Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Blog Tour + #Giveaway: Steal My Heart by Aimee O’Brian @XpressoTours

Steal My Heart
Aimee O’Brian
Published by: Tule Publishing
Publication date: August 5th 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

When a fantasy turns into a cold reality

Lexanne Harris had a plan down to the last sexy detail. Never did she think her attempt to spice up her love life with her boyfriend would involve her in a burglary with a sexier than sin thief whose emerald eyes and serious between the sheets skills are impossible to forget. As a police detective she is expected to stand on the side of the law and fight for justice. But what happens when the lines of justice blur and what’s wrong becomes way too tempting?

The situation might be challenging but Lexanne is determined to get assigned to the case, recover the jewels and catch the culprit.

The question is: What will she do with her sexy cat burglar when she catches him?


I wanted this. Carefully, I lined my lips. I picked up my lipstick tube, twisting up the scarlet color. My hand trembled. I dropped the lipstick, laid my palms flat on the vanity, and drew a breath. Sex with a cat burglar.

My fantasy would come true tonight. I drew on black stockings, the shimmery, soft nylon slip sliding over my fingers, over my smooth skin, gliding up past my knees to my thighs. With a soft click, I snapped them on my garter belt.

I stood in red stilettos and shimmied into my black leather miniskirt before checking out my reflection in the gilt-edged, full-length mirror. My dark hair was sleek and down for once, falling past my skimpy black bra, brushing my mid-back and sending little tingles over my skin.

Would he like it?

I shook my head. That didn’t matter. I’d played out Mark’s kinky fantasy; now it was my turn. We’d worked it out, scripted it. He would break in at 3:00 a.m. dressed completely in black, his face hidden. We’d only gone on a couple of dates, but of course I would know him—by his build, his blue eyes, his touch. And I would pretend I didn’t. I would put away everything I knew of Detective Mark Finney and imagine.

Imagine a stranger’s touch on my flesh, a stranger’s lips on mine, a stranger’s teeth scraping my jaw. I would imagine a cat burglar’s nimble fingers removing my clothes, baring me before him. It was not so far-fetched as fantasies went. A series of burglaries had plagued Los Angeles all summer. And while I personally might not own anything worth stealing, the house where I was staying had a safe full of priceless jewelry. For two weeks, I was house sitting the Brentmoor estate. I would never have a better opportunity.

I heard the soft slide of a window frame and glanced at the clock. He was early. I sucked in air even as I shivered in the slight breeze.

Time for action.

I scrambled onto the four-poster bed, the burgundy velvet spread draping over black satin sheets and a fluffy down comforter. I turned the covers down and positioned myself just so and waited, listening. Was that a step on the stairs or just my heart pounding?

This was my moment and, dammit, I couldn’t hear a thing. Not a breath, not a whisper. What was Mark doing?

Teasing me, that was it. Making me wait for what I wanted.

I couldn’t stand it. In a brush of leather against satin, I slid off the bed. Teetering in four-inch heels, I crept to the top of the stairs and held my breath.

Did I hear him?

I stepped down thickly carpeted stairs, careful to keep my balance in the unfamiliar dark. I tilted my head. Using intuition more than a sense of hearing, I walked toward the front hall. Was that him moving through the house as if on a sigh? God, he was good. I’d never have heard him if I hadn’t been listening, expecting him, anticipating.

I moved across the massive foyer, slid open the door to the parlor, and caught my breath. He stood before me, light from the moon illuminating his gloved hand.

He wore all black as promised—a bad boy, a criminal, and mine for the night.

Because tonight I wasn’t Lexanne Harris, police detective, law-abiding and responsible. Tonight I was wanton.

Our eyes met down the length of the room. My hungry eyes took in every inch of him. He was magnificent, prey and predator all in one. He was a panther. I was the hunter. And I’d caught him. I opened my mouth to speak my sassy, prearranged line when my burglar turned and ran.


I blinked and bit back a laugh. He rounded the corner into the dining room, and I scampered after him. “Wait,” I called, breathless from excitement. I staggered to a halt.

I’d cornered him.

He hesitated, facing me across the expansive cherrywood table. His eyes shone through the mask. He gave me a long, lingering once-over. The corner of his mouth turned up. Amusement?

Now we were talking. My burglar stood still and solid. I undid the metal clasp on my skirt. With a naughty little wriggle, I eased it down and off. I approached the table and put one knee on it. His eyes flicked to the table and back. I pulled myself up. Now crouched on hands and knees, I crawled toward him. Two feet from where he stood, I sat back on my heels.

His breath came faster, but he didn’t move.

Fine. It was my fantasy after all.

Author Bio:

Having lived in both California and Texas, Aimee O’Brian now resides in the beautiful wine country. With her three children grown and experiencing their own adventures, she and her husband are free to explore the world. When she’s not reading, writing, or planting even more perennials in her garden, she can be found stomping through ancient ruins and getting lost in museums.