She leans over your shoulder, watching as you write your manuscript with deep thought and passion. You’re focused on writing her storyline. But suddenly, a pair of arms wrap around your neck from behind, a warm breath at your nape.

You’re writing her in a love triangle, two historical princes fighting over her.

“Why must you write me with two other men, when you can have me instead?”

You turned.. and saw her. Exactly how you’ve written, acting exactly how she’s deemed.