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A perfectly sweet - in every sense of the word - romance that is no way believable, but very readable and cute. The setup is preposterous: a failing British production company has the chance to win a commission for a documentary series on "the romance industry" (whatever that is), but only if they get sexy economist Simon Valentine to present it. Because when you think romance you think prime derivatives and interest rates.

Not only that, but the company puts an assistant, Clara, in charge of bagging Simon. Not the producer, not the head of the company, but the assistant. Sorry, not in any real world of which I am aware.

Still, Clara is kooky adorable with her musical theatre obsession, and the reader roots for her. Simon is less successful as a character - he's your typical stick up the butt stuffed shirt who disdains the kooky, but of course succumbs to its charm - but you have to love a book that manages to squeeze scenes set in London, Paris, a tropical island in the Indian Ocean, and a snowbound cottage in the Scottish highlands into its slim page count.

A mindless quick read. And for anyone embarrassed by explicit description, Fifty Shades this ain't. The curtain is discreetly drawn.