Blurb:
You can buy anything in Las Vegas, including the best sex of your life.
Isadore and her friends are in Las Vegas for the ultimate fantasy. As gamblers who wager tens of thousands of dollars per hand, they have access to an exclusive service for successful women: The High Rollers Club. Isadore is about to learn that the handsome escorts of The High Rollers Club are extraordinary men. Men skilled not only in making a woman reach sexual heights she'd never thought impossible, but in the case of Jericho Widow, capable of making Isadore feel something she's never felt before: a desperate, all-consuming need for more.
But just as Isadore thinks she's died and gone to heaven in Sin City, the sobering truth comes out: these gorgeous men have secrets, and Jericho's may be too hot for her to handle.
Read an excerpt:
He touches my arm as he steps past me to the end of the limo. A knock on the trunk alerts the driver to engage the release, allowing the door to swing upwards. Jericho lifts out a metal ice chest which he sets on the trunk lid after he closes it again. Inside the chest is a bottle of champagne and two chilling flutes.
I've never been swept off my feet. That's something I've heard other women describe, something I've read about or dreamed about, though I've never been quite certain of the mechanics of it. What would it take to truly amaze me and steal my heart? What could a man do that would convince me, he is The One?
I know what it is now. It's champagne at the edge of the desert when the moon is a crescent above our heads. It's Jericho Widow pouring for me and handing me my glass in such a way that our fingers brush. I tell myself to remember every detail of this—the smell of his cologne, the feel of the night breeze against my cheek, the popping sound of the champagne bubbles—because this may never happen to me again. And if it doesn't, at least I'll have this memory to replay on all those lonely nights that are sure to come.
"Do you like this?"
It's not a question I would have expected of self-assured Jericho Widow. But I've been misreading him from the beginning. Maybe it's time to stop making assumptions.
With the glass at my lips, I reply softly, "I love this."
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