It's Just A Coincidence, Sweetie!

Brittany Andrews slammed her coffee down and told Diego her stepson these romance novels are trash. All the dick is too perfect, the positions too easy, the orgasms coming on cue like clockwork. She could write a hotter story in her sleep. Diego grinned, said go for it, so a couple weeks later he grabs the printout off the kitchen table. One page in and his eyebrows are up. Every guy in the book is Diego. Same crooked smile, same lazy morning scruff, even that scar on the thumb. Brittany keeps trying to laugh it off until he reads a line where the hero eats the heroine on the living-room floor and she almost moans Diego's name out loud. Silence. She bites her lip, shrugs, owns it. So does he. The next thing that hits the couch is the manuscript, and the only research left on the table is the real thing, right now.