The New York Dares Bundle (Ebook)

DARE TO SURRENDER
Isabelle Masters is done…
Done with her cheating boyfriend.
Done with his domineering ways.
Just done.

Taking off in her leased Mercedes to start over turns out to be the best decision she’s ever made—despite being arrested for grand theft auto and hauled off to a local police station. Being rescued by the most unlikely person possible, Gabriel Dare, makes it all worthwhile. After all, she’s yearned for the sexy man for years—yet now is her chance to finally take the plunge and dare to become the independent woman she’s always wanted to be. But can she be in control of her life if she surrenders to a man like him?

DARE TO SUBMIT
Is running away easier than giving in?

Decklan Dare has everything he wants and he wants Amanda Collins. Which is perfect since Amanda wants him—especially his no-strings-attached approach to casual sex. Emotions are overrated, but the sex isn’t. They both know it and both desire it. But as their connection deepens, Decklan, a man who’s used to being in charge, finds that Amanda can’t be controlled. But she has her reasons. She just might be hiding something—something that won’t let her dare to get too close.

DARE TO SEDUCE
It’s now or never…

Billionaire Max Savage knows it’s time—time to convince Lucy Dare that she belongs with him–even if she’s on the arm of another man. His only option is to seduce her and show her how they’re meant to be together, how their bodies react to one another—no matter the consequences. But will Lucy dare to succumb to her desires?

He begged me not to walk out the door. I did it anyway. The scariest part? How much I wanted to go. I’d spent years of my life fully invested in a relationship I’d thought meant everything to me. How could all the emotion disappear?

The answer came to me as I stood in the dark driveway by my car, the only light coming from the headlights of the vehicle I’d turned on with the push of a remote. The feelings had drained away, diminishing slowly from something I’d hoped would be full and wonderful at the age of twenty-two to something painfully empty by the time I’d reached twenty-five. I wasn’t old, but at this moment, I felt ancient and weary down to my bones.

I glanced up just as the first drop of rain touched my face. Normally I’d pull up a hood and protect my out-of-control curly hair from frizz, worried about how I’d look to Lance and the carefully chosen people with whom he surrounded himself. He called them friends, but none knew the meaning of the word. Instead, I embraced the wildness of the storm that suddenly threatened to release from the heavens. Each warm droplet hit and spread across my cheeks, cleansing my skin and my soul. The wind took flight, lifting my hair, blowing strands onto my face and setting the rest of me free.

“Isabelle!” Lance yelled down from the window he’d opened on the second floor of his Hamptons summer home. It had been too long since I’d considered any part of it mine. If I ever had.

I unwillingly looked up.

“You’ve had your tantrum. Now come back inside, and we’ll talk like civilized people. You don’t want to cause a scene in front of the neighbors.”

Heaven forbid, I thought, sparing a last glance at the place I’d lived for too long. The house was Lance Daltry’s showplace, just as I had been nothing more than an accessory. I may have organized his personal life and thrown obligatory dinner parties, but I’d contributed nothing of substance. He’d never allowed me to spend any of the money I’d earned before I’d quit my interior design job. Unnecessary, he’d said. If I loved him, I’d stay home and take care of the house. More like he’d wanted control, and I’d given it to him.

Luckily for me, I’d saved a good amount from those early days. Not so luckily, I’d let Lance invest my money and maintain control of those accounts. And what were the chances that money would be available for my withdrawal on Monday morning? I closed my eyes at the thought.

Although I’d been in Manhattan for a couple of years by the time I’d met Lance, I was still the naïve girl who’d taken a bus from a small town near Niagara Falls and traveled to the big city alone. Too bad I hadn’t had the street smarts to peg Lance for the phony he’d turned out to be.

“Isabelle!” He yelled down to me again, not bothering to come out in the rain to talk to me, let alone apologize like a man. Not when the rain would ruin his thousand-dollar suit and hundred-dollar haircut.

Not talking, I thought silently, and merely shook my head.

Talk was what had gotten me to remain in a relationship I knew I didn’t want with a man I couldn’t trust; it was what had convinced me that Lance, a Wall Street trader, was my soul mate when, in the deepest part of my heart, I knew there was no such thing. And most humiliating, talk was what had led me to believe his lies, despite knowing I wasn’t truly satisfied with him or in his gilded cage.

I didn’t need therapy to tell me why I’d been so susceptible to Lance’s charm and desire to own me. The childhood I didn’t like to think about held the answers. But having escaped him now, one thing was certain. I wasn’t going back.

“Would you quit being a child and get back here!” Lance tried once more, patronizing me even though he was the one in the wrong. Another favorite ploy of his.

Shaking, I climbed into my beloved car, slamming the door and escaping Lance’s tirade. I started the engine and paused, breathing in deep, the events of the last few minutes rushing through my brain like a bad film.

I’d been on our shared laptop, searching for recipes I’d stored there. Seeing a file I didn’t recognize, I’d clicked. And the graphic, sexual images of a naked and sweaty Lance along with my beautiful neighbor, who’d dared to call herself my friend, had flashed on the screen. Nausea had risen at the visual proof of what I’d only suspected before.

I shivered at the memory of those images, proud of how I’d walked out without a word—or a suitcase. My body was frozen, my heart encased in ice. Although I could turn on the heated seats, the reminder of what it felt like to be numb with betrayal would keep me safe in the future.

I turned on the ignition, but surprisingly, no water works mixed with the dampness from the rain. Instead, adrenaline raced through my veins faster than even my beloved car could take a highway. I ought to be afraid. Panicked. Yearning to turn around and go back to the security I’d known.

My foot pressed the accelerator, and I backed out of the driveway without looking back. I might not know where I’d go or what I’d do, but I was moving forward. At last.

On the satellite radio, the 1980s Bugles song proclaimed that video killed the radio star. Untrue, I thought, as I drove into the dark night. Radio had thrived anyway. And tonight, though video killed my dream of living happily ever after in a life I thought I’d carefully crafted to prevent loneliness, those graphic sexual images of betrayal wouldn’t destroy me. Instead, they’d set me free.

I was arrested a mile outside of Manhattan. Grand theft auto, the cop said. Bullshit, I replied. The baby Benz belonged to me.

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