New York's Finest Rebel

‘Another fantastic novel by Trish Wylie which you will devour in a single sitting! Brimming with passion, emotion, romance and humour, and featuring a fantastic heroine and a gorgeous hero … sheer perfection!’

—CataRomance on

O’Reilly’s Bride

‘With its splendid cast of amiable characters, hilarious one-liners, heartwarming romance and powerful emotional intensity … another triumph for the hugely talented Trish Wylie, one of the brightest stars of contemporary romance!’

—CataRomance on

Project: Parenthood

‘Absolutely wonderful! Trish Wylie’s spellbinding tale will tickle your funny bone and tug at your heartstrings. Featuring characters which leap off the pages, realistic dialogue, sweet romance, sizzling sex scenes, electrifying sexual tension and dramatic emotional intensity … feel-good romance at its finest!’

—CataRomance on

White-Hot

TRISH WYLIE worked on a long career of careers to get to the one she wanted from her late teens. She flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder while playing the promotions game, patted her manicured hands on the backs of musicians in the music business, smiled sweetly at awkward customers during the retail nightmare known as the run-up to Christmas, and has got completely lost in her car in every single town in Ireland while working as a sales rep. And it took all that character-building and a healthy sense of humour to get her dream job, she feels—where she spends her days in reindeer slippers, with her hair in whatever band she can find to keep it out of the way, make-up as vague and distant a memory as manicured nails, while she gets to create the kind of dream man she’d still like to believe is out there somewhere. If it turns out he is, she promises she’ll let you know … after she’s been out for a new wardrobe, a manicure and a make-over …

Also by Trish Wylie

The Inconvenient Laws of Attraction

Breathless! Bride of the Emerald Isle Claimed by the Billionaire Bad Boy Her One and Only Valentine Her Real-Life Hero Her Unexpected Baby

Did you know these are also available as eBooks?Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

New York’s Finest Rebel

Trish Wylie

To my lovely editor Flo, fellow member

of the ‘I heart Daniel Brannigan’ fanclub.

‘Every girl knows there are days for heels and days for flats. It could be a metaphor for life if you think about it. Let’s all make today a heels day, shall we?’

SIREN red and dangerously high, they were the sexiest pair of heels Daniel Brannigan had ever seen. Silently cursing the amount of time it took to haul the cage doors into place, he watched them disappear upstairs.

He really wanted to meet the woman in those shoes.

Punching on the button until there was a jerk of upward movement, he tried to play catch-up in the slowest elevator ever invented. After the first of three endlessly monotonous trips, he knew the stairs were going to be his preferred mode of travel in the future. But until he had all of his worldly possessions—few that they were—carted from his truck to the fifth floor, he didn’t have a choice.

A flash of red appeared in his peripheral vision.

Target acquired.

Turning in the small space, he assessed each detail as it came into sight. Thin straps circled dainty ankles, the angle of her small feet adding enough shape to her calves to remind him that he was overdue for some R & R. If she lived in the same apartment block he was moving into, it was a complication he could do without. But if the effect her shoes had on his libido was anything to go by, he reckoned it was worth the risk. He hadn’t earned the nickname Danger Danny for nothing.

The elevator jarred to an unexpected halt, an elderly woman with a small dog in her arms scowling pointedly at the boxes piled around his feet. ‘Going down?’

‘Up,’ he replied curtly. Rocking forward, he nudged the button with his elbow.

Don’t disappear on me, babe.

The adrenalin rush of pursuit had always done it for him, as had the kind of woman it took to wear a skirt so short it made him stifle a groan when it came into view. Flared at mid-smooth-skinned-thigh, the flirty cheerleader number lovingly hugged the curve of her hips before dipping in at a narrow waist. He glanced at the fine-boned hand curled around handles of bags labelled with names that meant nothing to him, mouth curving into a smile at the lack of anything sparkling on her ring finger. On the floor below his, she turned to speak to someone in the hall. To his frustration it meant he couldn’t see her face as the elevator creaked by. Instead he was left with an image of tumbling locks of long dark hair and the sound of sparkling feminine laughter.

Fighting with the cage again when the elevator stopped, he did what he had done on his previous trips and nudged a box forward to fill the gap. In the following moment of silence, footsteps sounded on the stairs. A trickle of awareness ran down his spine as he turned, gaze rising until he was looking into large dark eyes. Eyes that narrowed as his smile faded.