Valerie Wilder doesn’t do serious relationships. She also doesn’t usually wake up in Vegas next to a male stripper…
A male stripper who happens to be her new husband.
A quickie divorce seems like the answer, but the Nevada legal system doesn’t think so. When her new husband suggests flying back to Chicago with Valerie she accepts, wondering if one night in Vegas could turn into something much more.
“SHOTS!” Abigail Lewis, my supposed mentor, came to the table with another round of Kamikaze shots. She said we deserved it after being cooped up in a conference room all day, strategizing with a bunch of suits. I think she just wanted to spend all our daily meal allowance money on alcohol.
“Abbi, you’re going to give us all a wicked-ass hangover for tomorrow’s meetings.” Pam Rodgers grabbed a shot off the tray as Abbi took the seat next to me at the tiny table.
“Whatever, you’re only four years out of college. You should still be able to hold your own.” Abbi handed me the other shot glass on the tray. “And you’re not even a year out, Wilder, so drink, bitch and stop acting like a twenty-two year old pussy.”
“You know it’s serious when you start calling me by my last name like this is some sort of sporting event.” I laughed and stared down at the swirling liquid in the glass.
Abbi put her glass up for a toast. “This is some serious shit, ladies. I got us tickets to the Rock Hard Abs of Vegas contest and we need to down these and get our asses to the strip club.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Serious as hell, lady. Now drink!”
We all clinked our glasses together and then drank. It burned all the way down, and Abbi’s words gave me another surge of adrenaline. Rock Hard Abs of Vegas? How could I say no to that?
About Magan Vernon:
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