Paris is Always a Good Idea

by Jenn McKinlay

What do you think about being a flower girl?” “Um . . . I’m almost thirty.”

Annabelle, now a graphic designer living in a loft on Newbury Street, was the wild child. The

His tongue teased the seam of my lips until they parted, and then he deepened the kiss and buried his hand in my hair to hold me steady while he wrecked me with his mouth, positively wrecked me.

sat at a small wrought-iron table in the courtyard of the hotel, brooding over my espresso while admiring the massive terra-cotta dome of Il Duomo in the distance, which stood out above the city’s skyline.