Her True Savior (Furever Shifter Mates #1; Shifting Hearts Dating Agency Book 4) Read online

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  "There is a fine mixture of passion of the paranormal type as well as the romantic type that should satisfy a broad range of readers. Kiki Howell has found her niche."

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  "Kiki Howell spins a wonderful tale of passion, magic, betrayal, and a love that conquers all."

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  Her True Savior

  Furever Shifter Mates, Book One

  Shifting Hearts Dating Agency World

  ISBN: 978-1-77357-075-4,

  978-1-77357-070-9

  First Edition

  Copyright ©2018 Kiki Howell

  Published by Naughty Nights Press LLC

  http://naughtynightspress.com/

  Cover Design by Willsin Rowe

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

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  Table of Contents

  About

  Note to Readers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  A Taste of Book Two, One True Mate

  Chapter One

  About The Author

  Where to Find More of Kiki Howell

  Also by Kiki Howell

  About

  Will Sylvia 's twist to matchmaking have the expected results?

  Samantha Morgan isn't interested in finding a man for more than a good workout between the sheets.

  Sylvia Ludus, co-owner of the Shifting Hearts Dating Agency, has other plans. While stories about Sylvia's matches are larger than life, Sam thinks she's immune to the woman's gifts in matchmaking, so she agrees to a set up only to appease her mother.

  Sylvia tries something different, setting Sam up with Ian Michaelson, a wealthy black panther shifter, in order to have her meet a friend of Ian's who is as stubborn as she is when it comes to dating. Sylvia claims this other man will be her savior, in a metaphorical sense, the one to capture her heart, make her stop fearing love.

  Will Sam give into whatever has sparked between her and this mystery man, or is she destined to be Sylvia's first failure?

  Note to Readers

  Dear Reader,

  I'm so happy you have the chance to read Her True Savior! While originally created for the Paranormal Dating Agency KW (only available in the United States), this version of Jacob and Sam's story is modified from the original and is now perfect for Erzabet Bishop's Shifting Hearts Dating Agency shared world.

  I just wanted to let you know, there are so many other amazing books in the SHDA world already and many more on the way. I hope you will take pleasure in every single one of them as we delve deeper into this fictional world with Sylvia Ludus and Paige Matheson, co-owners of the Shifting Hearts Dating Agency, and their uncanny, Goddess given intuition to find the perfect fated mate (or mates!) for our beloved characters.

  Check them all out here: https://shifterlove.blogspot.com/p/shda_10.html

  Thanks so much!

  Her True Savior

  Furever Shifter

  Mates Series

  Book One

  Shifting Hearts

  Dating Agency

  Kiki Howell

  Chapter One

  The sound of her mother sifting flour elicited a shallow sigh. Her eyes glazed over, blurring the familiar image of the large mug that served as a flowerpot in the middle of the table where she sat. Her mother's wavering voice, loaded with agitation, cut through her tranquility, tightening her features, interrupting her body's desire for a cat-like stretch. Hell, even the cat that had been resting nearby took off for another room with a few sporadic leaps.

  "Samantha, you are so unpredictable and headstrong," the woman snipped, gripping the handle of the sifter harder, moving it faster despite the screeches of the metal sliding against metal. "A dangerous combination if you ask me."

  "I didn't ask," Sam replied, a coy smile growing on her face as she waited for her mother to look up from her measuring to glare. "But, I love you mom and value your opinion," she continued, tongue in cheek, eyes wide, her new, endless smile making her mother crack one, too, despite her best efforts to stay frustrated with her daughter.

  "Okay, add smart-mouthed and conniving to that list, but I think a man could change all that for you," her mother stated, undeterred, that frantic tone seeping back into her voice making Sam's shoulders rise to her ears. A minute of comic relief over, just like that.

  She sucked in a deep, cleansing breath, counting to four as the air swept into her lungs, then paused, trapping the breat
h, before releasing the pent up air to a count of six. Well, truth be told, she saw those weird lights in front of her eyes about the count of five during the exhale, but she'd counted to six anyway. A breathing technique she taught her yoga students, she failed to practice on her own when her mother began a tirade about the fact that her only daughter, and only child to compound the issue, had yet to marry.

  "You need someone to share your magic with," her mother continued, not noticing her daughter had yet to respond to the last statement she'd uttered.

  "Mom, I don't need anyone to share my magic with. I have you."

  What I need to share is a good fuck with a man, not my magic, Sam thought, peering into her water bottle as if it, at any minute, would reveal the mysteries of the world to her. A longing crept into her mind, a sudden ravenous wish for water to turn into wine, or better yet, something harder. While she practiced yoga, sometimes only a Long Island Iced Tea could do the trick.

  A witch by birth, Sam thought she had quite the full life with her magic and now yoga, plus her mother and friends. A yoga instructor who owned her own studio, she proved yoga was for everybody as her curves filled out her yoga pants and t-shirt. Her magic, kept private in the family, she practiced daily which granted her a peace like nothing else could, only adding to her yoga practice. She had friends to talk to, cousins and a mother to practice her spells with, and a yoga community who balanced out her life perfectly. Her studio had become just another place of solace for her. Men, on the other hand, they were trouble, needed only to scratch physical urges from time to time when the silicone versions of their anatomy wouldn't do.

  Always the go getter, which some called aggressive and her mother called unpredictable, Sam allowed her magic in the studio, secretly, for herself and others who chose to accept it, as a way to harmony, happiness, and health. Her magic helped to enhance the peacefulness of the place. She'd thrown all she had, money, time, and sweat, into the studio. A strong, single woman and entrepreneur, she didn't desire tying her life to another's. However, her mother's ire wasn't worth the fight. Sam considered it the act of a loving daughter to appease the woman as much as she could from time to time on the whole dating and marriage issue, by at least going on an occasional date. Though, truth be told, and she would not tell such a fundamental axiom to her mother, a family and kids didn't enter into her life plans. Her dating life amounted to dinner and maybe a movie, sometimes a good romp between the sheets.

  So, from time to time when her mother got like this, she listened, tried to keep her center of calm, and eventually relented into a date or two with whoever her mother wanted to set her up with. She could agree to a friend of a friend's son, or whomever, for a time. The possible partner her mother found always initiated these lectures, which continued at length until she relented and agreed to a date with the man her mother had currently fallen in love with as 'the perfect match for her unattached daughter.'

  So, today, as always, she waited the woman out, let her rant and complain. She'd tire eventually and go for broke, tell Sam she'd found the man of her dreams for her. In keeping with established protocol, she'd have to get dressed up, sit through the small talk, and then, finally, duty done, end the evening of torture and get on with her life. If the planets aligned in her favor, she'd at a minimum get a good meal out of it, at a maximum, find the guy attractive enough to work a little sexual frustration out of her system.

  As her mother continued, not yet to the 'who I'm hooking you up with' part, Sam mentally wandered through the items in her closet, wondering what she had there to wear for any situation. Not big into clothing like fancy dresses, you could find her in stretchy pants, along with a t-shirt or sweatshirt depending on the season. To her, dressing up mean wearing one of her two pairs of jeans and a sweater, maybe a little make-up.

  She'd rather go hiking than to a fancy restaurant, but the guys her mother chose always tried to impress her mother with some elaborate meal that required a flowing hemline and godforsaken hooker heels. Sam kept two dresses on reserve for such occasions, both of which matched the same pair of misery foot apparel. So, date three had to remain out of the question. Sometimes she did talk them into a more casual second date, but again, a third date still could not happen. At that point emotions could spark, bonds begin to sprout, and none of that mess suited her. She'd married her studio, and that was enough for her magic, her health, and her well-being—body, mind, and soul.

  When the doorbell rang, she thanked her lucky stars for the person who dared intrude on her mother's time to talk her into a husband.

  "Hold on," her mother said, setting down the spoon she'd been using to stir up a cake, the poor utensil moving faster and faster, in accordance with her mother's voice rising. "I invited a friend over to meet you."

  "What? Mom!" Sam complained, her back suddenly ramrod straight from where she'd been slouching on her chair. "I came straight from teaching two classes. Hard classes. I'm a half still sweaty, half sweat-dried mess. You really want me to meet someone like this?"

  Then, purposely more exaggerated this time, she slouched again, thinking her current state may just get her out of this impending date altogether.

  "Bring him in," she grumbled to herself as her mother walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a decorative dish towel, the spitting image of a fifties housewife with her monogrammed apron yet minus the pumps.

  "Samantha," her mother said sharply to gain her daughter' attention as she walked back into the room where Sam remained with her head down, resting on her arms. Sam rolled her forehead enough to look toward the door, as her mother stepped aside to let in a woman. "I would like you to meet an old friend of mine, Sylvia Ludus."

  Stunned, Sam muttered something of a hello as she glanced over the small woman decked out in a power suit and heels with her long, curly honey blonde locks.

  "Sylvia doesn't go out of her office often, but for her old friend, she's made an exception," her mother continued, moving past them back to her cake mix.

  "Well, when I heard the desperation in your mother's voice when she called the other day, I offered to take a little road trip this way and get to work," the strange woman ground out.

  Though her petite size may have fooled Sam at first, the woman exuded confidence and expectation in both her voice and her stance. In one single sentence Sylvia pretty much summed up that she meant business, putting Sam a little on edge.

  "Work?" Sam managed to squeak out only to continue on without waiting for an answer. "Desperation? Is everything okay, mom?"

  "No, dear, it is not. Haven't you been listening to me?" Her mother talked to the pan she currently buttered, fingers swiping furiously over the now shiny surface of the round pan as if the more frantic the arm movements, the better this conversation would go. "My daughter is getting to be of a certain age and is not yet married. So, yes, I'm desperate. Therefore, I called in a professional. Sylvia."

  "Professional?" Sam blinked and cocked her head, wondering when she'd been relegated to the role of parrot.

  "Yes, a professional," Sylvia confirmed, her voice bordering on enthusiastic. "I own Shifting Hearts Dating Agency. Now, while I mainly deal in shifters, I wanted to help your dear mother. She once used her great powers to help with a pesky problem, so I'm returning the favor in doing this job."

  "You are going to set me up? With a shifter?" Sam asked before she turned to her mother. "And, you are okay with this?"

  "Desperate times," her mother scolded. "A witch and a shifter can make a fine match. I've read all about it online."

  Sam gaped at her mother. "I'm regretting getting you that eReader and showing you how to get on the Internet with it. That was to research recipes, not dating options. You can't be serious."

  "I've used it advantageously now for both. I can show you the stories, success stories about witches and shifters, what they can offer each other."

  "No need. I believe you. I guess it has been known to happen," Sam stuttered over the words, still in shock at
this whole turn of events, and not liking being outnumbered. It unnerved her more the vibe she got from this Sylvia. In another time and place, she felt she'd really like the woman.

  "Sylvia is an expert. She has quite the remarkable record for matches. It's like a sixth sense to this woman, finding those lost and lonely souls who belong together."

  "Maybe it is. Anyway, look, baby," Sylvia stated, a big smile on her lips as she patted Sam's hand. She'd already made herself at home on the stool beside her. "I have a savior for you. He's a very special man, in a lot of ways, if you know what I mean." She stopped to wink, but then grimaced a bit.

  Sam figured the scowl on her own face and the tightness of her lips gave the woman pause for just a moment. "A special savior? I don't exactly need saving, and I am not really lost or lonely either, but what does that mean exactly?"

  "A big dick and a tons of muscles," Sylvia responded with a hearty laugh, which only increased when Sam's eyebrows rose though her scowl remained.

  "Well now, not that that doesn't sound grand, but I'm not interested in that type in the least. I'm sure my mother has told you that, since you and her have obviously discussed fixing me up. I'm sick of the type. I work with those meatheads sometimes because some doctor sent them in for yoga to save their tendons or back or what have you from the ravages of the gym. And let me tell you, the big dick, the washboard abs, they are just not worth the mindless chatter you have to deal with in between the sex. I can't eat another meal with a guy who can only talk about how much weight he can lift in comparison to what the other guys in the gym can't. Please, give me a man with some substance, maybe one who has, I don't know, read a book or something."