Did you know at 1am I morph from a sports writer into a romance author?
This is not by choice or design. In fact, I wasn’t aware of this POOF!-like transformation until last night when my Navy-Notre Dame recap drifted into the wee hours of the morning.
In a hiccup my objective, biting commentary of the Midshipmen triple-option poofed into long, lazy, sultry sentences of a fan’s ardent amour.
Talk about jarring and just a little bit freaky.
Bottom line: I really wish I would have come with a warning label.