"It is a real page turner - I hated to put it down even to sleep!" ~~ Goodreads reviews
Trish’s brother, who flies secret missions for the DEA, will die if she makes a wrong move. The suspicious new FBI agent suddenly interested in her defines the word mistake.
In this fast-paced, enemies-to-lovers thriller, Josh Carrington is tortured by the memory of a female operator who paid the ultimate price during a mission. That loss drives his vow to never get involved with a woman who is part of a mission again, especially with his position as an undercover Slye operative now in jeopardy. When Josh inserts as an FBI agent inside a DEA operation in Miami, his first target is Trish Jackson, sister of his number one suspect as a traitor to his country.
Trish battles her inner demons on a daily basis, but when an insane stalker terrorizes her in a deadly game with her brother’s life hanging in the balance, she’ll do anything to protect her only family. Then Josh, the visiting FBI agent in her brother’s office, shoves his way into her life, raising her suspicions as quickly as her pulse. She has too much at stake for a misstep, and Josh threatens everything in her world, including her heart. Josh’s mission shifts from finding the traitor to stopping an attack on Miami. He has one chance to redeem himself from a past mistake but keeping the mysterious Trish out of harm's way – and his arms – until he can determine if she’s also a traitor forces him to choose between duty and breaking a vow that can destroy him.
Josh and Trish must find a way to overcome their mistrust of each other to prevent a dangerous new weapon from being tested on a city full of innocent citizens.
"Blending taut pacing with sizzling tension, a little bit of James Bond with an engaging personal drama, this is a story for suspense fans and romance readers alike." ~~The Romance Reviews
"Dianna Love is doing a fantastic job of weaving everything together! I don't know how she does it, but it is amazing!" ~~ Goodreads
Chelsea was late.
Twelve seconds late.
The kind of late that could cost a life.
Josh Robertson forced his grip to relax before he crushed the crystal glass of thirty-year-old scotch. It wasn’t as though she’d hit traffic making the fifteen-kilometer drive from Framlingham. Maybe dodge a sheep or two in the road, just part of the country ambience this far north of London.
He expected Chelsea to strut across the polished oak floor of this eighteenth century mansion any minute, chin cocked up as if she owned the place. She could do it, too. Pull off pretending she was one step from British royalty and not a bastard child who made her living as a liaison for touchy deals between dangerous people.
A bastard just like him. One of those little things they’d had in common from day one. Another was an obsessive penchant for being on time.
Always. And she demanded it as a nonnegotiable term for her liaison services.
The second hand on his watch marched on with no regard for his sanity. Something had gone wrong.
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