The Book of Love

To Royce Argent, "love" was a word that belonged in the children's books she wrote and illustrated -- definitely not in her life. So when a dear old friend put his lavish London home at her disposal, Royce rolled up her sleeves and delved into her beloved work.

It was the wrong time for James Jamieson to stop by for a visit. The moment he saw Royce his suspicions were obvious -- signed, sealed and delivered before they had exchanged a word. But something else was equally obvious, something that made suspicions and words irrelevant -- every word, Royce had to admit, except love.