Annie Halston attends the Annual Romance Writers Convention in San Francisco in the hopes of getting her new historical romance novel published!

"I don't believe it, Annie. You're actually going to meet Vanessa Drake, the famous romance writer? Here? Today? Now? In person?"

"Yes, I really am," replied Annie Halston, a little smile curving her lips as she looked at herself in the mirror above the dresser in the San Francisco hotel room. "I'm supposed to meet her down in the lounge at four o' clock, just twenty minutes from now."

"But you're so calm about it." Mary Martin gave her an envious look. "Ohmehgosh! I'd be so excited, and a nervous wreck too."

Annie laughed, smoothing the collar of her lime green blouse and checking the fit of her skirt. She shook back her mane of long blond hair over her shoulders. Satisfied with her appearance, she turned to Mary, whom she'd just met only a half hour ago down in the lobby when the two of them had checked into the hotel.

"Don't be silly," she said. "Why be nervous? Vanessa Drake is just an ordinary woman like you and me."

"Ordinary?" Mary sat down on one of the two beds across from the dresser. "Vanessa Drake is anything but ordinary. In less than five years she's had seven bestselling historical romance novels and has become the reigning Queen of Romance. She single-handedly brought back historical romance to the forefront in romance publishing. Jeez, she knocked all those suit-and-tie billionaires right out of the ball park. Everybody's writing historical again because of her. And on top of that, she's so mysterious. She's a recluse. No one knows anything about her. I'm surprised she decided to come to the convention because she hasn't attended any in the past. How in the world did you get to know her?"

Annie sat down on the bed across from Mary. "Please, the glut of billionaire books was just about strangling the romance genre. We girls like our men a whole lot more interesting, and sexy, than a bunch of neat-freak guys who sit behind desks. It was time for a change and Vanessa knew it. I write historical too and I liked her books so much that I wrote her a fan letter. She wrote back and we've been corresponding ever since."

"Lucky you," Mary said, obviously surprised. "I know several romance fans who wrote to Vanessa Drake but none of them received a reply, just a form letter thanking them for writing and an autographed bookmark. Popular writers like Ms. Drake are usually too busy to write back themselves."

Annie smiled. "She liked my letter. I guess I was more interesting than most of the fans who write to her, maybe because I'm an aspiring writer. She's given me a lot of pointers, too. I recently finished writing my first historical and I hope to find a publisher for it here at the convention. Vanessa suggested I come. She wants to meet me and she intends to introduce me to her editor."

"Wow, that's really awesome." Mary was clearly impressed. "We aspiring romance writers can sure use all the help we can get. It's such a tough industry to break into. There are so many wannabe writers. I haven't finished writing my first book yet. I'm really still learning how to write. But I think that attending the seminars and workshops here at the convention will be a big help."

Annie nodded in agreement. In their correspondence via letters and email, Vanessa Drake had stressed the importance of attending the Annual Romance Writers Convention for anyone aspiring to become a published romance writer. She had urged it so strongly that Annie had taken her vacation now in the spring, instead of the summer as usual, so she could come to the convention here at the St. Andrew's Hotel in San Francisco.

"All the big names in romance are here," she said to Mary, "and many of them will be speaking at the seminars and workshops. We're sure to learn a lot of important things about romance writing and publishing."

Mary nodded eagerly. "Right. And who knows, one of us might be the very next Queen of Romance."

Annie wondered if she could ever become that successful. She'd always wanted to be a writer, ever since childhood. But there had never seemed to be enough time to write during her college years and the career in advertising that had followed. But last year she had decided to put everything else aside. She became a recluse, holing up in her apartment every day after work and writing her first book, an epic historical romance. Last month, at long last, she'd finally completed it.

Now she wanted to get it published and continue to write a book each year in the years to come.

"You can be the next queen," she told Mary. "I'm like Ms. Drake, more the reclusive type. I wouldn't like all the notoriety, and she hates it. The only reason she's come to the convention is because her publisher has insisted on it. They're not satisfied with her just writing bestselling books. They want to make her a public figure, too."

"Of course they do. Everybody's dying to find out about her. Her books are so incredible, she's got to be a really interesting person herself. And coming out public will cause her books to sell millions of copies more. You'll have to tell me all about your meeting."

"Oh, have no fear, Mary. You bet I will."

Annie was happy to be sharing the hotel room with Mary for the four days of the convention. The convention committee had made arrangements for women coming to San Francisco alone to share rooms with others, and Annie knew she couldn't have gotten a nicer roommate.

Mary Martin was the same age as Annie, twenty-five, small and petite, cute rather than pretty, and she had a bubbly outgoing personality. Annie had learned earlier that Mary was a secretary for a mining company in Minnesota, a part of the country far removed from the hustle and bustle of New York City, where she lived.

Mary leaned forward. "What did you and Ms. Drake discuss in your letters?"

Annie smiled wickedly. "Oh, just about everything. Girl talk, you know. Usually I find it difficult to talk about personal things with strangers, but with Vanessa it was so easy. After we exchanged a couple letters, I felt like we were old friends."

Mary sighed dreamily. "She sounds wonderful. Where does she live?"

"In Colorado. An old mining town in the Rockies by the name of Telluride. It's quite a popular ski resort. She told me so much about the town that I feel like I know the place inside out."

"Well, I hope I get a chance to meet her, too," Mary said. "How will you know who she is? Do you have any idea what she looks like?"

"Not having photos of her out there, even on social media, has been part of her secretive nature. So, of course, she didn't send pictures, although I sent a couple of myself. But she described herself as being tall with black hair and blue eyes, and she said she'll be wearing a brown tweed blazer today, an old favorite left over from college days. I'll have to look for her name on the name tags everyone will be wearing. There are bound to be plenty of women here fitting that description."

"Speaking of name tags," Mary said. "You'd better pin yours on."

"Right. I guess I am excited. I forgot all about it."

Annie got up from the bed and went over to the dresser. She picked up the name tag she'd received earlier when registering for the convention downstairs in the ballroom.

Across the top was printed ANNUAL ROMANCE WRITERS CONVENTION, and below it her name and place of residence. Underneath that was a red heart denoting that she was an 'aspiring romance writer'.

As she pinned the tag onto her blouse, Annie hoped that at next year's convention she'd be wearing a green heart denoting that she was a 'published romance writer.'

She checked her wrist watch as she turned back to Mary. "I guess I'd better go downstairs to the lounge so I'm not late. Do I look okay?"

Mary glanced at Annie's tall shapely figure approvingly. "You look lovely. Are you sure you're an advertising copywriter and not a model?"

Annie smiled at the compliment. "Positive. Almost everyone I know tried to talk me into becoming a model. But I wanted to write, not pose."

"Well, you're on your way to becoming a published novel writer now," Mary told her. "With the help of Vanessa Drake, I'm sure you'll be the next bright star on the romance horizon. Good luck!"

Annie thanked her and left the room, wondering for a moment if the real reason she wanted to meet Vanessa Drake was because of the famous writer's connections in the publishing industry. But as she walked down the carpeted hallway, she assured herself that wasn't the reason at all. She wanted to meet Vanessa because she liked her. They'd become good friends through their correspondence. If the woman could help her to get published by introducing her to the right people, that would be just an extra added benefit of their friendship.

She felt a spring in her step and an excitement in her breast. She was glad she'd come to San Francisco, happy to be here at this annual gathering of successes and wannabes in the amazing romance publishing business. And she had every confidence that good luck was on her side. That, along with her talent in writing, which she positively believed in, would hopefully bring her only the best of possible experiences here at the St. Andrew's Hotel this convention weekend.

Annie arrived at the bank of elevators and pressed the down button, and one of the sets of doors opened almost immediately. The car there was crowded, mostly with women who were wearing the convention name tags. She managed to squeeze in, aware of all the eyes checking out her own tag. It was a game she knew everyone would be playing during the next four days, checking names in hope of seeing the famous writers who wrote the romantic tales that millions of readers around the world just couldn't get enough of.

Several people got out at the next floor and Annie stepped back further into the car, leaning against the shiny brass handrail that hung around the sides and back. Getting bored with watching the numbers change above as the elevator continued on its way down, she looked around at the others and tried to read their name tags.

It was then that she noticed the man standing in the corner opposite her, and the sudden sense of recognition she experienced just about made her heart leap into her throat.

He was over six feet tall and his broad shoulders seemed to dwarf the two women standing in front of him. His hair was raven black, thick and wavy, and the features of his face were bold and masculine, enhanced by a two-day shadowy growth of facial hair, and he undeniably handsome.

But it was his eyes that affected Annie the most. Long-lashed and intensely blue, they were the eyes she had dreamed of every night for a year while writing her book, Desire's Destiny.

The man was the living image of Jean-Luc Couchee, the rogue French pirate and hero of her novel. Annie blinked, totally surprised, never having expected ever to see a man in real life who looked exactly like the one she'd created in her dreams.

Especially here, at a romance convention in San Francisco.

A tingling sensation crept slowly up her spine as he looked her way and his wonderful blue eyes focused on her. She gulped, unable to look away. His full sensual lips curved up in a smile as he gazed at her, and then he glanced down at her name tag.

His smile broadened and a sudden light of humor glowed in his eyes. Annie saw that he was wearing a convention name tag also, pinned to the lapel of his sport coat. But she couldn't see his name nor the heart denoting his status because the women in front of him were in the way.

Then he nodded to her, his smile turning into a bold amused grin.

Annie managed to tear her eyes away, feeling her cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment. The man was probably used to women gawking at him, but she wasn't one who normally gave in to such behavior. Even so, she had to use every ounce of self-control she possessed not to look back at him.

It wasn't every day that a woman ran smack dab into the man of her dreams.

She watched the changing floor numbers again as the elevator moved down, counting them in her head, wondering who the man was. She wished that she'd been able to see the color of the heart on his name tag. Was it blue? Was he an agent? Or was it yellow? Was he an editor?

No, she couldn't picture a man like him in either of those jobs. He looked like a pro quarterback, a soldier of fortune, an adventurer, a pirate - anything but a businessman.

A model? Right, that was probably it. She'd certainly worked with enough male models at her job to recognize one when she saw one. But this guy she didn't know. She had never seen that face before, except in her dreams.

He must be new at it, she figured. He probably posed for the fabulous book covers on the historical romances. Many of the highly successful male models began their careers that way, and it would explain his being at the convention.

She gulped. If he posed for book covers, she just had to have him on the cover of Desire's Destiny. He was the living image of Jean-Luc. No other man could do.

The elevator stopped and the door opened to the crowded hotel lobby. Annie stepped hurriedly out, welcoming the reality of the bustling lobby after the startling fantasy she'd just experienced in the elevator. She laughed at herself for her fancies.

You'd better get a publisher first, Annie Halston, she told herself. Then worry about who's going to pose for Jean-Luc on the book cover.

But as she walked across the lobby to the lounge bar, she would not look back, even though every fiber of her being was crying out to get another look at the man.

She wouldn't let herself look again. Not now. There would be plenty of time in the days ahead to see him, maybe get to know him, maybe ...

Annie checked herself, not allowing the fantasy to continue. She had learned not so long ago that fantasy and reality did not necessarily match up where men were concerned. One broken heart was more than enough for her.

That's why she had started writing romance. As the writer, she could control her hero, create him to her specifications, make him follow her plans and plotting and, in the end, promise his love and devotion to the heroine for eternity.

Not so in reality. The man who had been her real-life hero had, unfortunately, a very willful mind of his own. Eric hadn't turned out to be the man she thought she'd fallen in love with, and there had been no happy ending.

She wasn't about to let that happen again, even for a man who looked exactly like Jean-Luc Couchee.

Annie walked into the dimly lit lounge bar, more anxious than ever to meet Vanessa Drake. Vanessa knew about her engagement to Eric and the painful breakup that had ended it a little over a year ago. And she also knew about Jean-Luc. Only the reigning Queen of Romance could understand the emotional tumult caused by seeing, right before your eyes, the man of your dreams when you were determined never to fall in love again with any man.

Yes, she really needed to talk to Vanessa now!

She looked down the crowded bar and over to the equally crowded booths, searching the faces for her friend.

"Excuse me, Miss. Are you looking for someone?"

The deep timbre of the male voice from behind had an enticing sensuous tone to it.

Annie turned to see who had spoken and her mouth dropped open in surprise. It was the man from the elevator. The man who looked like Jean-Luc!

"Yes, I am," she said a bit breathlessly, looking up at his strikingly handsome face. "I ... I'm looking for a friend."

The amused gleam was still in his eyes, and the grin on his face now matched it. "What a shame. I thought perhaps you might join me for a drink."

Were he any other man, Annie would have told him to get lost. But she didn't want to be rude to him. Not to her Jean-Luc, come to life right in front of her.

She did her best to smile sweetly. "Why thank you. Perhaps some other time? Right now I'm going to meet my friend Vanessa Drake, the romance ..."

Her voice stopped dead. Her eyes had lowered to look at his name tag. The heart on it was green, meaning 'published romance writer'. Above the green heart was printed the name VAN DRAKE, and next to it in parentheses, the name VANESSA DRAKE.

He laughed, holding out his hand. "I'm really happy to meet you, Annie. I hope you're not disappointed I'm a man. I knew you wouldn't come if you knew the truth. I just had to get you out here to San Francisco in the flesh." His eyes lowered and his bold gaze seemed to rake every inch of her body. "And I'm lovin' every ounce of it! And, please, you'll have to call me Van. The only time I like the name Vanessa is when my royalty statements come in the mail."

**

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Romance conventions like the one in this story take place every year in exciting cities throughout the USA. You can find out more about them on the Internet and via Romance news publications. If you are an aspiring Romance writer, attending them can really help your career by meeting the many friendly people in the business who attend.