Texan Undercover — Anne Marie Novark

Author's Note I call this book my Retro-Read, because the story takes place in 1998 when there were no Smartphones, iPods, Kindles, Bluetooth or WiFi. Not everyone owned a computer, tablets were taken for headaches, and you watched movies on VHS. I hope you enjoy reading Dillon and Claire's story. ~ AM BLURB: Sparks fly and computers crash when Claire Maxwell's cybercafe is used for nefarious purposes. She's thrown into the midst of an undercover operation and doesn't like it one bit. She really doesn't like being thrown in the company of the hot private eye handling the case. Claire doesn't believe in love or happily ever after anymore. Can the handsome P.I. change her mind? Dillon Anderson needs Claire's help to stop a dangerous corporate hacker. What he doesn't need is the sucker punch of desire whenever she's near. Dillon has always avoided beautiful rich women, but avoiding Claire proves to be an impossible mission. Can he get the job done without getting done in himself? EXCERPT: Claire never would have believed she could react this way to a strange man. His spicy aftershave turned her insides to mush. "I have the paperwork filled out," she said, scooting a neatly typed sheet of paper across the desk. "All I need is some ID and your signature." Dillon reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed over his driver's license, then skimmed the paper. Claire stared at the plastic card in her hand. "This says your name is Dillon Andrews." He looked up from the paper, leaned forward and motioned for her to do the same. His gaze locked on her. Mesmerized her. She leaned closer. "Ms. Maxwell," he said, his soft tone just this side of a whisper, "I'm working under an assumed name. The ID is fake. This is an undercover investigation. You need to remember that at all times. Got it?" He carefully enunciated each word, almost in exaggeration, like he was explaining something to an inept child. Claire felt her hackles rise. His eyes held her frozen. He wasn't looking at her like she was a child . . .