Loving the Odds

By Stefanie London

Bad boy PR guru Lance Fulton is all about helping the gorgeous, quirky risk analyst Bailey Reuben. She’s in desperate need of some fun, and pretending to be her new boyfriend is the perfect way to make her see how sexy she is, help her out of a bind, and show her jerk of an ex what he’s missing.

Bailey might be in Las Vegas, but the last thing on her mind is sin. She’s there to find her thieving ex and get her grandfather’s watch back. Instead, she finds a smoking hot stranger. A stranger with a crazy plan to help her retrieve her family heirloom and get revenge. It’s a bad idea—she calculates risks for a living, after all—but she can’t say no. But the more they get to know each other—and the hotter their attraction burns—the higher the probability one of them will end up with a broken heart…

The complete 'What Happens in Vegas’ series (All standalones which can be read out of order)

Tempting Her Best Friend by Gina L. Maxwell
The Makeover Mistake by Kathy Lyons
A Change of Plans by Robyn Thomas
Masquerading with the CEO by Dawn Chartier
Just One Reason by Brooklyn Skye
Tamed by the Outlaw by Michelle Sharp
Tempted by Mr. Write by Sara Hantz
Gambling on the Bodyguard by Sarah Ballance
Seducing Seven by M.K. Meredith
Calling Her Bluff by Kaia Danielle
Her Secret Lover by Robin Covington
Betting on the Wrong Brother by Cathryn Fox
Accidentally in Love with the Biker by Teri Anne Stanley
Loving the Odds by Stefanie London
The Seduction of Kinley Foster by Lisa Wells
Hot on His Heels by Margo Bond Collins

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Mar 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781633755833

Stefanie London

Stefanie London is a USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. Her books have been called "genuinely entertaining and memorable" by Booklist, and her writing praised as "elegant, descriptive and delectable" by RT Magazine. Originally from Australia, she now lives in Toronto with her very own hero and is doing her best to travel the world. She frequently indulges her passions for lipstick, good coffee, books and anything zombie related.

Book preview

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Stefanie London. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

10940 S Parker Rd

Suite 327

Parker, CO 80134

[e-mail]

Lovestruck is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Alycia Tornetta

Cover design by Heather Howland

Cover art from Shutterstock

ISBN 978-1-63375-583-3

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition March 2016

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Find love in unexpected places with these satisfying Lovestruck reads…

For Seven Nights Only

Neighbors with Benefits

Romancing the Ranger

The Perfect Bargain

Dear Reader,

Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.

xoxo

Liz Pelletier, Publisher

To Alex, Kathleen and Lauren, for friendships that survive changes in time zone and hemisphere.

Chapter One

Bailey Rueben had suspected Vegas would be a walk on the wild side. But staring at the well-muscled chest of a half-naked cowboy had made her reconsider. It was more of a run than a walk. A sprint, even.

The cowboy winked and her cheeks filled with scorching heat. Okay, maybe it was more like rollerblading downhill with no helmet and no inherent sense of balance.

Sucking in a breath, she turned on her heel and tried to remain calm. Cowboys, while appealing, were not part of her mission. Unlike everyone else here, she’d come to the Masquerade hotel without the intention of having fun. She had a jerk to find, an heirloom to recover, and a return flight to catch.

Bailey checked her watch: four forty-three and thirty seconds. If her calculations were correct, she would need to be at the airport about an hour before her flight back to San Francisco. The trip there would take twenty minutes in a cab. That meant she had three and a half hours to locate her grease ball of an ex and demand that he relinquish her grandfather’s watch.

It could be tight, considering the hotel appeared to be in a cowboy-induced chaos. Apparently a convention was in full swing—a romance convention, no less. How ironic that she would be hunting for the guy who’d destroyed her view on relationships while surrounded by a bunch of people who believed in multiple orgasms and happily ever afters.

I need to forgo the real thing and stick to book boyfriends. At least I won’t catch them sexting their co-workers.

She smoothed her hands down the front of her gray pencil skirt and hefted her oversized handbag higher on her shoulder. A mutual friend—who also happened to work at the bank where Bailey and her ex were employed—let it slip that Julian the Jerk would be here for the weekend. Bailey had assumed he was attending a professional event of some sort. An industry thing. She’d been shocked, however, to learn it was nothing to do with his job and instead was some kind of huge party with hundreds of women.

In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been that surprising. Julian loved women, as he’d told her upon walking out of their home. Loved them too much to be stuck with one who wasn’t comfortable having sex with the lights on.

Ugh, she muttered, her lip curling. "Jerk."

Are you here for the convention, too?

A voice interrupted Bailey’s internal hate-parade and she turned to see a woman in a fitted teal dress, her pretty blue eyes framed by long curling lashes. Bailey touched her thick-rimmed glasses self-consciously.

I’m not, but I am looking for someone who’s attending, she said. Julian Farnsworth?

She stopped short of saying the third out of habit. A small part of her reveled in the tiny rebellion, knowing her wretched ex liked to be called by his full title.

I don’t know the name. The girl smiled apologetically. But I’m heading there now if you want to walk with me. The main convention area is on the second level.

Bailey accepted the offer. As they rode up the gaudy, reflective gold escalator she drank in the sights of the hotel. It didn’t showcase the masquerade theme so much as it screamed it at full volume. Solid strips of color—in purple, green, and red—were molded to look like ribbons fluttering against the ceiling. Glimmering baubles in gold and silver decorated the corners of the reception area, and a large venetian-style mask hung over the turnstile entrance.

It’s so wonderful, isn’t it? said Bailey’s newfound friend. So glamorous and opulent. You could fall in love here.

Bailey resisted the urge to tell this woman that although the sentiment was sweet—in a sickly marshmallow fluff kind of way—love was nothing but a risk-based decision. When it came down to it, choosing a mate was an equation. A balancing of facts and figures.

And the sad truth was that relationships were kind of like The Hunger Games. The odds weren’t really in your favor.

So is this Julian a friend of yours? the other woman asked. Is he a writer?

No, he works in banking. I don’t know why he’s at a romance convention.

They arrived at the top of the stairs and were greeted by a large open area filled with people. Some hunky-looking guys were posing for pictures with groups of women, their camera-ready smiles brighter than the flashing lights on the slot machines she’d spied downstairs.

Posters showed off book covers with everything from bare-chested men to ladies in regency finery to young lovers clinching. Hearts and flowers and sexiness were splashed across everything. Bailey swallowed against the uncomfortable churn in her stomach.

The dark gray skirt and plain black blouse—which she’d chosen for their smartness and the fact that they wouldn’t show coffee stains—suddenly felt drab. Boring.

Frigid.

The word made her chest clench. It was one of the crueler parting shots Julian the Jerk had made, only to be topped by him telling her he’d have more fun fucking a blow-up doll than her.

Do you see him? the woman in the teal dress asked, looking around as though she might be able to help, despite the fact she had no idea what he looked like.

No… Bailey scanned the room, tamping down the pain and humiliation rearing up within her.

Think about why you’re here. You have to get the watch back. That’s all that matters.

As if conjured by her renewed focus, she spotted Julian across the room. It wasn’t hard to miss him. There weren’t many men around and he was the only one in a three-piece suit. Scratch that, he was the only one fully clothed. His dark hair was slicked back with so much gel it appeared wet and his capped teeth shone as he smiled.

That was when she noticed the woman on his arm. The curvy brunette had hair to her waist in gleaming waves, her impressive bust propped up by a corset-style top in red and black lace. Full lips were painted a shiny crimson and as she held up a hand to wave, Bailey saw her nails were painted to match. She looked so glamorous, so at ease.

So goddamn sexy.

There. Bailey pointed toward Julian and the woman next to her squealed.

"I know her. That’s Selena Lockhart. The Selena Lockhart. The woman clapped her hands together. Her Forever With You series is ah-maze-ing. She writes the hottest sex scenes you’ll ever read. I swear, they’ll melt the rubber right off your vibrator."

Bailey coughed but it came out like more of a choking sound. Right. I’ll uhh…look for those books. Excuse me, I have to go.

She pushed through the crowd to get closer to Julian and the sex-writing goddess on his arm. They were surrounded by people. Cameras flashed and Serena turned, smiling coyly to the left and then the right. Julian put his arm around her and his shirtsleeve pulled up, revealing the gold face of Bailey’s grandfather’s vintage Rolex. He was wearing her watch while he pawed at another woman in a room full of people.

Bastard!

She wanted to confront him. After all, the worst thing he could do was refuse to give the watch back and then she’d be in exactly the same position she was in now. At best, he’d take it off and hand it over. There was only gain to be had. It was a low-risk move with the probability of high reward.

But…what if he…?

Her stomach pitched and her feet rooted to the ground, refusing to carry her any closer. Heart hammering in her chest, she battled with herself.

Just do it, Bailey. Do. It. Put one foot in front of the other and confront that jerk.

But the second Julian brought his lips down to the gorgeous woman next to him, Bailey turned and fled.

…

Lance Fulton watched his boss pick the croutons out of her salad, her eyes narrowing at them as if they were cockroaches rather than small pieces of bread. Apparently going Paleo meant all carbs were off-limits, but he refrained from pointing out that cavemen probably didn’t drink straight martinis with their lunch.

He couldn’t say many positive things about Janet Griswold, but she did have a stare that could cause a grown man to wither. And right now he was thankful that the offensive carbs had shifted the brunt of her distaste away from him. For once.

Are you even listening to what I’m saying? she snapped, the gaudy stack of bejeweled bracelets clinking on her arm as she raised a forkful of salad to her mouth.

He took a sip of his now lukewarm coffee. You were telling me, again, how much we need Braxton St. John on our client list.

Like he didn’t know that already. Braxton St. John wasn’t only a best-selling erotic romance author; he was also one of the wildest and most out of control people in the public eye. Drinking. Gambling. Partying with girls young enough to be his daughter…then marrying them.

In other words, the perfect client.

Lance worked as a senior marketing and image consultant for a San Francisco company called Take Two. They specialized in turning people whom the public loved to hate into beloved pillars of society. They’d had clients ranging from substance-abusing heiresses, washed-up former child stars, big-mouthed fashion designers, and greedy corporate bigwigs.

Braxton St. John was a big fish. His latest book was currently being made into a movie and he’d been spotted leaving the star’s hotel room at two in the morning. She was twenty-three and less than half his age. Now the girl’s mother was raising hell and the media was having a field day. If they could convince the author to change his ways, it could mean big bucks and big business.

After all, if they could fix his reputation, they could fix anyone.

I’ve decided to give Mark the go-ahead to secure him as a client.

What? Lance slammed his mug down so hard the people at the next table peered at him curiously. "You’ve been telling me to hold off for months and now you’re giving the lead to

Reviews for Loving the Odds

[blsfan68 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a light, fun, quick story. It is well written and enjoyable. The characters are easy to connect with and likable. ARC received from Entangled Publishing in exchange for an honest review.

[judy griffin · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Book 14

[booksnuggle · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

"Loving the Odds" by Stefanie London is book fourteen in the "What Happens in Vegas" series but can be read as a standalone. This is Bailey Reuben and Lance Fulton's story.

This is a great fun and steamy quick read. This is a perfect book to take your mind off your troubles, so kick back and escape for a while. I loved the chemistry and the banter between Bailey and Lance.

I received a copy of this book from NetGalley/Entangled Publishing for an honest review. FYI, contains mature content.