Gemotions

"Honestly," growled Beatrice under her breath, tossing the book across her desk. She’d found the letter in a copy of *Jane Eyre*. She'd been looking forward to reading it. She'd been looking forward to *anything* that would distract her. Instead, the letter.

She felt a hot, unpleasant flush creep up her neck. She picked up the book and the letter again, her fingers trembling slightly. The letter was a personal note, filled with declarations of love and longing. She had wanted something for herself, not this unwanted intimacy.

She took a deep breath, fighting down the urge to tear the letter to shreds. She'd just wanted a good read. This felt like some sort of prank.