When her Uncle Jack is arrested on drug charges, Sammie Murphy hops the first plane to Key West. Being rescued isn’t on her uncle’s to-do list, though. When he admits guilt and instructs her to go home, Sammie knows with 100% certainty something is seriously wrong.
Veteran DEA agent Enrique Santos knows when a bust is solid. So why is he allowing Jack Murphy’s niece to mess with his head? He’s been set-up and nearly killed by a woman like her before, and he’s not about to make that mistake again.
But then things at Murphy’s bar take a turn for the dangerous, leaving Sammie entangled in Enrique’s dark past. Forced to second-guess his convictions, Enrique has no choice but to kidnap the one woman who could destroy everything...including his heart.
Wendy lives in the Chicago area. She has a Masters in Social Work and worked in the child welfare field for twelve years before she decided to pursue her dream of writing.
Between teaching college classes, trying to get her morbidly obese cat to slim down and tempering the will of her five-year-old granddaughter, who's determined to become a witch when she turns six so she can fly on her broom to see the Eiffel Tower and put hexes on people--not necessarily in that order--somehow Wendy still manages to fit in writing. She spends the remainder of her days inflicting mayhem on her hero and heroine until they beg for mercy.
She has written three books in the Hard Targets trilogy, Hard to Kill, Hard to Trust and Hard to Stop. In addition, she has two books through Entangled Publishing, The Millionaire’s Deception, and Bad to the Bone, two self-published books, The Christmas Curse and Accused, and two interracial romances, Fractured and Mama Said.
That man was relentless. She threw off the covers, slipped into her robe, and stomped down the back stairs. Blowing an errant hair out of her eyes, she yanked open the door. “I overslept. Can you wait while I shower?”
He walked in, his hands resting on his hips. “Did somebody wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”
She rolled her shoulders trying to unkink the tightness that had set in from hours and hours of tossing and turning. Her hair refused to behave, so she did the best she could by pushing it over to one side and resting it on her shoulder.
She peered at Enrique through hooded lids. Wasn’t it a crime to not only look positively gorgeous this early in the morning, but to be so happy, too? “Ooooooh, I’m so tired.”
“Stop whining.” Those gosh darn dimples appeared. “Besides, after Tony’s, I’m going to take you to Sloppy Joes. You know, the place Hemmingway made famous.”
Her eyes opened a little wider. “As in Ernest?”
“Is there another? Come on.”
“Wait a minute. Before I agree, I have a few questions and some stipulations.”
“I’m all ears.”
“This started out being a mission to find out more about what happened to Tony, and believe me, I appreciate you helping me out, but now with lunch…is this a date?”
He rubbed his fingers under his chin as if considering her question. “You and me alone, eating, talking, maybe even having a good time. Yeah, it might be a date.”
She tsked. “I told you I don’t want to go out with you.”
“Okay, wrong answer.” He shook his head. “It’s not a date.”
“You’re only trying to appease me.”
“And your point?” His mischievous smile remained infectious.
Still, her head felt leaden from lack of sleep and Enrique’s grand plan wasn’t helping. It only made her thoughts more muddled. She walked to the sink, opened the bottle, and swallowed two aspirins.
She needed fortification. And a clear head. Spending time with him outside the bar was not a good idea. But there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop herself.
Instead, she sucked in a deep breath and laid out the ground rules. “Here’s the deal: no touching, no handholding, no flirting, no sexy talk, no dancing, and absolutely no kissy face.”
“No kissy face? Well, that might be a deal breaker.” He drew in an exaggerated breath as if weighing the possibilities. “You didn’t mention no sex did you? I might have you on a technicality.”