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When I got dumped by my stupid fiancé a week before the wedding, my plans involved nothing more than ice cream, a blanket fort, and a bonfire of his possessions.
But my friends convinced me that bitter tastes better drowned in Bordeaux, so I came to Paris for a single-moon.
Then I met him. He’s shown me things I’ve never seen before, and I’m not talking about the Louvre.
Is it just the seduction of Paris? Or could this be the real thing?
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