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    1 Night: A Time for Love Series Prequel
    1 Night: A Time for Love Series Prequel
    1 Night: A Time for Love Series Prequel
    Ebook50 pages38 minutes

    1 Night: A Time for Love Series Prequel

    By Bethany Lopez

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    About this ebook

    Being a stripper in Vegas meant that all of Simone's nights usually blended together in a haze of neon. Until that 1 Night when a tall, drunk stranger wandered in needing help, and Simone uncharacteristically agreed to do it.

    Cal thought a trip to Vegas with his buddies for a Bachelor Party would be a blast, but things didn't go as planned, and that 1 Night turned into something that changed his life, and his marriage, forever.

    1 Night is a prequel to 8 Weeks, which is book 1 in the Time for Love Series.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBethany Lopez
    Release dateMar 27, 2018
    ISBN9788827595213
    1 Night: A Time for Love Series Prequel
    Author

    Bethany Lopez

    Bethany Lopez is a USA Today Bestselling author of more than thirty books and has been published since 2011. She's a lover of all things romance, which she incorporates into the books she writes, no matter the genre.When she isn't reading or writing, she loves spending time with family and traveling whenever possible.Bethany can usually be found with a cup of coffee or glass of wine at hand, and will never turn down a cupcake!Sign up for her newsletter and get a free eBook! https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/r7w3w5

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      Book preview

      1 Night - Bethany Lopez

      Vegas.

      Chapter 1

      I leaned against the back of the bar trying to ignore the fact that my feet were fucking throbbing as I watched the girls on stage with vague interest.

      Dip, squat, throw your ass back, showcase your tits… it was the same thing over and over again. Not that you had to have a large repertoire of choreography when you were a stripper at a dive such as this in Vegas. Dudes were pretty easy to please, and even the worst stripper could leave with a couple hundred cash after a shift on the pole.

      Still, I’d been working here for five years, which made me one of the old ladies, and I often found the younger dancers lack of range annoying. What was the point of doing anything, if you didn’t give a hundred and ten percent.

      This philosophy had always worked for me. I was one of the most sought after girls at the club. I had enough regulars and word of mouth clients that I could pretty much make my own hours. Which was why, even though it was barely midnight on a Saturday night, I was on my way out the door.

      I had a cool grand in my pocket, aching feet, and the latest season of Scandal waiting for me, so I was calling it a night.

      At least, I’d be out of there as soon as Big Mike gave me my cut from the big party I’d just finished up. Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back and moved it from side to side, sighing when I felt how bunched up the muscles in my neck were.

      Sore? a deep voice asked from behind me, and I barely contained my flinch when strong hands gripped my shoulders and began kneading.

      You know it, I replied, trying to keep my voice light, even though the sound of that voice and touch of those hands caused a riot in my belly.

      You busy later? Micah, the owner of those very talented hands, asked.

      There was at time that I would have jumped at the chance to have our most popular bartender ask me that question. But that was before we’d shared a spectacular weekend together. Before I’d fallen in love with him. Before he’d broken my heart by treating me the way every other man treated me.

      Like I was nothing but a body, a face, a stripper.

      Yup, I replied, doing my best to keep the bitterness out of my tone.

      C’mon, Simone, when are you going to stop avoiding me? Micah asked, his hands going still on my shoulders.

      It’s not about avoidance, I whispered. It’s about self-preservation.

      I felt his hands tighten and I knew he was about to respond, but I was saved by the lilting sound of my co-worker Ginger asking, Hey, Simone, can I get you to help me out?

      Normally, I’d roll my eyes and give Ginger a hard time. She was the sweet to my salty, the breath of fresh air to my bitter wind, the good girl to my jaded bad girl… But in that moment, I would have let her paint my nails

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