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
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
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.