When we were eleven, Oliver Ford Pemberton dared me to jump off a barn <br>roof. He said you couldn’t break a leg from a 12-foot jump. <br> <br>He lied. <br> <br>(You can also break a collarbone, which served him right as far as I was <br>concerned.) <br> <br>I wish I could say it was the last dare I ever took from him, the last bet <br>I ever made with him, the last time I ever *trusted* Oliver Ford Pemberton. <br> <br>But it wasn’t. <br> <br>Because he had the nerve to grow up gorgeous, charming, and sexy. And as we <br>got older, the dares only got dirtier—and the betting stakes higher—until <br>finally, he left me in pieces. <br> <br>I swore I’d never talk to him again. <br> <br>But twenty years after I took that flying leap, he’s back in my life, <br>daring me to risk everything for him: my job, my self-worth, and my heart. <br> <br>How many chances does true love deserve?