Ménage in Manhattan: The Complete 5-Book Ménage Romance Collection Read online

  Ménage in Manhattan: The Complete 5-Book Ménage Romance Collection

  Tara Crescent

  Text copyright © 2015-2020 Tara Crescent

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

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  The Bet

  The Bet

  1. Bailey

  2. Sebastian

  3. Daniel

  4. Bailey

  5. Daniel

  6. Bailey

  7. Sebastian

  8. Bailey

  9. Sebastian

  10. Daniel

  11. Bailey

  12. Bailey

  13. Daniel

  14. Bailey

  15. Bailey

  16. Daniel

  17. Sebastian

  18. Daniel

  19. Sebastian

  20. Bailey

  21. Daniel

  22. Bailey

  23. Bailey

  24. Sebastian

  25. Daniel

  26. Bailey

  27. Bailey

  28. Bailey

  29. Daniel

  30. Sebastian

  31. Bailey

  32. Sebastian

  33. Bailey

  34. Bailey

  35. Daniel

  36. Daniel

  37. Sebastian

  38. Bailey

  39. Bailey

  40. Sebastian

  41. Daniel

  42. Bailey

  43. Sebastian

  44. Bailey

  45. Daniel

  46. Bailey

  Epilogue

  The Gamble

  The Gamble

  1. Gabriella

  2. Carter

  3. Gabriella

  4. Dominic

  5. Gabriella

  6. Carter

  7. Gabriella

  8. Dominic

  9. Gabriella

  10. Carter

  11. Carter

  12. Gabriella

  13. Dominic

  14. Gabriella

  15. Dominic

  16. Gabriella

  17. Carter

  18. Gabriella

  19. Gabriella

  20. Gabriella

  21. Dominic

  22. Gabriella

  23. Dominic

  24. Carter

  25. Gabriella

  26. Gabriella

  27. Gabriella

  28. Dominic

  29. Gabriella

  30. Carter

  31. Gabriella

  32. Dominic

  33. Carter

  34. Gabriella

  35. Dominic

  36. Gabriella

  37. Gabriella

  Epilogue

  The Heat

  The Heat

  1. Piper

  2. Owen

  3. Wyatt

  4. Piper

  5. Owen

  6. Piper

  7. Owen

  8. Wyatt

  9. Piper

  10. Owen

  11. Piper

  12. Wyatt

  13. Piper

  14. Owen

  15. Piper

  16. Owen

  17. Wyatt

  18. Piper

  19. Piper

  20. Wyatt

  21. Wyatt

  22. Owen

  23. Piper

  24. Wyatt

  25. Owen

  26. Wyatt

  27. Piper

  28. Owen

  29. Piper

  30. Piper

  31. Owen

  32. Piper

  33. Wyatt

  34. Piper

  35. Piper

  36. Piper

  37. Piper

  38. Owen

  39. Piper

  40. Wyatt

  41. Owen

  42. Wyatt

  43. Owen

  44. Piper

  45. Piper

  46. Wyatt

  47. Owen

  48. Piper

  49. Piper

  50. Wyatt

  51. Piper

  52. Wyatt

  53. Piper

  54. Owen

  55. Piper

  56. Piper

  57. Wyatt

  58. Piper

  59. Owen

  60. Piper

  61. Piper

  62. Wyatt

  Epilogue

  The Wager

  The Wager

  1. Wendy

  2. Asher

  3. Hudson

  4. Wendy

  5. Asher

  6. Wendy

  7. Hudson

  8. Wendy

  9. Asher

  10. Hudson

  11. Wendy

  12. Asher

  13. Wendy

  14. Hudson

  15. Wendy

  16. Asher

  17. Wendy

  18. Asher

  19. Wendy

  20. Hudson

  21. Wendy

  22. Asher

  23. Hudson

  24. Wendy

  25. Asher

  26. Wendy

  27. Asher

  28. Hudson

  29. Asher

  30. Wendy

  31. Asher

  32. Wendy

  33. Hudson

  34. Asher

  35. Wendy

  36. Hudson

  37. Wendy

  38. Asher

  39. Wendy

  40. Asher

  Epilogue

  The Hack

  The Hack

  Prologue

  1. Miki

  2. Oliver

  3. Finn

  4. Miki

  5. Oliver

  6. Miki

  7. Finn

  8. Miki

  9. Finn

  10. Miki

  11. Oliver

  12. Miki

  13. Miki

  14. Finn

  15. Miki

  16. Finn

  17. Oliver

  18. Miki

  19. Oliver

  20. Miki

  21. Finn

  22. Miki

  23. Oliver

  24. Miki

  25. Finn

  26. Miki

  27. Finn

  28. Miki

  29. Oliver

  30. Miki

  31. Finn

  32. Miki

  33. Oliver

  34. Miki

  35. Miki

  36. Finn

  37. Miki

  38. Oliver

  39. Miki

  40. Finn

  41. Miki

  42. Oliver

  43. Miki

  44. Finn

  45. Miki

  46. Oliver

  47. Miki

  48. Miki

  49. Oliver

  Epilogue

  A Preview of Dirty Therapy by Tara Crescent

  About Tara Crescent

  Also by Tara Crescent

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  The Bet

  The Bet


  A rash bet leads to a steamy ménage, but will my unconventional love affair be the biggest mistake of my life?

  Sexy-as-sin billionaire CEO Daniel and tattooed bad-boy chef Sebastian bet fifty thousand dollars that I’d win a game of pool, and they offered to coach me...

  I wasn’t supposed to want them.

  I shouldn’t have become romantically involved with both of them.

  But I couldn’t resist.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  Now the three of us face the loss of everything we’ve worked for our entire lives, and we’re left to ask – can our love survive?

  NOTE: The Bet is a standalone ménage romance (mfm) with a HEA ending and no cliffhangers! It is full of steamy scenes featuring a billionaire businessman, a bad-boy chef and a curvy redhead. Spare panties are recommended.

  The Bet was previously titled Betting on Bailey.

  1

  Bailey

  In Armenia, on the Day of St. Sargis, single women fast all day and eat a slice of very salty bread before they go to sleep. The man that brings them water in their dreams is the man they are meant to marry.

  from Bailey’s Journal of Interesting Facts from around the World

  “Professor Moore,” Maria Rivera knocks at my office door and sticks her head in. “Do you have a moment? Sameer’s reviewing my grant application, and he suggested you look it over as well.”

  I glance at the clock at the bottom of my computer screen. It’s a quarter to seven. I’m supposed to meet my boyfriend Trevor at seven thirty to watch him play pool, and he gets extremely irritated when I’m late. There’s no point telling him that my job is demanding and leaving on time isn’t always an option. According to Trevor, if my job was important, I’d make a lot of money. I don’t, therefore my career is not to be taken seriously.

  “I have,” I tell Maria, rising to my feet and gathering the small pile of rings and bracelets that I’ve taken off to type, “exactly fifteen minutes, then I have to leave.”

  “Thanks so much,” she says gratefully as I follow her into Sameer Shah’s office, slipping my turquoise ring on my finger and fastening the coral bracelet around my wrist. I like the gemstones. I dress, in typical New York style, in black almost all the time. The jewelry adds some color. “It’s the section on gender roles in the Taiga that we thought you should review,” she elaborates.

  Ah. That makes sense. I’m the resident expert on the Siberian Taiga, having spent a year there as part of the research for my doctoral dissertation.

  “Hey Bailey,” Sameer greets me as I walk into his office, his eyes glued to the computer screen. “Pull up a chair, will you? Can you tell me what you think of this bit?”

  I read over his shoulder. Maria’s done a reasonable job describing why the people who live in the remoteness of Siberia are important and why they deserve study. She’s mentioned all the important points — the arrival of the Internet is eroding cohesion in the community, language is being lost and we are, in essence, in a race against time to study and preserve this slice of the world that has so far remained untouched by modern influences.

  “Who’s funding this grant?” I ask her. “The National Science Foundation?”

  She shakes her head. “No, the NSF’s budget has been halved. This grant is from a private company. Hartman. Have you heard of them?”

  “Nope.” I’m not really listening to Maria’s words; I’m digesting the impact of her first sentence. Damn it. I knew the National Science Foundation wasn’t going to budget very much money this year for liberal arts. Everything’s about science and technology these days. It’s a great time to be in the STEM fields, and a terrible time to be in the humanities.

  Thank heavens they’ve already approved my grant to go to Argentina in the fall.

  Of course, thinking of Argentina reminds me of Trevor’s reaction last week when he heard I needed to be away for five months doing research on the myth and the reality of the gauchos in Patagonia. Let’s just say he wasn’t supportive.

  Since I seem to be becoming an expert on ignoring the many reasons Trevor is wrong for me, I push those thoughts to the background and focus on Maria’s problems instead. “Okay,” I pull up a chair and reach for a pad of paper, pushing the bangles back from my right wrist so I’ll be able to write. “This is a great start, but you also need to add…”

  I have multiple mechanisms in place to prevent me from being late. Alarms going off on my phone in fifteen minute intervals. Flashing screens on my laptop warning me to stop working. My computer is even programmed to shut down automatically at seven thirty.

  But I’ve left my cell phone in my office, and engrossed as we are in strengthening Maria’s grant application, none of us hear the alarm when it goes off at seven. There’s another alarm that’s supposed to chime at seven fifteen, but if I can’t tell you if it went off — I don’t hear it either. When I finally look up at Sameer’s screen to check the time, I’m horrified to note that it’s seven thirty five. “Fuck,” I swear. “Fuck. And fuck again. Sorry, Maria. Pretend you didn’t hear me.” I don’t bother apologizing to Sameer. He has the office next to me. He’s heard me curse before.

  She laughs. “Sure thing, Professor Moore,” she says easily. “Thank you so much for your help. This is fantastic.”

  “Sorry to keep you here late on a Friday night,” Sameer adds apologetically. “You doing something fun?”

  “Not really. I’m going to watch my boyfriend Trevor play pool. You guys met him at the faculty mixer two months ago, right?”

  “Ah.” Sameer’s voice is flat, and he exchanges glances with Maria. “Yes, Trevor. You should go.”

  I furrow my brow. Trevor had too much to drink at the mixer, and he’d insulted a bunch of my co-workers by going on an extended rant about the pointlessness of liberal arts. Finally, mortified by his rudeness, I’d had to drag him away. It had not been a good evening, and judging from Sameer’s reaction, Trevor has left an impression.

  I ignore the big honking signs the universe is giving me about my relationship. Making my excuses, I head back to my own office and dig around the stacks of papers till I find my phone. Crossing my fingers, I dial Trevor’s number. As luck would have it, I get his voicemail. “Hey, I’m running late,” I tell the machine. “Sorry! I’m leaving right now, and I’ll see you soon.” The bar Trevor’s team is playing at is in SoHo, a ten minute walk away. With any luck, I’ll only be fifteen minutes late, and he won’t be too pissy.