There was a time when Marlowe Wyatt had abandoned herself to the unrestrained pleasures of love; she'd been bold and unashamed, giving her heart and body to her lover without inhibition or hesitation. Until she was betrayed. It's ironic, then, that she now earns a living composing love letters for clients incapable of communicating desire — erotic fantasies she skillfully creates with her head, but never her heart...deliberately disconnected from her passionate core...
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