Thief of Hearts Teaser

 

BDSM Romance, Capture Fantasy

Date Published: September 20, 2024

 

 

They have nothing in common but a difficult past… and a taste for
unusual pleasures…

 

Once a Thief

The good girl: A successful district attorney with a reputation to uphold,
Katherine can’t afford to let go and indulge her secret desires.

The bad boy: Seeing Kate again makes Ex-con Jake Monroe want to live out
every kinky fantasy he’s ever had — with her. Jake’s determined
to tear down Kate’s walls, to push her past her limits. But Kate takes
him further than he ever imagined.

 

Still a Thief

Only Jake can scratch Kate’s secret itch for domination. But if she
lets him take their bedroom play into the real world, it’s only a
matter of time before her colleagues in the District Attorney’s office
find out.

 

Three s Not a Crowd

It’s Halloween, and Kate’s about to learn that three s not a
crowd, and if she’s good, maybe she’ll get a treat as
well.

 

 

EXCERPT

 

Excerpt from Once a Thief

 

The door to Katherine’s office opened with a click. She looked up at
a tall man — tall, dark, and broad-shouldered, wearing a denim jacket over
a white T-shirt and jeans.

Jake Monroe.

Great. Just what she needed., a reminder of her ghetto roots. A reminder of
everything she’d worked so hard to leave behind.

He had the same curly black hair, cut short, and the same jutting angles to
his face. Age had added deep lines to his cheeks and bitterness to his brown
eyes.

And he looked much more dangerous than she remembered.

At least he didn’t give any hint of recognizing her. Maybe she could
keep it that way.

“I’m John Monroe.”

She closed his file and put it facedown on her desk. She wouldn’t
want to see a man like him get angry. No need to let him know she’d
been reading up on him — worse, she’d been looking at his rap sheet.
He’d done three years for his first offense. Armed robbery.

When he reached over her desk to shake her hand, she rose to greet
him.

“Katherine Kern. I’m an assistant district attorney for the
city.”

His big, calloused hand swallowed hers in a firm grip.
“Congratulations,” he said dryly, with an ironic lift of one
eyebrow. Still no glimmer of recognition, though. Maybe she hadn’t
been that memorable.

Even leaning across her wide desk, he towered over her. And he didn’t
release her hand after the perfunctory handshake. No, he held on while his
gaze raked her breasts. Blatantly.

She pulled away and motioned to the chairs that faced her desk. “Have
a seat.”

He did, leaning back and sprawling his legs in front of him as if he were
lounging on a sofa watching Monday night football. Even as a punk teenager,
he’d been muscular, but now… He’d really filled out, with
broad shoulders, a solid chest, and bulging thighs that strained the denim
of his jeans. Maybe he’d spent his time behind bars working out. Or
maybe he’d filled out naturally in the ten years since she’d
seen him.

Time had changed her, too. So much that he didn’t seem to recognize
her. Maybe he never would. She’d kept away from his kind in high
school. As tempting as the bad boys had been, she’d known better than
to play with fire.

She still knew better. Unfortunately. No wonder she hadn’t had a man
in years.

She sat down and folded her arms on the desk in front of her. “You
know why you’re here, John?”

“Yeah.”

He sounded resentful, like one of the kids he was supposed to help. Why had
he volunteered to be a mentor if he didn’t want to be here? Maybe he
hadn’t volunteered. Maybe community service was a condition of his
parole. “You’ll have to be a bit more communicative than that
when you talk to your mentee. Have you prepared anything to
say?”

“No.”

So much for communication.

After a long moment of studying his hands, he spoke. “I can ad lib
just fine. I want to sound natural. Natural and honest.”

“Good. Kids can tell when you’re lying to them.”

He shrugged. “I don’t have anything to hide.”

He stared straight into her eyes, as if he was challenging her. Defensive
— typical for an ex-con. She’d worked with a lot of them. No reason
to treat Jake Monroe any differently than the others, even if seeing him
again brought back a stupid rush of adolescent hormones.

She grabbed the file folder labeled Scott Hopkins and slid it across the
desk to him. “Here’s the boy you’ll be meeting
tonight.”

He straightened up and took it, then slouched back again and opened the
file. “Tell me about him.”

“He’s new to the program. His mom is in and out of rehab all
the time. His older brother supposedly takes care of him when his mother
isn’t home.”

“Is he in a gang?”

“No. He’s a loner.” At least he was curious. Maybe
he’d do a good job after all. “He’s been convicted of
multiple misdemeanors. Our goal is to prevent him from graduating to
felonies.”

“Like I did.”

She might as well be frank. “Exactly.”

He looked amused by her agreement. Full lips tilted up at the corners in a
little smile… almost a smirk.

“If you aren’t going to take this seriously, you might as well
leave right now. There’s no point in establishing a relationship with
Scott if you’re going to flake on him.”

He frowned at that. “I’m not going to flake.”

“You clearly don’t want to be here.”

“You don’t have a clue what I want.” He gave her another
long look, as if assessing her suit. Or the breasts beneath it. “How
did you get stuck with this gig?”

“I volunteered. These kids need all the help they can
get.”

“You’re a D. A., right?”

Where was he going with this? She nodded. “I’m an assistant D.
A.”

“So it’s your job to prosecute criminals, not to help
them.” He sounded like he thought she had the most immoral job in the
world. “Seems strange for you to be running a prevention
program.”

“I’d prefer it if the crime was never committed in the first
place.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Then you’d be out of a job.”

She didn’t have to take this. “We have five minutes before the
session begins. If you can’t be civil, you can wait in the
hallway.” And take those broad shoulders with you.

“Don’t get pissed off, Kate.”

“It’s Katherine.” Wait a minute. She hadn’t gone by
Kate in years.

His eyes gleamed. Now his lips wore a bona fide smirk. As if he recognized
her for the scared, uptight girl she’d been all those years ago.

“So you do remember me.”

His smile didn’t fade. “And you remember me.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“Why didn’t you?”

About the Author

Gemma Woods has no spouse, no children, and no pets. Her family is
imaginary — she writes them. Outside her imaginary world, she enjoys the
typical author hobbies of reading, traveling, and fretting over her dying
houseplants.

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

 

 

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