[The Wedding Rescue 01] • The Wedding Rescue, Book One

She thinks she's not his type. He's determined to prove her wrong.

Leigha Carmichael is used to the quiet life. A junior accountant by day, she knows girls like her don't have exciting lives. She's smart, shy and her curvy body doesn't fit in among the beauty queens of Las Vegas. Still reeling from her ex-boyfriend's betrayal, Leigha's sworn off all men. Except she has a huge problem, and only the right man can solve it.

The moment he sees her across a crowded bar, Dylan Kane knows he wants her. And Dylan Kane always gets what he wants. Especially when the object of his desire is sitting in his own casino. She's nothing like the skinny, overly made up women he's used to. From her clear gray eyes to her luscious curves, Leigha is the real thing. Exactly the change of pace he's been looking for. And even better, she needs something from him. With the bargain he has in mind, they'll both get exactly what they want.

In the few days she's his, Dylan plans to take control of every delectable inch of Leigha's body. But when the weekend is over, will he be able to let her go?

*This hot and steamy alpha billionaire romance is perfect for fans of Hannah Ford, Lila Monroe, Cassie Cross and J.S. Scott*

The Wedding Rescue is a serial romance in five parts. All five parts are complete, with firm publishing dates, and are available exclusively for Amazon and Kindle Unlimited readers.

EXCERPT:

I saw her across a crowded room. It’s such a cliché, especially for me. I see beautiful women across crowded rooms all the time. The Delecta was my casino, and she was sitting at my bar.

It’s hard to say what made me stop. She wasn’t a showgirl or a model, and nothing like the tall, skinny, overly made up women I was accustomed to. No, she was something else. She was real.

When was the last time I’d had real? Real curves, generous enough to have her hips straining the seams of her navy blue dress. Real tits. Had to be. They were soft and full, even from a distance. They, too, strained against her dress. Mouthwatering. And her lips. A plump bow, ready to open for me. I had to see more.

I eased into the bar, busy enough for six o’clock on a Thursday, but not as crowded as it would be in a few hours. I needed a better angle to see her face. From the door, all I got was long, shining, dark hair, streaming down her back in loose waves, a hint of her lips, the curve of an eyebrow, and nothing else. Did her face live up to the promise of her body? I was going to find out.

I crossed the room to the bar, nodding at a few people as I went. Sliding into the seat beside her, I raised a finger for the bartender.

“Sir,” he said with a deferential nod. I waved it away. This wasn’t the time to impress her with my status. Not until I knew if she’d be impressed. She might be one of those anti-corporate types, in which case being a billionaire wasn’t going to help me get her in my bed. And the closer I got, the more certain I was. However her night had begun, it would end with me.

I ordered a Manhattan. At the sound of my voice, she turned to look at me. Fucking perfect. Her face was as real as her body. No dramatic cheekbones or startling blue eyes caked with mascara. No, she barely wore any make-up. Not even lipstick. Her grey eyes were clear and intelligent, and her sweet, rosy lips had a natural pout. Her dark brows matched her hair. When her eyes met mine, they widened. For a second, she looked like a deer caught in headlights. Or one who’d spotted a predator far too close and knew he’d locked on. Her instincts told her all she needed to know. She was in danger and there was no escape.