Anya Swift is a recovery agent for International Art and Antiquities Recovery -- she returns art to its rightful owners; sometimes decades after it went missing. Her job allows her to indulge her adventurous adrenaline junky while still saying on the "right" side of the law. Anya's work with the IAAR is a secret however; and most people just know her as a thief.
Maxwell Sauvage was born into a life of privilege and is extremely bored. He works as a security consultant to the rich and powerful, pitting himself against their security systems to see if he can break them.
Max and Anya have crossed paths several times in the past and every time they do, the sparks fly. For the past couple of months, Max has been setting traps in the security systems he works on, hoping he can catch Anya. Their paths cross on a job Anya is doing on New Year's Eve; but Max's trap has unexpected consequences. Max moves heaven & earth as he attempts to keep Anya safe and show her that he's playing for keeps.
THE LOVE THIEVES is a fun, fast-paced romp through the art scene of Europe with great character development and sizzling hot sex scenes! Heather Long never fails to deliver and THE LOVE THIEVES is no exception. Do not miss this book!! The follow up, The Taming of the Thief is also out now.
Set in Morocco, London and Switzerland, The Love Thieves
takes Anya and
Max on a powerful journey full of passion and chemistry
that sparks on
the page from their first dance to their last.
Maxwell Sauvage was born into a life of privilegeβ¦and
boredom. As a
βsecurity consultantβ to the powerful, he enjoys pitting
his wits
against the most intricate of security systems for business
and
pleasure.
Anya Swift is a woman with high-class tastes and a high-
octane need for
adventure. As an operative for International Art and
Antiquities
Recovery she stays just on the βrightβ side of the law,
while
satisfying her desire for the finer things and her thirst
for
adventure.
When a high tech camera catches Anya taking The Fortunate
Buddha from
the French Ambassadorβs vault, Max is eager to help the
provocative
thief for his own reasons, not the least of which being
that he set the
camera. But after one stunning night of passion, Anya
disappears. Now
Max must find Anya before the Ambassadorβs men and claim
the thief for
his own, but they are running against a clock, danger and
deception.
The rope would hold. Her timing ran perfectly even under
the
clock for the bag, tag and replace. High above, the
Ambassadorβs guests celebrated the New Yearβs Eve ball. The
music of the orchestra penetrated the reinforced shaft
walls. Hovering five feet above the pressure sensitive
floor
of the Ambassadorβs private vault, Anya Swift β recovery
agent extraordinaire β flipped on the rope, tightening her
abdominals, so she hung upwards rather than upside down.
The change in position made the ascent easier and reduced
the chance of nausea. Shimmying up the rope, excitement
skittered through her belly. The sweet scent of the vanilla
lotion sheβd applied earlier mingled with the saltier tang
of sweat.
Hush.
Never get too excited before a job finished. Her
butterflies
would have to stay in their cocoons until the Fortunate
Buddha could be returned where he belonged. Five minutes
before her absence at the party could become an issue.
Clearing security, as a disheveled guest may be overlooked,
clearing security after a prolonged absence with a valuable
stolen object in her possession invited trouble. One did
not
tempt the hands of Fate, for Fate possessed a mean right
hook.
The weight of the idol pressed against her spine. Crafted
of
gold, the religious icon wore a ruby solitaire in its belly
button. The value of theFortunate Buddha lay not in
precious
stones or metals, but the legend of good luck it brought to
temple visitors who prayed while rubbing its ruby-studded
belly. True or not, Anyaβs job meant retrieving the Buddha
from the hands of the thieves whoβd removed it from the
Taiwanese temple.
I am so taking next week to spend time working on my tan.
The inane thought might seem out of place under more
ordinary of circumstances, but the inane kept her sane. The
strong, tensile cord coiled into a compartment in her belt
as she ascended. If not for the sound sensors, sheβd
whistle.
I can work on my tan, eat at the cafes on St. Ville Riches
and maybe even read Momβs last manuscript. I told her I
would read it last week but it was Moscow and then Tel Aviv
and then back to Morocco and, silly me, I left it at homeβI
am soβ¦
The fuel spurring her inane thoughts sputtered out on an
empty tank of shock. Halfway up the shaft, strung between
the hatch and a hard place, she stared right into the lens
of a slender, flat cam pressed into the wall. Casual
surveillance would call it a rivet in the structure, but up
close, the lens glowed with a faint red light.
An undocumented camera.
In the vault.
Staring right at her.
Anya considered her options. Slide back down the rope and
put the Buddhaback or continue up and leave the party as
swiftly as possible. Her watch vibrated a warning. The loop
on the security cameras lasted forty-five seconds. Not
enough time to descend, replace and ascend again.
The red light stared at her unblinkingly,
I am so screwed.
She could spare just five seconds for the mental debate.
The
memory of Maxβs familiar face drifted across her mindβs
eye.
Sheβd seen him at the party earlier, but she came to
Morocco
for a job, not a flirt. Now she would have to combine both.
Anya continued her ascent, barely clearing the access hatch
and closing it with the borrowed code before her watch
signaled the loop ended. Every camera below recorded live
once more.
Ready or not, Max. Here I come.
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