Romance Novel Giveaways - Freebies and Giveaways of All Things Romance Romance Novel Giveaways: The Shifter's Heart Series by Philippa Lodge πŸ’• Book Tour & $50 Gift Card Giveaway πŸ’• (Shifter Romance)

Tuesday, September 21, 2021

The Shifter's Heart Series by Philippa Lodge πŸ’• Book Tour & $50 Gift Card Giveaway πŸ’• (Shifter Romance)





The nerd girl and the hot jock.

We met in college and he, a mountain lion shifter, was my link to the secret world of shapeshifters. I crushed on him hard. A few times, it looked like he might ask me out, but it never happened. When danger came, though, I flew to his rescue. Literally flew. Not only am I a fox shifter, I have a mockingbird form, too.

After a one night hook-up, he left and broke my heart. A few years later, he showed up at my door, looking for forever. I decided to trust him. Well, mostly trust him. Our marriage was strained and we were getting more distant when he disappeared. To get him back, I’ll risk everything, including the continued secrecy of every shapeshifter everywhere.

  


A knight meets a witch

Michael Grey, IT guy and wolf shifter, is working for his uncle, sword fighting at Renaissance Faires. On a blazing hot fall day in Central California, he spots a woman he didn’t expect to see again.

Eloisa Woods, vet resident and magical healer, is visiting her fortuneteller cousin at a Ren Faire and comes face to face with the man from a college French class whom she always wondered about.

Coincidence and premonition put them in the right place to save a prominent fox shifter’s life, throwing them into the path of an anti-shifter hate group.

Worse: someone inside the FBI is helping the group.

There’s far more at stake than winning sword fights.

  

A big, bad wolf meets an innocent grad student

Beth Ogden has lists and notebooks and transcriptions and scans and years of work toward her PhD in History. She’s preparing to go to a shifter commune to do more research when she’s asked to take an undercover FBI agent along as her assistant. An attractive, intriguing FBI agent.

There are warning signs that the peaceful, spiritual commune is turning into something more sinister.

Agent Alex Three Feathers, half wolf shifter, half bobcat shifter, all jaded, slips into his role as research assistant, but wishes his undercover days were over. He’s being considered for a role in the FBI’s Shifter Task Force, but there are a few problems:
1) His half-brother and liaison for this assignment is already on the task force,
2) They hate each other,
3) He has to survive this commune that’s a hair trigger away from exploding in his face,
4) He’s falling for Beth, who’s likely to get herself killed through her naΓ―vetΓ©.

  

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from Memoirs of a Fox

He collapsed on top of me, panting into my ear. I petted his sweaty back and held his head tightly against my shoulder as my legs relaxed onto the bed.

This. I had never had anything like this, ever. And it was Tommy, the person I had always wanted this with. He was mine.

Our breathing had returned almost to normal when he rolled off me. I lay there looking at him: his perfect chest, bulkier than it had been when I first saw it in the woods, before he started playing rugby, his square jaw, muscular arms, legs that made me swoon, penis that, well, you know. I looked up to his wide-set eyes and he was staring at me, waiting for me to look. His eyes were distinctly yellow with the lion looking out, his dark blond hair tousled.

I smiled.

He stared.

I reached one hand up to his face and put it on his cheek, stroking the high cheekbone and rasping my fingers across his beard stubble.

He closed his eyes and looked pained.

I didn't have much experience, but I was pretty sure it wasn't a good sign.

He flopped on his back and put his arm across his eyes. He’d made a mistake and he couldn't bear to look at me.

I was closest to the edge of the bed, so I got up. I grabbed my robe, the soft, white terrycloth one my mom had given me for Christmas the year before that made me look like a whale. When I turned around, he was sitting up with the sheet pulled over his lap. He turned so his back was against the wall and cleared his throat. I waited, but he didn't say anything.

I sat and swiveled the recliner to face him, but kept my attention on tucking the robe around my legs. When I did look up at his face, in little glances, he was always looking away. I stared and he finally met my eyes.

“Cassie. You know this can't...” He looked away.

I knew where he was headed, but damned if I was going to say any of it first. My heart hurt too much. I had been mostly in love with him for three years. What did you expect?

Of course I was in love.

He yanked the sheet up higher, lifted his knees up under it, put his elbows on them, and his head in his hands.

“Will you lie back down?” I asked, so softly. “Will you sleep here, just for tonight?”

He looked up at me, surprised. There was a long, long silence.

“All right,” he said. “I have to go clean up and, you know.”

I didn't, but I figured it was 'use the shit can' as he had so memorably said in our first encounter, or 'take a piss' or even 'throw this condom away.'

He pulled his clothes on, and slipped out the door. I couldn't decide if I should put on pajamas. I always wore pajamas, because there was less chance my subconscious would allow me to shift in my sleep if I had them on. I went down the hall in my robe and brushed my teeth, half expecting to find him in the women’s bathroom. He wasn't.

Maybe he'd changed his mind and gone to his own bed. Maybe he'd gone off to find another girl he would have regretted never sleeping with. I was aware the thought was paranoid, but didn't it hurt like hell?

When I went back to my room, he was sitting in the recliner. I let out a huge sigh of relief.

“I shouldn't stay,” he said.

“Please?”

I held my breath.

His face unreadable, he sighed. He nodded once. “OK.”

I dropped my robe on my chair and climbed into bed. He turned off the light, yanked off his clothes again, and climbed in next to me. We lay on our backs, barely touching. Even if it had been a bigger bed, we would have been falling off the edges to get away from each other.

“This isn't going to work,” I admitted.

I wished I hadn't said anything. I expected he would make his excuses and leave.

He rolled up onto his side, making the bed shake, then he rolled me away from him, clonking my head on the wall. I sighed when he pulled me until my back was against his chest and his knees against the backs of my thighs. It took me about a minute to fall asleep, maybe less.

Sleeping curled up with someone was something I had wished for since I was little, when I would crawl into my parents' bed if I woke up in the night. The warmth and touch had always made me feel safe and loved, though the fantasy changed when I went through puberty. My parents would move me to my own bed after I went back to sleep most of the time. When they didn't, either because they hadn't noticed me or because they went back to sleep too, waking up with them was sheer joy for me.



Philippa Lodge is an office worker by day, reader by night, and author on the weekends. She lives in California (though not one of the cool parts) with her husband, whatever kids (maximum of three) as haven't yet gone to college and/or moved out and/or are home for a pandemic, and two cats who probably don't turn into humans, but who argue like hangry toddlers.


    

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