She is a gardener, living alone in the gardeners shed, surrounded by her books, her walking boots and her maps. 

He is a photographer, 3524 miles away, American and completely opposite to her in every way.

And then it happens.  An attraction, the flirting, the lust, the desire, written in letters to the other. 

Her fantasies, with him, without him, in libraries and cafes and beaches and bedrooms and showers and alleyways.  In the dark, in the daylight, on Sundays and Mondays and Saturdays, when she wakes from slumber, when she works in the garden, when she tries to put herself to sleep. 

These are her secret desires, shared with a lover she has met on social media and has never met in person, but hopes to live out one day before she goes grey and arthritic and can’t remember what she daydreamed about. 

We all have these fantasies.  Thoughts in our minds we are too ashamed or embarrassed to talk about.  This book is for all those who feel guilty for being aroused and bewitched by erotica.  You are not alone.  This book is for all those who love erotica.  You are not alone.  This book is for all those who are curious about sex and who don’t know how to talk about it.  I’ve done it for you.

 It is to be left for others on train seats and in telephone boxes, park benches and bus stops and in the waiting rooms buried in secret underneath the Car, Vogue and Gardeners World magazines.

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