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Who knew three words held such destructive power? No, not THOSE three words. I’m talking about the evil word trio that’s my own personal kryptonite:
I dare you.
I was six when Darcy Patrick moved next door. By the time we were eight, we were best friends. At fifteen, I gave a classmate a black eye for calling her names. At sixteen, she talked me through asking my crush to prom. I helped her get over her first heartbreak at nineteen. Two years later, she returned the favor.
It wasn’t until I was twenty-nine I realized I loved her. And because I was too stupid to do anything about it, at thirty, I lost her for good on a dare.
Darcy Patrick is tired of watching her best friend, Elliott Taber, date the wrong kind of woman. When his latest flavor of the month walks out on him, she dares him to let her find his next date. Elliott agrees, but only after Darcy agrees to allow him to do the same. The dare is on.
The dates take place on the same night. One is an epic fail. The other is just plain epic.
Elliott isn’t prepared for the onslaught of emotions hitting him as Darcy seemingly finds everything she ever wanted with the man he set her up with. He should be happy for her. He should leave her alone. But he can’t.
So he makes one more dare . . .
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