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MidReal Story
The Billionaire's Fake Engagement
Scenario:a romance book is what I want to write a book that will sale
Create my version of this story
Becca
She is a dedicated editor for a small publishing house in New York City. She is passionate, determined, and introspective. Becca grew up reading romance novels by the Stacks authors and dreamed of writing one herself. She finally publishes her own romance novel, "The Billionaire's Fake Engagement", which becomes a bestseller. Her dream comes true when she meets Lucas Martin, the billionaire author of her favorite books, and she realizes he's her perfect match.
Lucas Martin
He is a bestselling author known for his billionaire romances, specifically the Stacks series. He is charismatic, confident, and mysterious. Lucas is unexpectedly engaged to Becca after she writes a novel featuring him as the protagonist. He's drawn to her intelligence and passion for his books. When Becca discovers his true identity as a famous author, she is shocked but excited to be part of his life. Their connection leads to a deeper and more complex relationship.
I was reading romance novels before I even hit puberty.
My mother, a voracious reader herself, introduced me to the genre.
I devoured the books, returned them to the library, and then went back for more.
The authors who wrote those books became idols to me.
The Stacks authors were my favorites.
Their books were always about love and romance, but with a twist of sensuality that made them more interesting than the standard fare.
I read every book those authors wrote.
I knew their pseudonyms but not their real identities.
That was how they wanted it.
Their fans respected their wishes for privacy.
Years went by, and I grew up.
I became an editor for a small publishing house in New York City.
The dream was to write a book of my own.
Finally, after years of trying, I succeeded with a romance novel called "The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement".
To my surprise, it became a bestseller.
Readers loved the protagonist, Lucas Martin.
He was a billionaire who fell in love with his fake fiancée.
The book took place in New York City, which added to its charm.
It was easy to write because I knew the setting well.
I arrived at Barnes & Noble thirty minutes early.
The store manager was still arranging chairs.
I fidgeted with my pen while I waited.
There was a line of people outside the door, waiting for the store to open.
My stomach churned as I watched them.
I had never done this before.
Being on this side of the signing table was surreal.
My publicist, Jenny, came over and touched my shoulder.
She handed me a bottle of water and whispered something in my ear.
The first reader approached me, clutching my book to her chest.
Her hands were shaking as she placed it before me.
"I love how Lucas sees through Sophie's walls," she gushed.
I smiled and uncap my pen.
"What’s your name?" she asked, her voice trembling.
I signed the book and handed it back to her. "Thank you so much," she said, hugging the book tightly.
More readers filed in, forming a line that stretched past the romance section.
I grip my pen tighter as each reader approaches.
Their eager faces blur together while I sign book after book.
My wrist starts to cramp, but I maintain my smile.
Jenny taught me to personalize each message.
A teenage girl tells me she stayed up all night reading.
I remember doing the same with Lucas's books.
The line stretches longer than expected, snaking between shelves.
When I pause to sip water, I catch a glimpse of my novel's cover - my name printed below the title - and my stomach twists.
A woman with striking red hair approaches, her eyes scanning my face intently.
"You don't recognize me, do you?" she asks, a hint of amusement in her voice.
I shake my head, confused, and she leans in closer, whispering, "I'm one of the Stacks authors."
My hand trembles as I set down my pen.
"Sarah Chen," she says, extending a manicured hand.
"I wrote The CEO's Secret Baby."
I manage a squeak of recognition, my mind racing.
The CEO's Secret Baby was one of my favorite books.
There was a scene where the CEO took his assistant on a helicopter ride over New York City, and it was so romantic.
Sarah pulls up a chair beside my signing table, completely disregarding the line of waiting readers.
She starts talking about her writing process, but her eyes keep darting to the cover of my bestseller.
I try to focus on what she’s saying, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more behind her words.
"So," she says, leaning in closer, "I think we should meet for coffee sometime. Discuss the industry."
I catch an odd edge in her voice, but before I can respond, Jenny steps in, reminding me about the waiting fans.
I exchange numbers with Sarah while Jenny hovers anxiously nearby, clearly wanting to keep the signing moving.
Sarah's perfectly manicured nails tap against my book cover as she programs her contact info into my phone.
The waiting fans shift restlessly, some craning their necks to see what's happening.
Sarah stands, smoothing her designer dress, and announces she'll text me details for tomorrow's coffee meeting.
Before walking away, she pauses and picks up my novel, studying the back cover photo with an odd intensity that makes me uncomfortable.
I force myself to refocus on the signing duties, though Sarah's strange behavior lingers in my mind.
The next reader, a middle-aged woman in a floral dress, places my book on the table with trembling hands.
I ask her name and begin writing a message, but my signature comes out messier than usual.
The woman doesn't seem to notice, gushing about how the ballroom scene reminded her of her own love story.
I smile and thank her, while secretly checking my phone under the table.
Sarah has already texted an address for an upscale coffee shop in Manhattan.
After the last reader leaves, I slump back in my chair while Jenny starts packing up the leftover books.
My wrist aches from hours of signing, but my mind is more preoccupied with Sarah Chen's unexpected visit.
I pull out my phone and scroll to her text message again, rereading the address and time she sent.
"Jenny," I say, fiddling with my pen, "did you notice how Sarah kept staring at my author photo?"
Jenny pauses mid-stack, a book suspended in her hands.
She sets it down slowly and pulls up a chair beside me.
The way she hesitates before answering makes my stomach twist into knots.
"Yeah, I did," Jenny finally says, her voice low.
"Do you think she knows something about your past?"
I swallow hard, the question hanging between us like a storm cloud.
