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The Spy and I

Author Tiana Smith On Tour
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On sale Feb 13, 2024 | 9 Hours and 29 Minutes | 978-0-593-82611-9
Right place. Wrong person. After a case of mistaken identity, one woman must work with her sister’s sexy spy partner to save the world in this heart-pounding romantic comedy.

The first thing to know about Dove Barkley is that, even though she works as a cyber security analyst, she is one hundred percent not an undercover CIA operative. But when a group of bad guys mistake her for her super-spy sister (news to her!), Dove gets roped into a dangerous government mission that she’d very much rather be left out of, thank you.

Too bad Mendez, the man who claims to be her sister’s partner, says she's in too deep to back out now. He’s smart, capable, and has a body almost distracting enough to make Dove forget about the team of trained assassins after her.

Dove has information that can help prevent a national tragedy, but there’s mounting evidence that Mendez might not be who he claims. More importantly, she's running out of time to save her sister. Because the last thing Dove wants is for either of them to go out with a bang.
Chapter One

If you gave me four minutes, I could give you the world. Okay, so maybe it's more like I could hack into any secure network and give you all the private data stored there. But when that data included someone's credit cards, Social Security number, or complete medical history, it may as well be the world.

I have my limits. I've never hacked into the Pentagon or tried my hand at the FBI's firewalls. I'm good, but I'm not stupid. And yes, if I was being completely honest, some sites definitely took longer. A lot longer. But going off averages, four minutes was more than enough time to ruin someone's good day.

Earbuds in, "I Did Something Bad" by Taylor Swift began playing and the stopwatch in my head started ticking down.

I inserted the USB drive into the server, which uploaded the code embedded there and created a back door into the system. Ten seconds down.

To my right, my own laptop rested, its cursor blinking incessantly, the only real light in this dark room stacked full of computer towers and cords. I sat cross-legged on the cold linoleum floor of Enderlake Enterprises' mechanical room with my back to the wall and eyes on the door.

Thirty seconds. I pulled my laptop over. No time for games; I needed to steal the CEO's cookies. Not the edible kind-though I could really go for a snack right about now-no, what I needed were cookies of the digital variety. I needed to make a fake admin account.

That took almost a minute, the stopwatch in my head steadily ticking louder with each passing second. The perfectly timed song playing in my ears had passed the chorus, letting me know I was slightly behind.

I grabbed the session token by sniffing the traffic, then I brute-forced the password list. A bead of sweat wound down my neck as my fingers flew over the keyboard, inputting a string of code. Two scripts later, I was finally in. A minute and a half down.

Then the real work began. I booted up IceWeasel, generated a target list, and started a Metasploit listener, all with a few practiced keystrokes, the various screens barely having a chance to pop up before I'd moved on to the next task. Three minutes.

One by one I copied the vulnerabilities from the server to my own laptop, the red highlight from the screen reflecting onto my face. A strand of hair fell in front of my eyes, but I couldn't slow my typing to brush it out of the way. Moving on from the red vulnerabilities, I started on the orange.

My automated software covered everything from SSL/TLS layers to basic CGI vulnerabilities and more, so I let it do its thing while I stole a glance at the clock.

Four minutes. My time was up, the stopwatch now ringing in my mind, Taylor's song coming to a close. But I'd already succeeded.

The door to the mechanical room opened, the light spilling from the hallway to my hiding place. Standing in the doorway was the vice president of Enderlake Enterprises-who just so happened to be my old college roommate and a good friend.

"Do you always work in the dark like a criminal?" Nyah flipped on the overhead light, her textured curls silhouetted like a halo around her face. I squinted against the sudden glare and shaded my eyes with a hand. I removed my earbuds and shot her a grin.

"Working like a criminal helps me think like them." I turned my computer around so she could see everything I'd documented. "Bad news is, your network isn't as secure as you'd hoped. Good news is, I did everything on a modified admin account and recorded all my actions so you can easily see how to fix the flaws."

Though my job was honest, it didn't make me a lot of friends. No one liked knowing I could bring down their company with just my pinky finger. It paid well though, and besides some late nights, I couldn't really complain. Companies paid me to find their security flaws, and I obliged, like a modern-day Robin Hood but without the potential for jail time.

Nyah groaned. "When you said you could hack us in four minutes, I was really hoping you were bluffing." Despite her dress slacks, she settled beside me on the floor and took my laptop to scroll through my color-coded cheat sheet.

For the next half hour, I walked Nyah through the vulnerabilities of her network and the steps she'd need to take to fix them. When I could see her eyes glazing over, I started packing up my things.

"I'll do a more detailed analysis over the next couple of weeks, put everything in writing, and send you the documentation for your developers." I slid my laptop into my bag. "I want to make sure I don't miss anything, so that will take more time."

"Thanks, Dove." She stood up and brushed the dirt from her pants. "You're the best."

I shrugged. "Just doing my job."

"Your job of proving to the world that blond girls have brains?" Nyah smiled. "Or that a twenty-seven-year-old can take out one of the oldest tech firms in all of DC?"

I laughed. "Well, I'm only a blond because of a very talented hairdresser, so I'm not sure I can take credit for that one."

My phone buzzed, my sister's face lighting up my screen. My shoulders tensed.

Nyah waved her hand. "Go ahead and take that." She looked down at her watch before glancing back up at me. "I'm supposed to be in a meeting soon anyway. I'll catch up with you later when you send me all the data. You know the way out?"

I nodded, already bringing the phone up to my ear and accepting Madison's call. Nyah was out the door in a cloud of perfume.

In the two seconds it took my phone to connect, my stomach swooped at least three times. Working on this project for Nyah had allowed me to forget real life for a second. When I was coding, it was easy to feel confident. Powerful. But when I was back in reality? I was just me again. Still single. Still disturbingly average and second best to everyone. Including my sister, who had it all and succeeded in everything she tried.

She knew what she was doing in life. I didn't even know what I was doing for dinner.

"Hey, Mads, what's up?" I zipped my bag and slung it over my shoulder.

"You'd better have plans tonight." Her voice was playful-the fun ribbing of a sister who most likely knew my "plans" consisted of a bubble bath and maybe a scented scrub if I was feeling fancy.

"Sorry to disappoint." I exited the mechanical room and made my way toward the elevators.

"No, you're not."

She was right. A homebody by nature, I found most social outings either stressful, boring, or a brain-bleeding combination of the two. Especially lately, when all I really wanted to do was stay home and drown my sorrows in ice cream. My sister, on the other hand, was one of those pesky people-person types. The never-take-no-for-an-answer type. She could seamlessly fit into any group and make even the most reclusive person feel at ease in her presence. It was a gift.

One that I did not have.

"It's Friday," she continued when I stayed silent. "You promised you'd get a date for this weekend." My big sister. Always looking out for me. Or always judging-take your pick.

She was one to talk though. It wasn't like she was happily married or anything. But, to give her credit, she was a whole lot better than me at relationships. She'd once dated a guy long-distance for three years. I mean, who does that? Superheroes like Madison, that's who. I, on the other hand, rarely made it to the second date, whether they lived in the same city or not.

"I have an interview in an hour with a journalist," I replied. "He's doing a story on women in tech. Does that count as a date?"

"Not unless the journalist happens to be single and has the build of a Hemsworth brother."

I pushed the button outside the elevator and watched the light illuminate each floor number on its rise to where I was waiting.

"We've been kind of flirty over Messenger for the last, oh, week or so as we set up this appointment."

It had to count for something. I was trying. That was all she could ask of me. And I had to admit, I was curious about this man who managed to flirt despite never having met me in person. He'd ask me random questions and I'd reply with something coy, all the while hinting that he was trying to get out of meeting in real life by doing the interview over Messenger. Then he'd respond how he'd never dream of it and ask me something else that would bring me slowly out of my shell. I blushed, then remembered my sister was waiting for me to continue.

"It's a 'top 30 under 30 in the DC area' kind of story," I added. Hopefully that would be enough to get her off my back. I was just fine putting my career before guys, but Madison seemed to think my chances of becoming a spinster cat lady increased exponentially with every month I was still single. I didn't even have a cat. I pushed the elevator button again, like that would make it move faster. "You should be proud."

She sighed. "Of course I'm proud. But I'd be prouder if you left your apartment once in a while."

"I'm out of my apartment now."

"For work, I'm guessing." She didn't sound mad. Just resigned. She'd taken on the mother role a long time ago, and old habits were hard to break. Even now that we were both grown and out of the foster system, she always checked up on me. It was nice. And also annoying.

"Yes, but in my defense, I also saw an old college friend. So, two birds, one stone, and all that jazz."

She paused, and I knew I wouldn't like whatever she was about to say next. It was the reason I dreaded picking up her call.

"Dove, Everett broke up with you two years ago. It's time to move on."

I sucked in a breath. It was just like her to judge me when I was already at rock bottom. I stepped into the elevator and jabbed the button for the lobby with more force than was probably necessary.

Perfect people shouldn't get an opinion on other people's lives. Madison always fit into all her clothes without dieting or watching calories. She dated successful models and important business executives. When it was time to move on, she was the one who called things off. Unlike me, who, as much as I hated to admit it, had had my fair share of humiliating dumpings. Like with Everett-who I didn't want to think about right now. Point was, she shouldn't get to have a say.

"Hey, I'll have you know," my throat was closing up and my voice came out strangled, "I went on a blind date last week."

Only because a girl in my apartment building badgered me into going out with her cousin. But hey, it totally counted. And it'd hopefully move the topic away from Everett.

"Really? How'd it go?" Madison sounded way too excited for someone whose wardrobe consisted mainly of cocktail black. I thought back to the date in question and cringed.

"Not well." I chewed on my lip and debated how best to answer. I lowered my voice, even though there wasn't anyone in the elevator with me. "He thought I was an . . . an escort, Mads." Even now, almost a week later, the embarrassment stained my cheeks red.

Madison paused, the phone line crackling with static as the elevator descended. There were four seconds of total silence before she spoke again.

"You told him you were a penetration tester, didn't you?" She was barely holding back laughter and I had to stop myself from glaring at the empty air.

"It's the truth!" My voice broke and I took three deep breaths.

Madison's sigh was weighty, loaded with accusations. "Honest hacker, Dove. That's the term you should use for people who don't know any better."

I snorted, but she talked over me. "Then you explain that you're basically a glorified computer nerd that hacks into systems for a living and companies pay you to point out their security flaws. There's no need for proper titles." Her voice dripped with disapproval. If she'd been here in the elevator with me, her frown would have made me pause. The expression "if looks could kill" was practically made for Madison.

"If he's going to make assumptions before I've even had a chance to go over the official terminology of my occupation," I said, "he doesn't deserve the explanation in the first place. His reaction told me everything I needed to know about him."

She didn't argue with me there. Honestly, that was a good thing, because I didn't feel like arguing. I felt like crawling into a hole and staying there for the better part of a century.

"I think I'm done with the dating scene for a while," I said. Which was a big understatement. I didn't plan on going on another date for at least a year. If ever. Men were overrated.

"Okay, so no date tonight. But you have to get out of your apartment."

I hummed in noncommittal agreement, because really, it wasn't like she'd find out. As a travel photographer, Madison was out of town more often than she was in it, and what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. That was probably half the reason she tried so hard to play matchmaker. She didn't want me to be alone so much. Truth was, I didn't mind the solitude.

I stepped off the elevator and into the lobby, an airy space decorated with plush chairs and an oversized entry desk that was trying too hard to look stately. I placed my guest pass on the counter and gave a small wave to the receptionist as I left.

Over the phone, Madison sighed. "I guess we'll just have to do something together." The hint of humor was back in her voice, her big reveal no doubt meant to capture my attention.

"You're in town? When'd you get back?" And why hadn't she told me before now?

"Only just, and I'll be leaving again in the morning. So, this is a limited-time offer. How about Brock's? I'll pay."

I frowned. "Not fair. You know I can't resist their chocolate mousse."
"Fast-paced and tremendously fun, The Spy and I will delight all lovers of spy romance. It's highly entertaining and frequently hilarious, and has thrills galore that will keep you riveted right to the end. Make sure you buckle up, because you're in for a fabulous ride!"—India Holton, national bestselling author of The Secret Service of Tea and Treason

“We spy a new rom-com fave in this flirty and fast-paced story of mistaken identities and matched wits. An unputdownable charmer.”—Emily Wibberley and Austin Siegemund-Broka, authors of The Break-Up Tour

“An absolute treat for any reader seeking a thrilling and fun escape into a world of mistaken identities, espionage, and sizzling romance. Heart-pounding action is blended seamlessly with laugh-out-loud moments—all propelled by a cast of characters so vividly drawn that it's impossible not to be sucked into their antics and stay hooked until the very last page.”—Kyla Zhao, author of The Fraud Squad

"The only thing more explosive than actual explosions on this impossible mission led by a sexy secret agent and a computer hacker with a case of mistaken identity is the chemistry between this unlikely duo. The Spy and I will have you on the edge of your seat rooting for the good guys to win—and kiss—in this exhilarating debut by Tiana Smith."—Jo Segura, author of Raiders of the Lost Heart

“Smith keeps the pages turning with plenty of action and humor, and even Dove's hacker language is entertaining.”—Washington Independent Review of Books

“This is the debut rom-com for author Smith, and it’s fantastic. It’s a fun story to follow, with some funny moments, and two characters you enjoy following along with.”Red Carpet Crash

“This mistaken-identity spy romance is fast-paced, mixing twists and turns with humor and not a small amount of chemistry.”—Library Journal

“Glimmers of humor leaven the suspense and the love story is just as likely to get hearts racing as the mystery. The end result is a first-rate romantic thriller.”—Publishers Weekly
© Pepperfox Photos
Tiana Smith is a web designer turned novelist who grew up in the Rocky Mountains. She graduated from Westminster University with double degrees in Honors and English with a focus in creative writing. In her spare time she's learning sign language with her hard of hearing husband and she volunteers with special needs individuals attending the bi-weekly activities for Utah County's SNAP program. View titles by Tiana Smith

About

Right place. Wrong person. After a case of mistaken identity, one woman must work with her sister’s sexy spy partner to save the world in this heart-pounding romantic comedy.

The first thing to know about Dove Barkley is that, even though she works as a cyber security analyst, she is one hundred percent not an undercover CIA operative. But when a group of bad guys mistake her for her super-spy sister (news to her!), Dove gets roped into a dangerous government mission that she’d very much rather be left out of, thank you.

Too bad Mendez, the man who claims to be her sister’s partner, says she's in too deep to back out now. He’s smart, capable, and has a body almost distracting enough to make Dove forget about the team of trained assassins after her.

Dove has information that can help prevent a national tragedy, but there’s mounting evidence that Mendez might not be who he claims. More importantly, she's running out of time to save her sister. Because the last thing Dove wants is for either of them to go out with a bang.

Excerpt

Chapter One

If you gave me four minutes, I could give you the world. Okay, so maybe it's more like I could hack into any secure network and give you all the private data stored there. But when that data included someone's credit cards, Social Security number, or complete medical history, it may as well be the world.

I have my limits. I've never hacked into the Pentagon or tried my hand at the FBI's firewalls. I'm good, but I'm not stupid. And yes, if I was being completely honest, some sites definitely took longer. A lot longer. But going off averages, four minutes was more than enough time to ruin someone's good day.

Earbuds in, "I Did Something Bad" by Taylor Swift began playing and the stopwatch in my head started ticking down.

I inserted the USB drive into the server, which uploaded the code embedded there and created a back door into the system. Ten seconds down.

To my right, my own laptop rested, its cursor blinking incessantly, the only real light in this dark room stacked full of computer towers and cords. I sat cross-legged on the cold linoleum floor of Enderlake Enterprises' mechanical room with my back to the wall and eyes on the door.

Thirty seconds. I pulled my laptop over. No time for games; I needed to steal the CEO's cookies. Not the edible kind-though I could really go for a snack right about now-no, what I needed were cookies of the digital variety. I needed to make a fake admin account.

That took almost a minute, the stopwatch in my head steadily ticking louder with each passing second. The perfectly timed song playing in my ears had passed the chorus, letting me know I was slightly behind.

I grabbed the session token by sniffing the traffic, then I brute-forced the password list. A bead of sweat wound down my neck as my fingers flew over the keyboard, inputting a string of code. Two scripts later, I was finally in. A minute and a half down.

Then the real work began. I booted up IceWeasel, generated a target list, and started a Metasploit listener, all with a few practiced keystrokes, the various screens barely having a chance to pop up before I'd moved on to the next task. Three minutes.

One by one I copied the vulnerabilities from the server to my own laptop, the red highlight from the screen reflecting onto my face. A strand of hair fell in front of my eyes, but I couldn't slow my typing to brush it out of the way. Moving on from the red vulnerabilities, I started on the orange.

My automated software covered everything from SSL/TLS layers to basic CGI vulnerabilities and more, so I let it do its thing while I stole a glance at the clock.

Four minutes. My time was up, the stopwatch now ringing in my mind, Taylor's song coming to a close. But I'd already succeeded.

The door to the mechanical room opened, the light spilling from the hallway to my hiding place. Standing in the doorway was the vice president of Enderlake Enterprises-who just so happened to be my old college roommate and a good friend.

"Do you always work in the dark like a criminal?" Nyah flipped on the overhead light, her textured curls silhouetted like a halo around her face. I squinted against the sudden glare and shaded my eyes with a hand. I removed my earbuds and shot her a grin.

"Working like a criminal helps me think like them." I turned my computer around so she could see everything I'd documented. "Bad news is, your network isn't as secure as you'd hoped. Good news is, I did everything on a modified admin account and recorded all my actions so you can easily see how to fix the flaws."

Though my job was honest, it didn't make me a lot of friends. No one liked knowing I could bring down their company with just my pinky finger. It paid well though, and besides some late nights, I couldn't really complain. Companies paid me to find their security flaws, and I obliged, like a modern-day Robin Hood but without the potential for jail time.

Nyah groaned. "When you said you could hack us in four minutes, I was really hoping you were bluffing." Despite her dress slacks, she settled beside me on the floor and took my laptop to scroll through my color-coded cheat sheet.

For the next half hour, I walked Nyah through the vulnerabilities of her network and the steps she'd need to take to fix them. When I could see her eyes glazing over, I started packing up my things.

"I'll do a more detailed analysis over the next couple of weeks, put everything in writing, and send you the documentation for your developers." I slid my laptop into my bag. "I want to make sure I don't miss anything, so that will take more time."

"Thanks, Dove." She stood up and brushed the dirt from her pants. "You're the best."

I shrugged. "Just doing my job."

"Your job of proving to the world that blond girls have brains?" Nyah smiled. "Or that a twenty-seven-year-old can take out one of the oldest tech firms in all of DC?"

I laughed. "Well, I'm only a blond because of a very talented hairdresser, so I'm not sure I can take credit for that one."

My phone buzzed, my sister's face lighting up my screen. My shoulders tensed.

Nyah waved her hand. "Go ahead and take that." She looked down at her watch before glancing back up at me. "I'm supposed to be in a meeting soon anyway. I'll catch up with you later when you send me all the data. You know the way out?"

I nodded, already bringing the phone up to my ear and accepting Madison's call. Nyah was out the door in a cloud of perfume.

In the two seconds it took my phone to connect, my stomach swooped at least three times. Working on this project for Nyah had allowed me to forget real life for a second. When I was coding, it was easy to feel confident. Powerful. But when I was back in reality? I was just me again. Still single. Still disturbingly average and second best to everyone. Including my sister, who had it all and succeeded in everything she tried.

She knew what she was doing in life. I didn't even know what I was doing for dinner.

"Hey, Mads, what's up?" I zipped my bag and slung it over my shoulder.

"You'd better have plans tonight." Her voice was playful-the fun ribbing of a sister who most likely knew my "plans" consisted of a bubble bath and maybe a scented scrub if I was feeling fancy.

"Sorry to disappoint." I exited the mechanical room and made my way toward the elevators.

"No, you're not."

She was right. A homebody by nature, I found most social outings either stressful, boring, or a brain-bleeding combination of the two. Especially lately, when all I really wanted to do was stay home and drown my sorrows in ice cream. My sister, on the other hand, was one of those pesky people-person types. The never-take-no-for-an-answer type. She could seamlessly fit into any group and make even the most reclusive person feel at ease in her presence. It was a gift.

One that I did not have.

"It's Friday," she continued when I stayed silent. "You promised you'd get a date for this weekend." My big sister. Always looking out for me. Or always judging-take your pick.

She was one to talk though. It wasn't like she was happily married or anything. But, to give her credit, she was a whole lot better than me at relationships. She'd once dated a guy long-distance for three years. I mean, who does that? Superheroes like Madison, that's who. I, on the other hand, rarely made it to the second date, whether they lived in the same city or not.

"I have an interview in an hour with a journalist," I replied. "He's doing a story on women in tech. Does that count as a date?"

"Not unless the journalist happens to be single and has the build of a Hemsworth brother."

I pushed the button outside the elevator and watched the light illuminate each floor number on its rise to where I was waiting.

"We've been kind of flirty over Messenger for the last, oh, week or so as we set up this appointment."

It had to count for something. I was trying. That was all she could ask of me. And I had to admit, I was curious about this man who managed to flirt despite never having met me in person. He'd ask me random questions and I'd reply with something coy, all the while hinting that he was trying to get out of meeting in real life by doing the interview over Messenger. Then he'd respond how he'd never dream of it and ask me something else that would bring me slowly out of my shell. I blushed, then remembered my sister was waiting for me to continue.

"It's a 'top 30 under 30 in the DC area' kind of story," I added. Hopefully that would be enough to get her off my back. I was just fine putting my career before guys, but Madison seemed to think my chances of becoming a spinster cat lady increased exponentially with every month I was still single. I didn't even have a cat. I pushed the elevator button again, like that would make it move faster. "You should be proud."

She sighed. "Of course I'm proud. But I'd be prouder if you left your apartment once in a while."

"I'm out of my apartment now."

"For work, I'm guessing." She didn't sound mad. Just resigned. She'd taken on the mother role a long time ago, and old habits were hard to break. Even now that we were both grown and out of the foster system, she always checked up on me. It was nice. And also annoying.

"Yes, but in my defense, I also saw an old college friend. So, two birds, one stone, and all that jazz."

She paused, and I knew I wouldn't like whatever she was about to say next. It was the reason I dreaded picking up her call.

"Dove, Everett broke up with you two years ago. It's time to move on."

I sucked in a breath. It was just like her to judge me when I was already at rock bottom. I stepped into the elevator and jabbed the button for the lobby with more force than was probably necessary.

Perfect people shouldn't get an opinion on other people's lives. Madison always fit into all her clothes without dieting or watching calories. She dated successful models and important business executives. When it was time to move on, she was the one who called things off. Unlike me, who, as much as I hated to admit it, had had my fair share of humiliating dumpings. Like with Everett-who I didn't want to think about right now. Point was, she shouldn't get to have a say.

"Hey, I'll have you know," my throat was closing up and my voice came out strangled, "I went on a blind date last week."

Only because a girl in my apartment building badgered me into going out with her cousin. But hey, it totally counted. And it'd hopefully move the topic away from Everett.

"Really? How'd it go?" Madison sounded way too excited for someone whose wardrobe consisted mainly of cocktail black. I thought back to the date in question and cringed.

"Not well." I chewed on my lip and debated how best to answer. I lowered my voice, even though there wasn't anyone in the elevator with me. "He thought I was an . . . an escort, Mads." Even now, almost a week later, the embarrassment stained my cheeks red.

Madison paused, the phone line crackling with static as the elevator descended. There were four seconds of total silence before she spoke again.

"You told him you were a penetration tester, didn't you?" She was barely holding back laughter and I had to stop myself from glaring at the empty air.

"It's the truth!" My voice broke and I took three deep breaths.

Madison's sigh was weighty, loaded with accusations. "Honest hacker, Dove. That's the term you should use for people who don't know any better."

I snorted, but she talked over me. "Then you explain that you're basically a glorified computer nerd that hacks into systems for a living and companies pay you to point out their security flaws. There's no need for proper titles." Her voice dripped with disapproval. If she'd been here in the elevator with me, her frown would have made me pause. The expression "if looks could kill" was practically made for Madison.

"If he's going to make assumptions before I've even had a chance to go over the official terminology of my occupation," I said, "he doesn't deserve the explanation in the first place. His reaction told me everything I needed to know about him."

She didn't argue with me there. Honestly, that was a good thing, because I didn't feel like arguing. I felt like crawling into a hole and staying there for the better part of a century.

"I think I'm done with the dating scene for a while," I said. Which was a big understatement. I didn't plan on going on another date for at least a year. If ever. Men were overrated.

"Okay, so no date tonight. But you have to get out of your apartment."

I hummed in noncommittal agreement, because really, it wasn't like she'd find out. As a travel photographer, Madison was out of town more often than she was in it, and what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. That was probably half the reason she tried so hard to play matchmaker. She didn't want me to be alone so much. Truth was, I didn't mind the solitude.

I stepped off the elevator and into the lobby, an airy space decorated with plush chairs and an oversized entry desk that was trying too hard to look stately. I placed my guest pass on the counter and gave a small wave to the receptionist as I left.

Over the phone, Madison sighed. "I guess we'll just have to do something together." The hint of humor was back in her voice, her big reveal no doubt meant to capture my attention.

"You're in town? When'd you get back?" And why hadn't she told me before now?

"Only just, and I'll be leaving again in the morning. So, this is a limited-time offer. How about Brock's? I'll pay."

I frowned. "Not fair. You know I can't resist their chocolate mousse."

Reviews

"Fast-paced and tremendously fun, The Spy and I will delight all lovers of spy romance. It's highly entertaining and frequently hilarious, and has thrills galore that will keep you riveted right to the end. Make sure you buckle up, because you're in for a fabulous ride!"—India Holton, national bestselling author of The Secret Service of Tea and Treason

“We spy a new rom-com fave in this flirty and fast-paced story of mistaken identities and matched wits. An unputdownable charmer.”—Emily Wibberley and Austin Siegemund-Broka, authors of The Break-Up Tour

“An absolute treat for any reader seeking a thrilling and fun escape into a world of mistaken identities, espionage, and sizzling romance. Heart-pounding action is blended seamlessly with laugh-out-loud moments—all propelled by a cast of characters so vividly drawn that it's impossible not to be sucked into their antics and stay hooked until the very last page.”—Kyla Zhao, author of The Fraud Squad

"The only thing more explosive than actual explosions on this impossible mission led by a sexy secret agent and a computer hacker with a case of mistaken identity is the chemistry between this unlikely duo. The Spy and I will have you on the edge of your seat rooting for the good guys to win—and kiss—in this exhilarating debut by Tiana Smith."—Jo Segura, author of Raiders of the Lost Heart

“Smith keeps the pages turning with plenty of action and humor, and even Dove's hacker language is entertaining.”—Washington Independent Review of Books

“This is the debut rom-com for author Smith, and it’s fantastic. It’s a fun story to follow, with some funny moments, and two characters you enjoy following along with.”Red Carpet Crash

“This mistaken-identity spy romance is fast-paced, mixing twists and turns with humor and not a small amount of chemistry.”—Library Journal

“Glimmers of humor leaven the suspense and the love story is just as likely to get hearts racing as the mystery. The end result is a first-rate romantic thriller.”—Publishers Weekly

Author

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Tiana Smith is a web designer turned novelist who grew up in the Rocky Mountains. She graduated from Westminster University with double degrees in Honors and English with a focus in creative writing. In her spare time she's learning sign language with her hard of hearing husband and she volunteers with special needs individuals attending the bi-weekly activities for Utah County's SNAP program. View titles by Tiana Smith