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"Five Stars and ORGASMIC heat level! Thief of Hearts is an excellent book and the writing is great. Though very short the story moves at a nice pace and is over with too soon. Kate is a kick ass female who decides to take matters into her own hands and find her lover by doing whatever is necessary. Her dream lover is a man of mystery and, besides the fact that he is an incredible lover, you really don’t have much information on him. I feel I should state that this is the third book in the series and you should really read the others before you read this one to have a better understanding of what’s going on. The sex scenes are hot and involve submission and bondage as well as a liberal dose of erotica. I love Kimberly Zant’s writing and her creative plots are always pleasing. Great for lovers of erotica Thief of Hearts: Stolen will be a keeper on your shelf." Angel Brewer, Just Erotic Romance Reviews
"Thief of Hearts: Stolen is highly erotic and emotionally powerful. Reading all three books together is exhilarating and intense experience that mere words just can’t describe." Road to Romance
"Four Stars! Ms. Zant’s Thief of Hearts series has been an emotional and erotically wild ride and while I’m sad to see it end, I am pleased that I found it. Readers of the BDSM genre will definitely enjoy this series." Vikky Bertling, Just Erotic Romance Review
"Four Angels! ... this book is one super hot read that will have you hot and ready for your dream lover." Fallen Angel Reviews
"Five Angels! This reviewer found this book very arousing, a page turner. The Characters had body and were very full of life. The sex scenes were done with class and enjoyable." Fallen Angel Reviews
Thief of Hearts:
STOLEN
By
Kimberly Zant
© copyright December 2003, Kimberly Zant
Cover art by Jenny Dixon
New Concepts Publishing
5202 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
I knew him only as the Thief of Hearts, and yet I knew him far more intimately than anyone I had ever known—and he knew me far more intimately than anyone ever had. He had stolen into my room in the dead of night while I lay sleeping and brought me passion such as I’d never known, capturing my body and enslaving me heart and soul. Had he given me a taste for bondage? I wondered. Or was it that he knew, as he seemed to, my inner most secrets, the ones I’d hidden even from myself?
Twice he had come to me in the night and bound me and thrilled me to the depths of my soul, and that easily I was addicted, forever altered and desperate for him to return.
He didn’t. Night after night I climbed into my lonely bed, hoping tonight, surely this night, he would return to me and love me as he had loved me before.
It was love to me. Nothing that made me feel like he made me feel could be purely animal lust and only that. It was deeper, stronger, a bondage of the soul. He felt it too. I knew I wasn’t imagining it. In capturing me he had found himself as tightly bound. He had as much as said so.
When time passed and he didn’t return, I began to question that and I would be hurt and depressed for a time, and then angry. Then I would begin to worry that, perhaps, something had happened to him to prevent him from coming back to me.
I knew him only as a dream lover, who called himself the Thief of Hearts, but I was convinced that he was real. And, if he was real, then the real world had interfered. It must have. If not, then he would no more have been able to stop coming to me than I could refrain from wanting him.
I began to think more and more about how it was that he had managed it at all, simply appeared as if he were nothing more than a ghost, but I simply couldn’t accept that he was a ghost. He was real. He was alive.
I had never been particularly interested ‘otherworldly’ manifestations, or anything of a paranormal nature, but my obsession with my dream lover turned my mind in that direction and I began to scour the book shops for an answer. When I finally ran across a book about astral projection, I was convinced that I had found the answer. He had dream walked into my life, and somehow, he no longer could.
Or, perhaps, it was that he no longer would? Something he had said that last time led me to believe that he thought that I was not real, that I was a figment of his imagination. Perhaps he had become concerned that he had fallen in love with a woman who did not exist?
The question was, could I go to him?
The answer, unfortunately, was no.
I studied the books I found religiously. I did everything that they suggested, and still I could not dream walk. I could dream of him. I frequently did, but it was no more than a dream and there was a vast difference between my dreams and what had happened before, adding weight to my convictions.
Obviously, I had no psychic abilities whatsoever.
Just as surely, he did—but he was being stubborn.
Thwarted of that ‘simple’ solution, I began to rethink things. Finally, it occurred to me that he was, almost certainly, ‘in’ to the bondage scene. If I had any hope of finding him, I must gather my courage and find my way into the ‘secret’ world of bondage.
When all was said and done, I was a coward, however, and it took real desperation to boost my rabbit ass over that hurtle. In point of fact, I had no interest in bondage in general, but one man in particular, and I wasn’t entirely certain how I was to ‘enter’ the bondage scene to look for him without actually participating.
I began by cruising the bondage shops. I was a little surprised to discover that there were several, two that focused entirely on bondage/submission/domination and several others that carried every sex toy imaginable, which included those used by the bondage crowd.
I decided to focus on the bondage shops, certain that if my lover could be found, that would be the place. Window shopping was not the way to go, I soon discovered. The clerks began to look at me as if they thought I was bent on shop lifting.
I had to admit going in three or four times a week and ‘looking around’—mostly at the other patrons—might look suspicious. Finally, I began to buy a trinket here and there, just to assure my welcome. Whenever the shop wasn’t too full, I’d let the sales clerk show me around and try to pump her for information. Finally, I became such a regular that the clerk began to mellow towards me and asked me which of the ‘clubs’ I liked best.
There were clubs?
She gave me the name of her favorite spot. A lot of people liked to club hop, but she thought it was just too much going from one to another, and, really, what was the point? If you stayed in one spot, sooner or later everyone made it through the club anyway.
I told her I really appreciated it but I was fairly certain I didn’t have the nerve to show up by myself. She took the hint and invited me to go with her.
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