Isn't it wonderful when a tremendously brilliant idea flashes through our brains? That's how the concept for this book came to me—in a dazzling moment of 'Wouldn't it be wonderful if the women who write about fictional love every day told their readers their very own love story?'

What could be more fascinating, and more inspiring than to read about the true romances of some of America's most beloved romance authors?

But could I do it? Where and how would I start?

I have been a romance author for twenty years and during that time I've made a lot of friends, but did I dare ask these beautiful and dedicated women who write fictional happily-ever-after stories to write something for me about their personal and private lives? And, if I could by some chance entice the authors I knew to help me with this intriguing idea, would I then be able to persuade some authors I didn't know?

While the idea of such a book appealed to me, the task itself seemed daunting, impossible.

Time passed but my desire to work on this book didn't. If anything, the longer I put it off, the more I wanted to do it.

But before I could ask my friends to help me with this project, I had to write my own story. So I began:

The first time I saw him, he was leaning against the fender of a sporty, 1965 canary yellow Comet Cyclone holding a thin cigar. Surprising I know, considering he was a senior in high school and not a well-seasoned man about town, but true. Thankfully smoking didn't become a habit for him, but looking at him that late Sunday afternoon with smoke curling up from his fingers made my seventeen-year-old heart thump loud enough to cause a roar in my temples. One thing was for sure. He was