Ditching The Dream (Dream Series) Read online

  Praise for Ditching The Dream and Isabelle Peterson:

  ~~OMG Finally a hot read that isn’t for young adults. I think we can all relate with Elizabeth and what she’s going through. We all need that journey of discovery when your life gets bogged down by family and responsibilities. Ditching the Dream is a must read!

  —Stephanie Bailey Minton

  ~~Isabelle Peterson has perfectly portrayed a woman facing a mid-life crisis. Now that Elizabeth’s children are grown, she finds herself in an empty, loveless marriage. In order to discover who she really is, and if she can survive on her own two feet, Elizabeth sets out on a journey that leads her to places, and bedrooms, she never imagined! Ditching the Dream is one of those books that leaves you thinking for weeks after reading.

  —Jennifer Anne Davis, author of The Power to See

  ~~Isabelle Peterson’s Ditching the Dream was one relatable emotional romance. The excitement had me turning the pages to the very end.

  —Stephanie Rose

  ~~Ditching the Dream is a hot and steamy romance which constantly keeps you wanting more. As a reader you don’t have to be married with children to relate with her unhappy and broken relationship. Even though I am a generation younger than Elizabeth, I was able to connect with her on her quest for self discovery. Not only is this a quick easy read, but it made me really think about what really matters in a relationship.

  —Brittany Franko

  ~~Ditching the Dream was such a refreshing change from a lot of the books I have read. It is so nice to have a female lead that is well educated and mature.

  —Veronica from The After Dark Divas Book Club

  ~~Ditching the Dream takes you on a journey of self discovery, wants, love, loss and ultimate fulfillment, taking you on a wild ride, you’ll be thrilled you took.

  —Becca Manuel of Becca the Bibliophile

  ~~Such a great read with some extremely hot scenes. I loved Ditching the Dream from the moment I started to read to moment I put it down. Isabelle is an extremely talented writer, and I feel privileged that she shared this story with me. Amazing.

  —Jade Morton

  Ditching The Dream

  by Isabelle Peterson

  Copyright © 2013 Isabelle Peterson

  Kindle Edition

  WARNING: EROTIC ROMANCE… This book contains subject material of an adult nature intended for readers of 18 and older, maybe even 21 and older. In these pages you will find graphic language and sexual encounters that some readers might disagree with: regular sex, BDSM, oral, sex toys, anal and threesomes. You’ve been warned. Happy reading!

  DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. It is not based on my life, nor any person living or dead. Names, characters, places, and events are the creation of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously, and any resemblance is entirely coincidental. Any reference to historical events, real places or real people are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 Isabelle Peterson

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Cover designed by Kari Ayasha, Cover To Cover Designs.

  Edited by MaryAnn Inabinet, MAI Editing Services

  Formatting by Paul Salvette, BB eBooks

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to everyone who has had a dream and gone for it.

  Table of Contents

  Praise for Ditching the Dream

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Epilogue

  Chasing The Dream

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  How do I start this section of the book? I don’t want anyone to feel slighted. Everyone has been so wonderful. I could list in proximity to me, but then how do I stress how important my peeps from Europe are? If I start with people who got me to write this book to begin with, my family would feel hurt…

  Well – I guess I will just jump in.

  To my husband, Marc, and our amazing kids. Your patience with my time and absorbing my wild mood swings while I wrote this book, putting up with hastily thrown together dishes, unmopped floors and cleaning your own bathrooms – you are all unbelievable. Your enthusiasm was surprising and inspiring. Thank you for putting up with me.

  The most amazing support team who inspired me to write, have let me bounce crazy ideas off of them, helped me with wording, found errors (sometimes extensive), encouraged me to keep writing and answered all of my inane questions (Quizzy Izzy, is in the house!), and lent insight to all sorts of topics covered in this book (in alphabetical order by first name):

  Amy H., Ana D., Barbara M., Becca M., Berenice Z., Bev H., Brit F., Jade M., Jamie K., Jennifer Anne D., Kari A., Kim K., Laura C. Laura H., Skye T., Stephanie M., Stephanie Rose G., Tami, and Veronica M. of the After Dark Divas Book Blog.

  My editor, MaryAnne at MAI Editing Services – you are a godsend.

  To authors of the New Adult/Contemporary Romance/Erotica who have come before me… Thank you for opening up this powerful and empowering genre into the mainstream.

  AND to you… The reader that bought this book… Thank you for your interest, your trust, and your comments.

  Where can you find me?

  You can always check in on my website: isabellepeterson.com. A lot of fun little things there like Maps and recipes.

  Or visit me on Facebook – Facebook.com/IsabelleKPeterson (there’s a K in there… a K for kis
ses.)

  Follow me on Twitter: @IzzyKPeterson

  Kisses to you all…

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Acqua di Gioia, Aerosmith, Apple (and it’s products iPhone, Macbook, and KeyNote), Bailey’s Irish Cream, Beefeaters Gin, Coco Channel Mademoiselle Perfume, Coca-Cola (aka Coke), Colorado State University, Columbia University, Crumbs Bake Shop, David Gandy, Drakkar Noir Cologne, Guess Clothing, H&M Department Store, Heineken Beer, Hyatt Hotel and Grand Central Hyatt, JFK Airport, Johnny Depp, Johnny Walker Black, Kahlua Coffee Liquor, Kettle One Vodka, Kindle, The David Letterman Show, Lexus, Luke Bryan, Macallan, Mary Tyler Moore Show, Michael Bublé (The Way You Look Tonight (title & lyrics)), Microsoft (and it’s products PowerPoint and Word), Mudslide, NBC, New York University (NYU), Picasso, Pollack, PX90, Queen, The Rolling Stones, Rose’s Lime Cordial, Sirius/XM Radio – The Highway, Southern Comfort, Stradivarius, Tanqueray Gin, Triple Sec, Sam Adams, Silver Oaks Wine, Stags Leap Wine, United Airlines, Wascally Wabbit Vibrator, Worhol.

  PROLOGUE

  Elizabeth sat at the desk, in her cozy Napa Valley living room, staring out the window, as the spring rain formed rivulets down the panes. She took a deep breath, picked up her pen, and slowly released the air burning in her lungs. With a trembling hand, attempting her neatest penmanship, she started…

  Dear Greg –

  There’s no easy way to say this –

  Oh, that’s not right! Angrily, Elizabeth crumpled the sheet of stationary and threw it into the fireplace.

  The large photo that hung above the mantle caught her attention. Her lovely, perfect family. Greg, her husband of twenty-two years, and their three beautiful children. Bradley was only twenty-one years old, in his last year of college earning a business degree. Carter, twenty years old, was a sophomore in college studying anthropology. And Phoebe, now nineteen, was a freshman in college studying dance and physics – she was always a diverse one. But Elizabeth couldn’t smile at the picture. A lone tear escaped her eye, mimicking the raindrops on the window pane.

  With another breath, Elizabeth pushed away the tear with the back of her hand and once again picked up the pen.

  Dear Greg –

  You are patient, generous, and loving under all conditions. You are successful, handsome, and smart. And you are perfect. Not always right, but always reaching for the stars to be the best.

  When we met in college, I knew… I knew you would provide, protect, and care for me. You were safe. Comforting. Full of promise. I said “I do” without reservation, even though everyone warned me. And I’ve loved being married to you.

  She stopped and looked at her left hand. She contemplated the platinum and diamond solitaire, and matching platinum band, that had sat so comfortably – yet uncomfortably – for more than two decades.

  I’ve always known just what to expect with you. What to buy you for your birthday and Christmas. What you like to eat. What you are willing to try. How much starch to use on your shirts.

  But as much as I know, there is so much I don’t know. I went from my parents’ house, to the dorm, to your house. I never lived on my own, made my own way, or depended on myself. I don’t know who I really am. I know that I’ve worked very hard for the past twenty-four years to be the perfect girlfriend, then wife, for you. And although I love that, this past year in this house with all the kids gone has shown me that I am mainly a keeper.

  And kept.

  I don’t live.

  I exist.

  I know that you feel the distance, too.

  The problem is me – it’s not you. I know that sounds cliché, but it is the God’s honest truth. For as long as I can remember, all I’ve done is take care of others – and seldom have I taken care of me. I think I may have forgotten how.

  I love you. But over the past several months – I’ve come to realize that I don’t know if I’m in love with you… And I need to be.

  I need some time to sort my thoughts. I’ll be back. We’ll talk through this. But I need to know who I am and what I am capable of. I want a job, and to pay my own bills and provide for me. I don’t know if I will be successful, but I know I need to try. And I don’t know how long it will take. Three months? Six months? Longer?

  I know that you will be able to track me down through credit cards and my cell phone. I’m asking that you don’t. I have Daddy’s money, I’ll be just fine.

  I need this.

  We need this.

  I’ll be in touch soon.

  Yours,

  Elizabeth

  She carefully folded the two page letter and tucked it into an envelope, then shuffled the letter amongst the mail of the day.

  Slowly, she made her way through the first floor toward the garage door. She turned and looked one last time at her comfortable, safe home. There were the photos of the kids through the years. There was the furniture she had painstakingly shopped for. There was the wall with the markings of the kids’ growth on the wall by the laundry room… With a deep breath, Elizabeth turned and then proceeded to her car in the garage.

  She climbed into her black Lexus SUV and opened the garage door. With a trembling hand, she started the car, put it in reverse, and backed out in search of new dreams.

  CHAPTER 1

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to New York’s JFK Airport. The local time is seven twenty-four in the evening and the temperature is fifty-eight degrees. We thank you for flying United Airlines and hope that your flight was a pleasant one. Your baggage will be at carousel number…”

  I watched as all around me passengers fired up their phones and started to collect their bags from under the seats in front of them. I grabbed my purse and pushed my Kindle inside, not like I’d gotten anything read in the six and half hour flight from San Francisco. Just like I couldn’t pay attention to anything the crabby flight attendant was saying. Something about shifting luggage and connecting gate information. I couldn’t think at all.

  Had I really, impulsively, left my husband? I mean, I’d thought about it for years. Especially in the last couple of weeks. Not for anything he’d done, but more for all the stuff he didn’t do… and maybe a little that he did. I was pretty surprised that I wasn’t a wreck. In fact, I felt pretty good. Nervous, but excited. I was in New York. I was starting a new chapter in my life for how ever short, or long, lived it might be.

  As I made my way through the airport, following the signs for the baggage claim, I thought about the last time I was in this airport. I had been with Greg, and we were only on a brief layover to catch a flight to Paris for our tenth wedding anniversary. But it was very different walking through this time.

  Figuring it would take a while for the bags to come around, I stopped in the ladies room to freshen up. While washing my hands, I couldn’t help but study the reflection in the mirror. My long brown hair, which surprisingly wasn’t riddled with grey, hung limply over my shoulders. Its soft wave, that everyone loved, but drove me nuts, especially on humid days, was in rare form after the flight. Frustrated, I reached into my purse in search of an elastic hair tie to collect the frizzy locks into a pony. My hazel eyes appeared bright and ready for anything, but I saw the sadness there. Did anyone else? I wondered. I reapplied a touch of lipstick and headed to the baggage claim.

  I scanned the boards, and locating my flight, made my way to carousel number eight. Most of the people around me were businessmen and women. I guess that was because it was a Monday. There was only one family with two small kids, one of whom was wailing and carrying on about who knows what. Boy! I didn’t miss those days! I felt bad for the parents, who looked like they wanted the day to be over.

  Most everyone else was on their phones, checking email or texts or calling for their rides. I felt like blending in, so I pulled out my iPhone and turned it on. While I waited for it to boot up, I found that I was holding my b
reath, not knowing what to expect. Finally, the phone buzzed to life and I saw a couple missed calls and texts from Greg. Did he come home early? Does he know already?

  Putting on my big girl panties, yet playing it safe, I opted to read the texts. Just a couple of mundane texts.

  4:43PM

  Can you pick up my dry

  cleaning? I think the pants

  I was looking for this morning

  might be there. Thx. G.

  5:13PM

  Going to be late. Aaron needs

  the final numbers for the Wilson

  project by start of day tomorrow.

  Should be home by 8:00p. Hope

  that doesn’t mess up dinner. What

  is for dinner anyway? G.

  5:48PM

  Hey. Been texting and calling you.

  Are you home? Out? Why haven’t

  you answered or picked up? And

  your cell is going straight to vmail.

  Did you run out of battery

  again? G.

  Well, I’m safe from the inquisition, for a little longer at least. He wouldn’t know for another few hours that I wasn’t home, and that I wouldn’t be… indefinitely. I assumed that the voicemails were a repeat of the texts. He always did that – echoed his text in a voicemail. What was the point in that?

  An alarm signaled and the baggage carousel starting up, so I shoved my phone into my bag and kept my eyes open for my red suitcases. Two of them. Cost $180 in extra baggage fees, but “ya gotta do what ya gotta do.” Better than going shopping for all new clothes, right? Not as much fun, but more practical. The money in my personal savings account, that held my inheritance money from when my father passed, had to last me as long as possible, and a trip to Fifth Avenue would not help the cause.

  I saw the first of my two bags come down the belt and I positioned myself to pull it off. Just as I was about to grab my suitcase, my purse fell off my shoulder and I missed grabbing the bag. Ugh! Now I’d have to wait for it to go around again.