This novel fails at every level. Let's begin with the facts. It's easier to count the few things right than to enumerate the multitude of mistakes. To take just one example, when Helen is thinking of her old home in Sparta, she says, "There were days when my heart ached for the familiar scent of eucalyptus. How I longed to revisit the sacred grove." Since eucalyptus grew only in Australia, which was thousands of years away from being discovered, this is quite a feat of memory on her part. The author is unaware that only in the 19th century was eucalyptus exported and planted all over the world. Other 'facts' are just as haywire.
The information on the gods is incorrect and muddled, starting with the premise that Helen, being a daughter of Zeus, is immortal and cannot die, when everyone knows the offspring of a god and a mortal is always mortal. Otherwise Achilles could not die. But this does not bother the author, who wants to have it both ways. She also contends that the gods are just made up by humans, as if this did not negate the possibility that Helen was the daughter of Zeus, and...you see the problem.
Then, there is the anachronistic thinking and the numerous tired old cliche/tropes, the foremost being the women worshipping the Great Goddess (in secret) while being repressed by the Male Establishment, who promote Male God (here called 'the sky gods') worship. This was a new idea back in the early 1980s in "The Mists of Avalon" but since then has gotten moldy and is trotted out tiresomely in books such as "The Red Tent" and even the recent laughable Hercules miniseries. Enough already with this---for which serious historians admit there isn't a shred of evidence.
Another silly trope is that Paris is a Sensitive New Age Guy. He doesn't like to kill, see, except for food. This makes everyone look down on him and he don't get no respect.
All this might be forgiven if it worked as a novel, but it flunks this test, too. Helen is a conceited airhead, who by my count tells the reader 80 times how beautiful she is (about once every three pages, in case you forget). When she isn't trumpeting her charms, ("I had always known that no woman could compete with my immortal beauty and my desirability"), she's wallowing in self-pity. Everyone is jealous of her. Her family in Sparta is mean to her. The Trojan women don't like her---and you can certainly see why. A really repulsive character, except that she's so unreal she's just a cartoon. In spite of the feminist trappings, she has no life of her own and is totally passive and dependent on men for all her emotions, although the men are interchangable to her, like a teenager with serial crushes. Her many children are only names and she seems unaware of them.
Paris is a sort of lounge lizard (in spite of being a SNAG) and he and Helen make love every night for 15 years (!) and that's the extent of their relationship.
The Trojan War is made boring, and the author paints no picture of any landscapes or settings, so you have no sense of time or place. Since this is what a historical novel is supposed to do, this is a massive failure. The rest of the famous cast of characters---Achilles, Odysseus, Hector, and Priam---fare even worse than Helen and Paris in depiction.
So, missing factual and entertainment value, what does this novel offer? The one thing this Romance novel has in abundance is the usual generic array of props for this genre: lots of alabaster bottles of perfume, ("Then I anointed my body and hair with fragrant oils, perfuming my skin with an irresistably aromatic elixir and artfully applying my cosmetics"---she does this a lot), silken gowns of every color, 'exquisite' jewelry, padded gilded couches, heaps of sensuous food on bejeweled platters---in short, you have a 'Sex and Shopping' novel transported to the ancient world.
Stay away from this mess, or Zeus will punish you!