Back at work on Monday, the aftereffects of Friday night’s four elderflower martinis had faded away, but unfortunately Julia was no closer to deciding on a pitch. She stared at the list of options she’d managed to piece together after a weekend spent scouring the internet. Not a single one felt right.

She glanced at the clock in the corner of her computer screen. The pitch meeting with Cleo wasn’t until this afternoon. Maybe if she focused on something else for a bit, inspiration would strike. Flipping the list over, Julia looked at the title she’d scribbled down for the TrendList article, “A Dozen Reasons Why Life Isn’t Like a Romantic Comedy.”

Using the words rom-com and real life as her search terms, Julia started poking around for resources. She was scrolling through a list of movie plot summaries when something caught her eye. A resort a little over an hour north of the city, just over the border in Wisconsin, was advertising a grand reopening with a unique twist.

A crackle of energy zinged through her as she read the description. Touted as the “dream destination for fans of romantic comedies,” the resort’s website promised to make “all your rom-com dreams come true.”

WISH YOUR LIFE COULD BE A LITTLE MORE LIKE A ROMANTIC COMEDY? THEN THIS IS THE PLACE FOR YOU.

“There’s no way this is for real,” Julia muttered. With a snort of skeptical laughter, she couldn’t resist clicking to read more about this “destination experience.”

COME PLAY IN OUR FULLY IMMERSIVE RESORT, WHERE GUESTS ARE INVITED TO STEP INTO THE WORLD OF ROM-COMS.

She flipped through photos of the picturesque lakefront property, and the more Julia read about what this “rom-com resort” entailed, the more she felt like fate was poking her between the shoulder blades. Her journalistic spidey senses began to hum. For someone who didn’t believe in signs, she sure was getting a lot of them lately. The resort was exactly the kind of exciting and new thing she’d been looking for. And it was unquestionably unique. This is the one.

Hallelujah, she’d found it. Her perfect “Take Me!” pitch.

Julia leaned forward in her chair and peeked around the side of her laptop. The door to Cleo’s office was open. She couldn’t just stride over there right now and pitch this idea, could she? Her job—her career—was on the line with this pitch, and she’d done less than fifteen minutes of research, total. Better to wait until this afternoon.

And risk subjecting yourself to more three p.m. stretches?