Title: Bitten Shifter
Author: Brogan Thomas
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publication Date: Feb. 27, 2025
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Blurb:
Betrayed, shattered, and transformed. Sick of everyone’s crap, can this snarky lone wolf find belonging, respect, and love?
Lark Emerson vaguely remembers being happy. After catching her husband and her sister in the sack, the IT professional walks away from twenty-seven years of marriage and takes a job on the border of a shifter community. But after a rogue pack storms her office and attacks, to her horror she’s captured and savaged.
Wounded and ill, the forty-something limps home and is shocked when her injuries rapidly heal, her eyesight sharpens, and noise hurts her ears. And taken to a facility to ease the transition from human to supernatural, she’s completely thrown when her comfortable middle-aged body alters to something unfamiliar and exquisite.
Struggling with a temper as hot as her new figure, can Lark learn to trust when the handsome packmaster comes calling?
Bitten Shifter is the enthralling first standalone book in The Bitten Chronicles urban fantasy series. If you like hurt but resilient heroines, slow-burn romance, and action-packed suspense, you’ll adore Brogan Thomas’s rollercoaster ride.
Brogan lives in Ireland with her husband and their eleven furry children: five furry minions of darkness (aka the cats), four hellhounds (the dogs), and two traditional unicorns (fat, hairy Irish cobs).
In 2019 she decided to embrace her craziness by writing about the imaginary people that live in her head. Her first love is her husband, followed by her number-one favourite furry child Bob the cob, then reading. When not reading or writing, she can be found knee-deep in horse poo and fur while blissfully ignoring all adult responsibilities.
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I just have to hold on until help arrives.
Behind me, the door below creaks open with a low, ominous groan. I tiptoe upward, every nerve on high alert. The hair on the back of my neck rises—an instinct I can’t explain. My lizard brain screams danger even before the sound reaches me.
A low growl resonates through the stairwell.
Well, there’s no running from that.
What an incredible way to see my first shifter in animal form—while being hunted.
I’m so terrified I’m shocked I haven’t wet myself. I think it’s a wolf, though I’m no expert. The growl is low and guttural—more dog than cat.
Instead of bolting headlong into certain doom, I pause in the corner. Heart hammering, I drop to the floor, roll onto my belly, and wriggle into position. Flat on the ground, arms outstretched, the dart gun steady in my grip, I hover my finger over the trigger.
I’ve seen people do this on TV. It seems logical to keep the target small, stay on the ground, and keep out of reach.
I’m also higher than the shifter, which has to be a slight advantage. Right?
Ignoring the reality that I’m facing a killing machine with claws and teeth, I steady my breathing and focus.
The shifter below isn’t running. It’s hunting. Stealthy. Precise.
The soft click, click of nails on the concrete stairs reaches my ears—quiet but utterly terrifying.
I swallow hard, my mouth dry as bone.
Closing one eye, I sight down the barrel, using the little bump thingy—whatever it’s called—to aim down the stairs.
I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.
All those hours playing Duck Hunt as a kid had better pay off. Thirty-eight years later, Mum, let’s hope you were wrong and it wasn’t all a waste of time. I keep my breathing even, picturing a quacking duck on a bright blue screen—maybe there was a tree or some grass? I can’t remember.
Steady, Lark. Steady.
Another growl echoes, deeper this time. My breath catches as I spot sandy-brown fur shimmering under the emergency lights. Then I see his eyes—glowing amber, locked on me with predatory intent.
Ah, so they do glow when they hunt. Great. Unless he’s doing it on purpose to scare the crap out of me.
Steady. Wait until you have more of his body in sight.
The wolf prowls around the corner, his chest coming into view—broad, powerful, muscles rippling beneath thick fur.
I squeeze the trigger.
The dart flies true, hitting centre mass.
He lets out a low whine, his body swaying before slumping, unconscious.
I blink, stunned. Wow. I got another one. New talent unlocked. Let’s hope he’s merely unconscious and not dead, dead, because I have no idea what’s in these darts. Either way, it’s him or me.
I shake my head, push myself onto my knees, and start to—
A weight crashes into me from above.
My luck has officially run out.
The wolf has backup.
