When Jules meets Roman Verona at an exclusive Vegas party, she doesn’t suspect the bad blood that runs so deep between Roman and her boyfriend, Ty, until the two men have it out in front of her. Even worse, Jules finds out that Ty has never loved her. She storms away, only to have her ex’s sworn enemy offer her a ride into town... as well as a shocking proposal.A nice girl wouldn’t even consider making her ex jealous with a sham marriage, so why does she chance it with Roman?
Acting the role of devoted husband, Roman soon becomes fascinated with more than Jules’s sweet smile and poetic soul. As her band’s fame grows in Vegas so do his feelings for her and what started out as revenge against his miserable cousin turns into something deeper.
But bad boys don’t settle down. So why does Roman risk everything to win Jules’ heart?
All bets are off in this modern and sleek tale of star-crossed love!
Stephanie Fowers loves bringing stories to life, and depending on her latest madcap ideas will do it through written word, song, and/ or film.
She absolutely adores Bollywood and bonnet movies; i.e., Jane Austen.
Presently, she lives in Salt Lake where she's living the life of the starving artist.
She absolutely adores Bollywood and bonnet movies; i.e., Jane Austen.
Presently, she lives in Salt Lake where she's living the life of the starving artist.
Excerpts
Jules pulled out her phone from her purse as if she’d gotten a sudden call and reversed directions, heading for the swaying curtains to the balcony outside. She ducked under them to escape into the warm Vegas air.
The soft breeze ran through her hair as she lowered her phone to catch the last of the setting sun. It disappeared into a wave of clouds in a horizon that looked like the rolling currents in an upside down sea. She sighed. Jules loved a good desert storm, and it was coming for them. Its roiling darkness made the oranges and reds brilliant in the sky.
She edged around a pool that bubbled on the deck to get closer to the view. The foamy depths were fresh and cool against the colors of the city, making her wish she was out here for a cool dip, but sadly, she was stuck in her dress. Circling away, she pressed her elbows into the railing to stare at the iridescent buildings that spread out below her in pinks and golds and brilliant whites with florescent wording. The manmade wonders of Vegas were brighter than an explosion of molten lava. In the distance a pink Ferris wheel turned on silent hinges.
The view took her breath away. She slid her boots off so that she stood barefoot over it, elevated far above the bustle of the city, away from the dirt and noise. Here, everything felt peaceful and pretty; it was the irony of pollution—it made all the colors stand out. Vegas sunsets were always glorious on a smoggy day. As the darkness overcame the city, the blue lights on the balcony sparkled over the deck. She sighed and pressed closer to the railing.
“Don’t jump,” a man intoned dryly behind her.
She wasn’t about to, but her heart sure did—it leaped right into her throat as she swung around and almost dropped her phone. The rough cement dug into the pads of her bare feet. She clasped the railing behind her when she saw she hadn’t been alone this whole time. Relaxing on a nearby lounge chair, a man regarded her under the glow of lights, texting by the looks of things. His jacket was draped on the chair next to him, and he wore a black t-shirt with expensive suit pants. A leather wristband slid around his wrist and his rings were on all the wrong fingers—no wedding ring. He had the look of a rebel.
Unfortunately, he was also attractive. His wavy, chestnut brown hair swept around features borrowed from a Greek god—which she shouldn’t even think about. Her boyfriend was in the next room.
His chin tilted over the light of his cellphone. He had a square jawline shadowed in stubble, an expressive forehead, and when he regarded her, it was with an assessing look under dark brows. “The party’s that bad, huh?”
“How long have you been out here?” she found herself asking.
“Longer than you. So I’ve got dibs on the deck.”
She laughed. Picking up her boots, she moved around the pool in her bare feet. He lurched up in his chair. “I’m sorry. Did I chase you away?”
“You couldn’t if you tried. It’s just…” She hesitated on the edge of the pool and sat down, finally giving into its siren call. She set her phone next to her boots and purse before dipping her toes in. He pushed his legs off his chair in response. “Don’t worry,” she said with a laugh. Her southern accent felt especially thick, but she couldn’t help it as she teased him. “I’m not going to drown myself either. You’re not here to keep me safe, are you?”
He didn’t answer, just brushed back his dark hair with a jaded look. It was in an undercut, and she saw that he had a widow’s peak. He stood and made his way around the pool and sat on the edge of it next to her, rolling up the legs of his trousers.
She hadn’t expected him to take up the challenge, and she turned quickly from him to peer into the still water. The neon bulbs from below lit the surface with an inner glow, turning the pool a light aquamarine color—the same color of his eyes. She shouldn’t notice the color of his eyes or catch her breath when she glanced up and saw those eyes on hers.
He slid his legs into the water next to hers, like it was the most natural thing in the world to hang out with a stranger, but for some reason his closeness was doing weird things to her pulse and she had to work to get it back to normal. It was odd, because she also felt very comfortable with him—the guy gave off a protective vibe, and she felt like he was just the thing to help her forget all the drama happening inside.
It was quiet out here, and she let the peace of the night blanket her, interrupted only by an occasional burst of laughter from inside and the soft strains of music. This man wasn’t afraid of silences, though it felt like the calm before the storm. As if the wind read her thoughts, it blew harder. He stared up at the cloudy sky, and she couldn’t help it—she had to look up too. The clouds had squeezed out all evidence of the stars, lowering threateningly over them. It was brewing into one of those rare and dangerous Vegas downpours.
Normally it would feel out of the ordinary sitting in companionable silence with a handsome stranger like this, her shoulder almost brushing his arm, but the stress of the party had gotten to her and the last thing she wanted to do was think.
Eventually he cleared his throat. “How deep is this pool?” he asked.
Jules dunked in her legs to see if she could touch the bottom of it. When her toes hit the tiles, it was only up to her knees. Luckily. She didn’t want to get her dress wet—why she attempted going in in the first place was anyone’s guess—but she was just as curious as he was, and on a whim, she picked up her skirt so it wouldn’t touch the water and waded the rest of the way inside, her skin sighing with relief at the coolness.
He chuckled and pressed a button to the side of them. The whole surface bubbled and the froth caught the ends of her skirt. She let out a surprised shriek and twisted around with a scold on her lips.
His smile faded as he took her in—she couldn’t fully read his expression, but she knew what it meant anyway. It was the look before a kiss. Wait. But that wasn’t right. They had barely talked, and her man was inside, waiting for her. Jules’s hand loosened on the hem of her dress and before she knew it, she’d dropped it, letting it trail over the water. His shoulders straightened as he took a deep breath, his veined forearms bulging as he dug his palms against the side like he’d jump in after her.
Jules attempted a smile. She should put an end to this, break the silence that held a growing power over her the longer it lasted, and so she tried to joke it away. “I didn’t catch your name, pool boy.”
He gave a half smile and looked down. “Roman Verona.” He looked up and his expression hardened like he knew exactly what his name would do to her.
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