By Tracey Garvis Graves
Release
Date: August 25
BUY
LINKS:
When
Kate Watts abandoned her law career to open a food pantry in Northeast
Minneapolis, she never dreamed it would be this difficult. Facing the
heartbreaking prospect of turning hungry people away, she is grateful for the
anonymous donations that begin appearing at the end of each month. Determined
to identify and thank her secret benefactor, she launches a plan and catches
Ian —a charismatic hacker with a Robin Hood complex—in the act.
Ian
intrigues Kate in a way no man ever has. But after learning he’s snooped around
on her personal computer, she demands retribution. Impressed with her tolerance
and captivated by her spirit, he complies and begins to slowly charm his way
past her defenses. Time spent with Ian is never boring, and Kate soon finds
herself falling for the mysterious hacker.
But
Ian has enemies and they’re growing restless. In the hacking world, exploiting
a target’s weakness is paramount, and no price is too high to stop an attack. And
when Kate learns exactly how much Ian has paid, she’ll discover just how strong
her love is for the man who has hacked his way into her heart.
“Oh, hi,” she said.
“Imagine running into you here.”
“This is quite a coincidence.”
“It’s not a coincidence at all. I knew
you were following me.”
“You did not.”
“I spotted you hiding behind the plant
when I walked into the bank. Plus I could smell your perfume as soon as I
stepped out here.”
“Did you”—she used her fingers to make
little air quotes—“appropriate money from this bank?” she whispered.
“Of course not. I do all my work from
the Batcave. Believe it or not, I actually bank here. I was just signing some
papers.”
Kate had never seen a man look so
utterly scrumptious while wearing glasses. There was something about the combination
of his hair, his scruff, and the semi-rimless designer frames that made him
irresistible. “Are the glasses a disguise? Because I totally knew it was you.”
“The glasses are real. I often suffer
from eyestrain since I spend so much time on the computer, and I was up late
last night, working.”
“They make you look very smart.” She
took a moment to imagine how his scruff would feel rubbing against her skin if
he were to kiss her.
“I am smart, but I think you mean
devastatingly handsome. More so than normal, that is.”
“You’re so humble.”
“Ready?” He walked to the door and held
it open for her.
“Yes.”
“Follow me.” He looked at her and
laughed. “That shouldn’t be a problem for you.”
They took the elevator to the basement,
and when the doors opened to the parking garage, Kate followed Ian to a row of
cars. He stopped beside one and pulled a set of keys from his pocket.
She gasped.
Ian smiled. “It’s a—”
“1964 Shelby Daytona Cobra Coupe.”
“’65. But color me impressed.”
“My brother Chad was obsessed with this
car. He used to have a poster of it on his bedroom wall. There were only six
built between 1964 and 1965.”
“A bit rare indeed.”
The last authentic Shelby had sold at
auction for around seven million. Ian’s was obviously a replica, of which there
were quite a few, but it was still a very notable vehicle with a price tag that
started in the low six figures. “Helena called it an old blue car.”
He grinned, looking contemplative.
“Technically, that is correct.”
Kate could not resist running her hand
lightly over the Guardsman Blue paint and the white racing stripes on the hood.
The Shelby was unmistakably race-car-like in appearance with its aerodynamic
design and unique body style. Chad was going to be so jealous. “For someone who
values his privacy, isn’t this a bit ostentatious?”
“How so?”
“Rakishly handsome playboy who makes
grand philanthropic gestures and drives a flashy car. Any of this ringing a
bell?”
“Rakishly handsome playboy?”
“Well, if the Prada loafer fits.
Wouldn’t you fly under the radar more easily in, say, a Ford Focus?” she asked.
“A Ford Focus? You want me to tool
around town in a Ford Focus? Jesus, would I still have my balls?”
“No, they cut them off when they hand
you the keys. Of course you’d still have your balls. What kind of question is
that? This conversation has gotten way off track.”
“You mean because we started out talking
about my car and now we’re talking about my balls?”
“Are we?”
“I believe so.”
“Maybe we should go back to talking
about your car.”
“You want to drive it, don’t you?”
“Why would I want to drive your car?”
“Why wouldn’t you want to drive my car?
Can you handle a stick shift?”
“Yes, and rather competently I might
add.”
“That’s an enormous turn-on. Truly.”
She pretended not to hear him. “This is
not a good car for Minnesota winters.”
“Horrible, I agree. My other car has
four-wheel drive, but it’s not nearly as fun to operate as this one.” Ian
dangled the keys in front of her.
He was right. Kate was dying to drive
his car and couldn’t wait to see how it handled. She took the keys, opened the
door, and reached over to unlock the passenger side for Ian. They belted up,
and she started the car.
“Please note that I’m already making
good on my promise, Katie. Because I assure you, driving this car will be the
opposite of boring.”
Tracey Garvis
Graves is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author. Her debut
novel, On the Island, spent 9 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list, has been
translated into twenty-seven languages, and is in development with MGM and
Temple Hill Productions for a feature film. She is also the author of Uncharted, Covet, Every Time I Think of You, and Cherish.
Tracey loves
to interact with her readers and can be found on Facebook and Twitter.
