Vegas Vixen: Vegas Nights

By Kameron Claire

He's a billionaire game designer. She's the Las Vegas showgirl. With their ten-year high school reunion coming up, can he prove to her they belong together?

Anthony: I fell in love with Lola our freshman year, but as a geeky pre-teen, I didn't have a chance with her. Now I'm a game designer and one of the richest men in the world, but I never forgot about her. When I get invited to our 10 year reunion, I have an excuse to look her up, only to find she's here and on a dozen billboards I pass coming in and out of Vegas. She might not look the same, but is she the same quirky girl I've fantasized about over the years? And will she like who I've become? 

 

Lola: My name is Lola, and yes, I wear yellow feathers in my hair. When I'm not performing as THE Las Vegas showgirl, I'm the same closed off goth chick I was in high school with a giant neon sign over my head that reads, Don't-Try-Me. So when a guy pays $25,000 to meet me, obviously I'm suspicious. Only, I don't expect him to be the sweet guy I went to high school with. Nor do I expect him to invite me to our 10-year reunion as his date. Does he want me or the showgirl on his arm?

 

Each book in the series is a complete, standalone story. This is a steamy, short story romance, complete with instalove and a guaranteed happily ever-after. If you're looking for a great lunchtime read, or something to spark sexy dreams before bed, you'll want to pick this one up.

Vegas Nights Series: Vegas Bachelorette, Vegas Bride, Vegas Baby, and Vegas Vixen

• Language: English
• Publisher: Snuggle Whore Press, LLC
• Release date: Jun 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201715250

Kameron Claire

USA Today Bestselling Author Kameron Claire loves building worlds where heroes and heroines push, pull, and fight their way to the love and happiness they deserve. She writes full length and short, steamy romance with an emphasis on strong female characters—often in male-dominated roles—and the alpha men who know how to love and support kick-ass, take-charge women.  While she may not need him to save her, she wants him to love, support, and most of all, RAVISH her. ** Get up to date information and freebies as a newsletter subscriber: www.kameronclaire.com/newsletter ** Reach out and chat with her anytime on Facebook at www.facebook.com/kameronclaireauthor

Book preview

Chapter One

Anthony

You’ve heard how some people peak in high school while others never look back? I’m in the never-looked-back crowd. I morphed after high school and college from the geeky outcast—back before being a smart, computer savvy, sci-fi-loving geek was chic—to being named one of the world’s top ten richest bachelors under the age of thirty. My digital media and social gaming company is worth a little over a billion dollars, and if my AI technology hits, as predicted, at the end of the year, I suspect I’ll be number one by this time next summer.

Of course, whether I’ll be single by next summer is up for debate. Every girl who couldn’t spare me a second glance in high school or college now hits me up however they can, showing up at the most obscure places to bump into me. They slide cash or other favors to security guards and hotel employees to gain access to the places I’m going to be, whether it’s a VIP booth at a members-only club, front row at a conference when I’m presenting, or my hotel room.

I don’t want to know what favors they do to get access to my hotel room, but I had to travel with a female bodyguard because I can’t risk the PR shit storm of being trapped alone with a desperate woman.

The funny thing is you’d think I’d remember the homecoming queen, head cheerleader, or the prom queen, but I don’t. There’s only one girl from high school I remember—Lola, a social outcast like me, with a flair for the dramatic. I’d fallen in love with her after she said hi to me on Day One of our freshman year and pined over her for the next four hellish years of school. But she disappeared before graduation, and no one knew what became of her.

Rumors about her absence spread. My favorite being she ran off to join the circus, because honestly, that would’ve been cool. But the rumor mill and mean girl club had been creative with their lies, spreading stories that ran the gamut from being knocked up and sent away to live with her aunt to being locked up for deal drugs for her pimp boyfriend.

My problem—well, one of many back then—was that I was two years younger than my peers. Not only was I a small, lanky, gawky, and geeky kid with acne and uncontrollable body odor, I was a twelve-year-old pre-teen (and a young one at that since my birthday is in June) when everyone else was fourteen or fifteen. So, I never had the confidence to approach someone like Lola, who I thought was one of the coolest, most awe-inspiring chicks at our school.

She’d been heavily into drama club, choir, and dance, and she almost always dressed like a chick out of the movie The Craft or like Winona Ryder out of Beetlejuice. Feminine gothic horror I once overheard her call it when challenged by a teacher who asked her to describe her style. Whatever it was, I always thought she was beautiful, and cool, and nice, and I’ve found I’m still attracted to a touch of the dramatic today.

The few girlfriends I’ve