An action-packed, second-chance rom-com about two rival spies who must join forces in order to stay alive, from New York Times bestselling author Ally Carter.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Ally Carter’s The Blonde Who Came In From The Cold, which is out August 5th 2025.
Ten years ago, they joined the CIA.
Six years ago, he left the game.
Five years ago, they fell in love.
One year ago, she ran out into the cold with absolutely no intention of ever coming back.
And two minutes ago, they woke up, bloody and bruised and handcuffed together in the dark.
They don’t know where they are. They don’t know how they got there. And they have absolutely no idea who is after them or what this nameless, faceless villain wants.
The only thing that’s clear is that, after ten years of covers and chemistry, secrets and lies, these two rival spies have been sucked into their greatest mission yet, and now they’re going to have to team up to stay alive. (If they don’t kill each other first.)
TEN YEARS AGO
CAMP PEARY, VIRGINIA
Alex
The room smelled like burned coffee and flop-sweating geniuses. The new recruits were trying to be cool, sure, but acting cool and being cool were two totally different things. And The Guy just stood there, looking…indifferent. Like he’d seen the movie, read the book. He knew the twists and nothing could surprise him. He was bored. And maybe that’s why he didn’t look around or study the people. Instead, he stayed on the far side of the room, studying Alex.
He was more like a nature biographer—the Jane Goodall of covert operations—and if he stood still enough and stayed quiet long enough, then two dozen keenly observant people might fail to notice his existence.
Except…forearms. And a stare that was probably going to turn Alex into ash.
“Is that…” Tyler trailed off, following her gaze, and Alex felt the words rising up in her throat No, that guy isn’t bothering me! “Michael Kingsley?” Wonder filled Tyler’s voice. He let out a laugh. “It is! No way!” he called out with a grin. The Guy shifted his gaze off of Alex and the room suddenly felt cold without the heat of it. “I don’t know if you remember—”
“Tyler.” The Guy held out a hand. “Of course I remember you.”
“Of course.” Tyler gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I forgot.” He tapped his brain in a gesture that made Alex want to ask a million questions, but Tyler was already pulling The Guy into a backslapping hug. “I thought you were dead.” It was a joke—or it was supposed to be, but Alex watched Tyler remember a moment too late that it wasn’t funny. “I’m sorry. I—”
“Yeah, we kind of fell out of touch, didn’t we? How have you been?” It was a graceful cover, an easy exit, and Tyler took it.
“I’ve been good. Just…” Tyler must have followed The Guy’s gaze which had, of course, had gone back to Alex. “Oh, I’m sorry. This is Alex. Alex, meet Michael Kingsley. Mike and I…” He trailed off, like he really didn’t know what to say. “Our parents…”
“We were neighbors,” The Guy filled in. “For a while.”
Tyler gulped. “Yeah. A while.” An awkward silence descended, and Tyler looked down at the floor, a little sheepish. “I heard about… I’m sorry…”
Heard about what?
Sorry about what?
Alex was brimming with questions because she was, at her core, a nosy bitch and hence: spy school. But she was also smart enough not to push it.
“I’m gonna grab a coffee.” She was aware, faintly, of Tyler walking away, but Alex didn’t follow. It was like she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but stand there, overflowing with questions she couldn’t ask.
Like had he been following her at the hotel last night? Waiting for her? How did he know her name? And why did he look like a dark cloud was hovering over his head all of a sudden? But the question she most wanted to ask was why her? Was she so unqualified that he’d had to track her down at an airport Ramada and steal her chicken fingers?
Alex was suddenly too hot. Her face was flushing and her fingers were shaking and it was all she could do to unzip her heavy coat, but then The Guy’s gaze just shifted to her chest—though not for the reasons men usually stared at Alex’s chest.
“Is that…”
She glanced down at her t-shirt. “I lie for a living.” She pointed to the words as she read them.
“Very…covert.”
“It’s called irony, Cowboy.”
“If you’re not going to take this seriously—”
“I left my Future Spy hoodie at home.”
Alex had never seen someone stumble while standing still. “Tell me you’re not serious.”
“Of course I’m not serious.” He gave a sigh of relief. “If you think I’m coming to the Farm without my Future Spy hoodie, you don’t know me at all. Except—oh wait. You don’t know me.” Alex wasn’t hot anymore. If anything, she was freezing when she lowered her voice. “At all.”
“I knew this was going to be a disaster.”
“Take it easy, Cowboy.” Alex wanted to roll her eyes. “You know who no one thinks is a spy? The chick wearing the hoodie that says ‘future spy.’”
“This isn’t a game, Ms. Sterling.”
Alex reached for a donut. She took a big bite and felt the glossy sugar glaze break against her tongue—sweet and a little bit spikey. “Then why does it feel like I’m winning?”
The look on his face told her he felt it, too. She should have been scared and trembling and cowering in his presence. Alex didn’t know who he was or how he knew so much about her, but he was good at this. She could just tell—from the stillness to those ridiculously competent fingers to the way he’d inferred half of her life story just by watching her order takeout.
“I got it at the International Spy Museum.” She glanced down at her t-shirt then licked donut off her fingers. “I bet they could find something in your size if you wanted.”
“No. Thank you.” The words were clipped and brisk—like little pieces of sleet that had been chasing them for twelve long hours.
“So…” She took a long, slow look around the place. There were tables and chairs and a high-tech screen. Part of Alex wanted a wall to slide aside, revealing a plexiglass elevator or, at the very least, a hidden cache of weapons, but what she got was a room that was so chilly she kept her coat on and another glare from The Guy.
“Do I get to pick my own code name?” She asked him. “Can I be—”
“No.”
“Do you think any of those chairs are actually ejector seats?”
“No.”
“Trapdoors?”
“No.”
“Are martinis the official drink, and if I wanted mine stirred instead of shaken, what—”
He pushed off from the beam and stood upright—leaned closer, but Alex had to bite back a grin.
“Is this a joke to you?” It was the loudest she’d ever heard him. A pair of trainees talking not far away trailed off and glanced in their direction. They were causing a scene, which Alex was pretty sure was a super spy no-no, but it didn’t feel like a failure. She’d flustered Mr. Unfluster-able, and Alex thought someone might rappel down out of the rafters and give her a medal.
“At the very least…” she dropped her gaze and her voice “…can I wear a switchblade in a garter belt? Please? Please?”
He was opening his mouth to chastise her—or maybe just gape—when a voice said, “You can borrow mine.”
