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“Wake up, Sweetheart,” he leans down and plants his warm lips on my forehead. “You always have the naughtiest dreams on St. Patrick’s Day . . .”
“Wake up, Sweetheart,” he leans down and plants his warm lips on my forehead. “You always have the naughtiest dreams on St. Patrick’s Day . . .”
“Wake up, Sweetheart,” he leans down and plants his warm lips on my forehead. “You always have the naughtiest dreams on St. Patrick’s Day . . .”
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