Title: NO REST FOR THE WANTED
Genre: YA Thriller
Word Count: 90,000
Seventeen-year-old Lora Winters is still stuck with Cole Davis. Dark suit. Hidden earpiece. Crooked smile and the ability to kill anyone with one swift jab to their trachea. It's been the longest year of her life, and he's not going away any time soon. Cole is a junior secret agent… and her 24/7 bodyguard.
Ever since international criminal Charles Holguin used his slimy ways to escape from prison, Lora's parents have gone into over-protective mode. If Holguin's list of crimes isn't bad enough (assassination, embezzlement, stealing an entire Russian security system), he's now after secrets locked away by Lora's late grandfather. And when Holguin arrives in town, Lora must run. Because she has the key.
Now Lora's dyed hair and stick-on tattoos are the disguise of a fugitive. With a one-way ticket to London and a fake passport shoved in her bag, she delves into Cole's world of espionage: sneaking behind locked doors in Milan and stealing Vespas (and kisses) in Paris. But spying isn't all fun. She must unearth her family's dark past before Holguin does, and in the process, decide if she can trust anyone but herself.
"My parents will kill me if the bomb squad interrupts Christmas … again."
The bitter Boston wind tossed my words down the shop-lined street. Cole stood beside me, his back to the display, as I wiped my jacket sleeve against the frost-covered window outside Bettye's Bath Bubbles.
Behind the glass, colorful bars of soap were precariously stacked like a Jenga game. Hundreds of different scents like Blueberry Bliss and Mango Tango were piled high in a multi-colored pyramid until the very last bar, Pickled Pear, topped it off like a green-and-white speckled angel on top of a Christmas tree.
I sighed. Why couldn't my mom have requested anything other than Bettye's soaps? She knew the bomb scanner was crazy sensitive.
"Lora, I fixed the UltraSweep." Cole crossed his arms, looking bored. "After last year's incident with the bubble bath, I've made sure the scanner won't mistake ammonium sulfate for ammonium nitrate again."
"What?" I glared at him. "Are you trying to ruin Christmas?"
Cole ignored me as he eyed the crowd of shoppers hurrying through downtown Boston. At eighteen, he was only a year older than me, but Cole was … well … different. He was always perfectly presentable. From the dark suit that hugged his lean muscular frame to his carefully combed sandy hair, Cole gave off a World's-Greatest-Intern/Your-Daughter-Is-Safe-With-Me vibe.
That's because Cole Davis, with his hidden earpiece and ability to kill anyone with one swift jab to their trachea, was not normal. He was an agent. And, unfortunately, my bodyguard.