keep the expectations a little more real, my dear authors, lest you be laughed out of the room. If the writing even remotely smacks of the outlandish, back away from the orgasmic adjectives.

5) The heavy-handed hero who is secretly as sensitive as the Tim Gunn.

You can't have it both ways. I can't begin to recall how many times I've read a smut novel with a hero who in one scene hauls Brunhilda up on his shoulder to end an argument but who then turns into a straight Will Truman with Godiva and candles in the next.

Maybe women secretly do long for a man to take charge but then quote Keats. But that's about as real as the Easter Bunny dropping off gold bars and Microsoft stock options. Let your heroes be clods if needed! Let them be real, not ideal!

And, gentleman, rakes and scions of made-up industries, I'm really not interested in your "troubled pasts," that usually equal 1) a bitch done you wrong, 2) Daddy left or done you wrong, or 3) somebody screwed you over. Can we have a real problem like, "I'm getting laid off," "I'm caring for an aging parent," "My dog died?"

6) The stereotypical gay friend.

This character is also known - in the words of my best friend - "the gay guy who is only there to act as a bitching post."

This is the person who coaches our heroine into being a total sex-bomb or who comforts her ala a good "fairy" godmother when the hero doesn't get it. They even buy lingerie for her.

Please, people! We don't all live in an episode of Will and Grace or chapter of Bridget Jones' Diary. Gay guys are three-dimensional people too! And why not a lesbian best friend? Any takers?

7) The introverted bookworm who magically becomes a sex-pot is sooooooooooooo over.

Can I get you all a copy of The Feminine Mystique?

Maybe the transcripts from the Seneca Falls Convention?

The mousey heroine is usually a wall-flower, librarian, or other stereotypical frump who never went to prom and usually gets overlooked until her transformation. I often picture it when reading romance novels as something akin to sex reassignment surgery. Off comes the Frumpage and on goes the Hotness.

Not appealing, folks. Seems painful. And probably involves contorted underwear.

If we're trying to convince women to appreciate what the Divine being gave them, then lets use our descriptive powers to paint real, flawed but fantastic heroines. And the sexual prowess of what's between our legs isn't the be-all-end-all of attraction! Who's with me? (Crickets chirping ominously.)

8) The education of the naive female sexually by the virile hero.

Sooooooooooooo outdated.

And, ladies and gentleman of the romantic pen, patronizing.

Even if a woman isn't sexually experienced at an older age, that doesn't mean she doesn't read Cosmopolitan or (gasp) look at porn etc. to educate herself about sex. It's damned irritating to think women are so foolish as to need a "skilled" male tutor. Welcome to the 21st Century, folks!

9) The single dad with the scampering, precocious kids.

A fixture in romance novels from Regency bodice rippers to the Cheseapeke Shores Series of Sherryl Woods, this one. And one lacking in reality.

Children are not always charming. They don't usually scamper. They aren't generally precocious. The wonderful relationship is usually something that takes years to build for both the father character and the newly invested heroine.

If it ever happens.

There are plenty of kids who hate Step-Mama. Forever.

I just don't buy in a few short chapters that the new step-mama and papa overcome all that baggage to have this amazing relationship the little ones. Let's introduce some conflict - some major conflict!

(Are we picking up on my 'For the love of God, give your characters some texture theme yet?)(Same can be applied to single mom stories. Guys don't always fall in love with Junior either.)

10) The idyllic suburb or small town where the heroine abandons her ambition.

I have lived and worked in a large city, small dying but plucky town and the morass that is a Chicago suburb. No place is as nice as any place described in a romance novel. Ever. There are school district bus battles, beheaded lawn gnomes, and ugly battles over property line bushes.

Since the idyllic town or suburb usually leads to our heroine leaving a big, bad city and any ambition she had, I'm defintely not a fan.

My biggest complaint with this cliche' is that the heroine almost always bows out of her high-powered career when she decides to "follow her heart and stay in heaven" i.e. Rose Bay, Moonhaven, or whatever the name of the utopian small town or suburban location is.

At a time when women are advancing in most fields, outgunning men academically and slowing putting more cracks in the glass ceiling, why are our writers taking us back a step? Why can't we write about the woman who manages to be a kick-ass litigator, yoga master and mom? Why does she have to move to Lovers Bay to open a bakery with Mr. Right? Why can't Mr. Right move to Chicago while she becomes managing partner of her practice?

Maybe neither scenario is realistic but at least one is encouraging high-powered female achievement.

11)  Throbbing Manhood. Throbbing or Pulsing Shaft. Turgid Shaft. Aching nipples. Honey pot. Dewy petals. Pouting nether lips. (Do I have to explain, really?)

Some are likely to take issue with my cliches. Cool.

It is my hope they encourage debate about what makes a good smut novel. And maybe helps in the writing of new ones to come.

We could use more of them. Good ones, that is.

I plan to pick up one after this list is posted to indulge in what I consider mind-booze.

But, even as I indulge, I keep in mind the words of a writing professor I had - a very angsty but astute Italian poet, paraphrased due to bad and lazy memory: "You have to think about, 'Is this honest.' You have to be willing to say, 'This is shit.'"

Happy reading and very "romantic writing" on this Valentine's Day.