From Bridgerton to Heated Rivalry, what’s the secret to a good book-to-TV romance?

Outside of classics like Pride and Prejudice, romance fiction has not historically been adapted often for the screen, despite its immense popularity.

The success of Bridgerton (2020–) led to countless articles about what romance novels should be adapted for the screen next when it first premiered.

Now more and more romance adaptations are starting to appear – but what makes the translation from page to screen really sing?

The history of romance novel adaptations

Romance adaptations have given us cultural juggernauts, such as Twilight (2008–12), Fifty Shades of Grey (2015–18) and To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018–21).

But romance adaptations have historically been low-budget and escaped mainstream notice.

Authors like Nora Roberts and Debbie Macomber have proved fruitful grounds for made-for-TV adaptations by Hallmark and Lifetime. Passionflix entered the streaming market in 2017 with the sole purpose to adapt romance novels – including Lick (2024) by Australian author Kylie Scott.

Canadian streamer Crave has turned several romances into TV movies, such as Recipe for Romance (2025), an adaptation of Sweet on You by Filipino author Carla de Guzman. Amazon has also joined the game.

The proportion of books that have made it to the screen (and into cultural conversation) is still small. But the needle is moving. This year sees adaptations of Ali Hazelwood’s The Love Hypothesis, Katherine Center’s The Bodyguard, Elle Kennedy’s Off Campus and Emily Henry’s People We Meet On Vacation.

This is to say nothing of the game-changing popularity of a romance adaptation by Crave released late in 2025: Heated Rivalry.

While it has always been popular, romance has become too prominent to ignore: BookTok and Bookstagram have made romance – and its enormous audience – more visible than ever before.

What makes a good romance adaptation?

Romance readers will embrace or reject an adaptation depending on whether the creators love and respect the genre or misunderstand and misrepresent it – or, worse, condescend to and exploit it.

Heated Rivalry shows what happens when a creator truly, in romance critic Olivia Waite’s words, “accept[s] romance’s invitations”.

Rival hockey players Shane Hollander (Hudson Williams) and Ilya Rozanov (Connor Storrie) commence a clandestine affair as rookies and gradually fall in love. The series has surpassed 600 million viewing minutes and shows no sign of slowing down.

It has been so successful that Netflix promised the new season of Bridgerton would take audiences to “the cottage”: a reference to that series’ third episode – and a term now synonymous with Heated Rivalry’s finale and happy ending.

The happy ending is crucial to the romance genre, but it is not the only thing Heated Rivalry gets right. While not all romance novel adaptations should be carbon copies of this series, anyone considering adapting romance for the screen in future would be well served to look at what it does right.

Romance novels are stories of a small, compact universe. At the centre is a couple (or polycule’s) attraction and journey towards a serious relationship. Sub-plots and supporting characters matter to the extent that they are part of this journey. In a romance, the leads are all romance fans care about.

This is something Bridgerton has struggled with. While it centres a new lead couple each season, it is also concerned with servicing the plotlines of past and future leads. This has led to a proliferation of subplots, which often distract from the romantic spine.

Heated Rivalry consistently centres Shane and Ilya. Taking place over ten years, during which period both men presumably live full lives, creator Jacob Tierney spotlights the sporadic, stolen moments they are together. The secondary romance between hockey player Scott Hunter (François Arnaud) and his secret smoothie barista boyfriend Kip (Robbie CK) is mostly siloed to its own self-contained episode, with its relevance to the main plot made crystal clear at the end of episode five.

The love plot must be central, and must be treated with the deepest sincerity and gravity. Romance is an inherently earnest genre. It is often funny, but it is never ironic.

Red, White & Royal Blue (2023), adapted from Casey McQuiston’s book, received mixed reviews for glossing over many of the book’s complexities. But one of its successes is treating the high-concept love plot between a British prince and the son of the United States president seriously. (Their happy ending is bound up with a broader political one: a successful US re-election representing a liberal wing; the potential promise of a more progressive monarchy.)

The love at the romance novel’s heart – and the attendant joy and hope of the happy ending – is serious business, and must be treated as such for an adaptation to succeed.

This aspect of romance is often positioned as a “guilty pleasure”, something to be embarrassed by or make fun of, but it is hard to overstate how vital it is to the success of the form.

The worst mistake an adaptation of a romance can make is being ashamed of where it came from. Romance readers are well aware when someone is sneering at them, or trying to take advantage of the lucrative market they represent while trying to “elevate” the genre by chipping away at its core tenets and pleasures.

Heated Rivalry is the only adaptation that has entirely and wholeheartedly embraced the invitations of the romance genre, foregrounding romance and leaning pronouncedly into sincerity. We hope many more adaptations will learn from it going forward.