Anyway this week, in honor of the sun, I've nipped back to the Indian ocean just on...
Isola Dei Sogni, where fantasies and dreams come true. Mia only went as a favor for her sister. Her fantasy was a good book and a bottle of wine. Until she met Dylan. Then her sense disappeared and fantasy took over. Was it all worth it?
So what does Meryl think I'm here for then? They might have an Arabian Stud here and . . . oh help, that doesn't sound right. I'm thinking stallions and . . . zip those thoughts now. Is it the champagne or is the atmosphere getting to me? What are they pushing through the air-con? Pheromones? Time to go back to my bungalow, open my eReader, and decide on dinner—and I suppose a blasted fantasy.
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Love R x