Midnight in Montmartre: A French Kiss Sweet Romance Read Online Free

Midnight in Montmartre: A French Kiss Sweet Romance
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of the scenes, they were in a field of flowers, where it looked more like Holland than France. He reached out to her with one hand, and she took it. He spun her once, and they were dancing. The sun bathed them in a golden glow as she pressed her head into his chest and they slow danced.
    In the next scene they were frolicking as one could only frolic in a dream. He picked a dozen tulips and presented her with the bouquet. As she admired them, he bent down and kissed her.
    It was such a lovely dream that when she woke up, she was irritated. Even more so when she remembered that the French stranger not only had not kissed her in real life, he’d left without exchanging contact information. She might never see him again. The thought felt like a punch in the gut.
    "Enough of this crazy fantasy," she told herself. "I came to France to find my sister, not to get tied up in some love affair with some guy who doesn't even want me."
    She didn't even know anything about him, so why was she obsessing? She shook her head, wondering if she should go back to sleep, but the alarm clock on her cell phone rang. It was a bad idea to sleep for too long if she wanted to get over the time change as soon as possible.
    Ten minutes later, she was sipping a rich espresso from Juliette's futuristic-looking coffeemaker and looking out the window. It wasn't raining, but the clouds were puffy and seemed keen on lingering around the sun.
    Somewhere out there in this big city was what she was looking for. She had to keep the faith, but it was hard to block out the doubts.
    Mia didn't know what was the bigger fantasy: being with Luc, who clearly had no interest in her, or finding a woman who might not even be her sister.
    She already missed her parents. She'd talked to them as soon as she landed the previous night. They didn't live in the same house in Seattle—she had her own apartment—but at least there she could see them whenever she wanted. Adopted or not, they would always be her parents. They loved her so much and she loved them right back.
    Growing up as an adopted biracial child hadn’t been a major issue except for the odd insensitive remark. The thing that annoyed her the most, however, was when people touched her hair without asking her. Her hair was a hot topic for many people, prompting curiosity and questions about her background. Mia would explain to those who genuinely wanted to know, but she could feel some people's pity when she told them that she was adopted.
    Naturally, she was curious about her roots, like everyone else. Who were her parents? Why did they give her up?
    Now there was the chance that she had a sister. If she did, perhaps she'd get closer to the truth.
    Mia munched on a croissant from the boulangerie downstairs. It was a little hard, since she’d bought it yesterday along with her baguette sandwich, but it gave her some energy. Flaky, buttery energy.
    It also gave her some renewal of hope. There was plenty more fatty goodness where that came from. She was in France, a new country; anything was possible.
    "You'll be fine," she told herself. "Just take it one step at a time."
    The first step was to go down to the LUX ad agency that had produced the Fizz commercial. In Seattle, her emails to LUX had gone unanswered, and her calls were largely ignored, even when she got a French-speaking friend to speak for her. Nobody knew what she was talking about, and they weren't interested in helping her since she wasn't a big client.
    There was only one thing left to do: march into the place and demand answers from someone in charge. Politely, of course, but firmly.
    She studied the address of the agency on the map on her laptop. Since she didn't have a French phone plan yet, she couldn't use the GPS on her phone. This was where Juliette's map book came in handy.
    The agency was located in the 4th arrondissement. It was walkable. Mia could see the other sights of Paris along the way.
    When she stepped out onto the pavement, the
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