Read an Excerpt From A Match Made In Vegas (Betting On Love Book 4) by Debra Salonen

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Four sisters named after royalty, with dowries fit for a queen. Their Gypsy fortuneteller mother predicted each would marry a prince…of sorts.

Dear Santa: #1 wish? A child of my own. P.S.: Heartbreaker single dad from Christmas past need not apply—even if he does have an adorable son.

After then-cop Mark Gaylord--her less than honorable prince charming--left her at the altar, Alexandra—Alexa—Parlier poured her hopes, dreams, and trust fund into creating the Dancing Hippo Day Care. Now, Mark’s back. With his traumatized young son. Both need her help. How can she say no when it’s almost Christmas…and her heart hasn’t forgotten how much she loved him?

Dear Santa: #1 wish? See my son smile again. #2 wish? Find a way to redeem myself in the eyes of the woman I never stopped loving.

Mark isn’t expecting a miracle. He screwed up nearly everything good in his life when he broke Alexa’s heart, but none of that is Braden’s fault. The poor kid has been through hell, thanks to his late mother. Mark needs help and there’s no one he’d trust more with his son than the woman he should have married.

A MATCH MADE IN VEGAS is Book 4 in the Betting On Love series. If you're a fan of romance with a side of suspense, you'll love this action-packed story that introduces you to the kind of family Debra Salonen—past winner of Romantic Times Reviewer's Career Achievement "Series Storyteller of the Year" award --is known for. “Debra Salonen captures reader attention with multifaceted characters, layered conflict and fast pacing.”—Pamela Cohen, Romantic Times

Buy A MATCH MADE IN VEGAS -- the perfect, second-chance-at-love holiday romance between two memorable characters who will do anything for the sake of a great kid. Enjoy Christmas in Las Vegas, but remember: when your heart's on the line, there’s no such thing as a safe bet.

 

EXCERPT:

 

About forty minutes later they left Alexa's with two giant boxes of Christmas decorations in the back of the truck.

Braden was so excited he could barely sit still.

"T-tr-tree? A b-b-big one?"

The more excited he got, the more pronounced his stutter became, but Mark had learned not to correct him. For the most part, he understood what Braden was trying to say, so why draw attention to his problem—especially on a special night like this?

"Mom and I always get our trees from the Boy Scouts. The lot is a couple of miles down on Charleston Boulevard. Shall we try there first?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"J-jingle b-bells," Braden called out from the backseat. Mark glanced at Alexa, who leaned forward and turned up the volume on the radio. The kid certainly had acute hearing. Mark hadn't even realized there was music playing.

He found himself tapping his toe as Braden and Alexa harmonized to a country version of "Jingle Bell Rock." His smile grew as he realized that this was exactly the kind of holiday memory he'd hoped to create for his son, but it wouldn't have been the same without Alexa.

Just at that moment, she looked at him and touched his arm. With a quick look toward the backseat, she put one finger to her lips and pointed toward Braden. Mark cocked his head and listened.

To his utter shock, the little boy sang the entire refrain…without stuttering.

"What the—" he exclaimed.

The singing stopped.

Alexa shifted in her seat and said, "You sing really nicely, Braden. Good job." Then she quickly turned and pointed toward a cheerfully lit tree lot. "There it is. I hope they still have some good ones."

Mark wanted to ask her about his son's temporary cure, but he didn't get the chance. Moments later, Alexa and Braden, hand in hand, disappeared into a forest of dark green spruce and pines. To Mark's surprise, the place was packed with shoppers. He'd figured he was the last person in town to buy his tree. Not so, apparently, but the stock was going fast. There was a long line at the checkout counter.

"Alexa? Braden?"

"We're over here," a familiar voice answered.

He found them examining a shoulder-high, candle-shaped tree that looked healthy and smelled great. ''This variety is my personal favorite, but I can never remember what it's called. White spruce?"

Mark found a tag, but the black scrawl only gave the price, not the kind. "Doesn't matter what it is. I like it. How 'bout you, Bray? Is this the tree for us?"

Braden nodded exuberantly.

"Okay, then." Mark rubbed his hands together and picked it up.