Description:
17-year-old Becca spent her whole life protecting her brother from, well, everything. The abandonment of their father, the so called 'experts' who insist that voices in his head are unnatural and must be dealt with, and the constant threat of being taken away to some hospital and studied like an animal. When two representatives appear claiming to have the answers to Ryland's perceived problem, Becca doesn't buy it for one second. That is until they seem to know things about Ryland and about Becca and Ryland's family, that forces Becca to concede that there may be more to these people than meets the eye. Though still highly skeptical, Becca agrees to do what's best for Ryland.
What they find at St. Brigid's is a world beyond their imagination. Little by little they piece together the information of their family's heritage, their estranged Father, and the legend of the Holder race that decrees Ryland is the one they've been waiting for. However, they are all--especially Becca--in for a surprise that will change what they thought they knew about themselves and their kind.
She meets Alex, a Holder who is fiercely loyal to their race, and for some reason, Becca and Ryland. There's an attraction between Becca and Alex that can't be denied, but her true nature seems destined to keep them apart. However, certain destinies may not be as clear cut as everyone has always believed them to be.
Becca is lost, but found at the same time. Can she bring herself to leave Ryland now that he's settled and can clearly see his future? Will she be able to put the the feelings she has for Alex aside and head back to the US? And can Becca and Ryland ever forgive their father for what he's done?
Praise for Series:
“The twisty plot and swoony romance of The Seers kept me turning the pages as I fell in love with Becca and Alex all over again.” - Trisha Wolfe, author of Fireblood
“It had a gripping plot, plenty of exciting twists and turns and some pretty fantastic characters which all combined to keep me glued to the pages.” - A Dream of Books
“If this is any notion of what Julianna Scott can do, I cannot wait to see what is next. The Holders was refreshing and just one heck of a good read.” - The Book Cellar
“I am so thankful this is only the beginning of a series because I couldn't imagine not being able to read a continuation of Becca's story. The Holders is a novel too entertaining and emotionally charged to pass up!” -
Lovey Dovey Books
“There are a lot of other things to love about The Holders – a detailed history and Celtic element come to mind – but it was really the characters that sold this novel for me.” - More Than Just Magic
EXCERPT:
“The second set is beginning,” Bastian continued, coolly offering me his hand. “May I have the pleasure?”
I paused only slightly and took a moment to listen carefully to the song wafting through the air, praying it was a meter I recognized and would be able to dance to. Silently I began to count. There were three beats per bar which meant three/four time. It was a waltz. A quick glance at the couples who were already dancing confirmed my assessment and the slight tension in my shoulders broke. I had this.
Jocelyn, however, was clearly not as confident in my dancing abilities as I was. “I’m sure Becca would be delighted,” he said suddenly, obviously feeling this situation demanded he step in, “but I’m not sure she realizes–”
“I would love to,” I interrupted, taking Bastian’s hand with a smile.
As he led me away from the group and onto the dance floor, I knew Jocelyn wasn’t happy with me, but I wasn’t worried. If he was afraid that I was about to embarrass myself by stumbling all over the dance floor, then he was going to be pleasantly surprised. If his fear was that I would probe Bastian about spying on me back in Pennsylvania, well… he was right. But just because I planned to dig, didn’t mean I couldn’t handle the situation tactfully.
Though, given my history, I couldn’t pretend that his fears were entirely unfounded…
Trying to ignore the fact that every single eye in the room was fixed on us as we crossed the it and took to the floor, I kept my head high, my smile easy, and my mind on the mission. I wasn’t going to let their whispers and pointed stares get to me this time, not now that I fully understood the sort of shady frauds I was dealing with. These people were as underhanded as they came and had been playing us for fools. And by the end of this dance I planned to be able to prove it.
When we reached an open space in the center of the dance floor, we stopped and turned to face one another. My heart began to kick my ribs a bit as we assumed the dance position and I saw all the other couples twirling around us like extras from a Rodgers and Hammerstein show. Reminding myself that it was just a waltz and that I was more than capable, I held my breath and waited for his lead, trying my best to look as calm and collected as he did. He glanced down at me to confirm I was ready, and a moment later we were gliding around the room like pros.
Or he was anyway.
I was doing my best to keep up, while also making sure not to let anyone realize I was having trouble. I had been prepared to waltz, and we were waltzing all right, but it wasn’t the traditional box step that I was used to. Apparently Bastian preferred open footwork, which involved larger steps and a lot more spinning, consequently making it much grander than its box cousin – and more difficult. Maybe this was how he always waltzed, or maybe he assumed that I wouldn’t be able to handle the more difficult style and would have to bow out, but either way I was determined to hold my own. The dance may have looked and felt different, but it was still a waltz, and that meant that the footwork was generally the same. My other saving grace was the fact that, while still a lying cad, Bastian was a very strong lead and wittingly or no he was making me look far better than I was. Uncle Joe would have been proud.
As we twirled around the perimeter of the dance floor I waited for him to say something. After all, he had to know that I’d recognized him, so it was only a matter of time before he came at me with something: an excuse, a test question, or maybe even a threat. But the longer I waited the more clear it became that he didn’t plan on saying anything… at all. It looked like he didn’t have anything to say. But that was fine… because I had plenty.
“Nothing to say this evening?” I asked, keeping my sarcasm – just barely – in check.
“Forgive me,” he replied after a moment, though there was a new aloof, almost bored air to his tone, “I am not myself tonight. You look lovely this evening, and are quite a… proficient dancer… for an American.”
“The dance?” I asked, gritting my teeth as I let his blatant insult go. “Is that really what you want to discuss?”
“We are dancing,” he said with a haughty inflection that made me want to stomp on his foot, “so it seemed an appropriate subject. Would you prefer the weather, or perhaps a commentary on the entertainment this evening?”
God, what an ass!
I hadn’t known him all that well in school, so I wasn’t sure if he was acting this way to try and repel me and my questions, or if “self-righteous dick” was just his natural state, but I was not about to be deterred. “I was thinking something more like Mr Sacklehide’s honors English class, or maybe Mrs Tatala’s Algebra 3,” I said innocently, listing a few of the classes we’d shared.
Certain I had him in a corner, I looked up at his face as I waited for him to respond, looking for the spark of panic in his eyes. Unfortunately, he must have been prepared for my veiled accusations, because all I got from his expression was confusion and a mild hint of annoyance. “Am I supposed to know what you are referring to?” he asked after he realized I was not going to expand.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you do.”
“Then it would appear you are mistaken,” he replied casually, actually having the gall to roll his eyes.
So this is how it was going to go? Denials and lies? Playing dumb? Treating me like a pest wasting his precious time? Not a chance. If this asshole actually thought he was going to get away with this, he had no idea who he was dealing with – but he was about to find out.
Game on.
I didn’t mean to gawk, or blush, or get a goofy grin on my face, but as he stood there just inside the archway of the alcove I’m pretty sure I did all three. Though in my defence, I couldn’t help it – he looked amazing. I’d never thought of Alex as “hot,” or “gorgeous,” or any of the other terms that a lot of girls my age used to describe a good looking guy. That isn’t to say that Alex wasn’t any of those things, or that I didn’t find him attractive, as I did. Very much so, in fact. His dark blonde hair was always styled, he dressed very well, and his eyes – which had always been my favourite feature – were the most amazingly clear shade of storm cloud blue you could imagine. The thing was that the specifics of his appearance weren’t usually what came to mind when I thought about him. He was Alex. It had never mattered what he looked like.
And while it still didn’t matter, I was not about to pretend like I didn’t notice. He was wearing a black tux like Jocelyn, but instead of the white shirt and black tie, Alex’s tie and shirt were black, and he also had a charcoal gray vest on under his jacket. His cuffs were French, his shoes shone as though they were new, and across his chest lay the same green sash Jocelyn was wearing.
Not going to lie, there was definitely a flush rising up my neck….
Though red as I was, oddly enough, Alex’s didn’t blush at all. I’d have thought with me ogling him the way I was, that his ears would be ablaze, but then again, he seemed far too preoccupied to notice the way I was looking at him. Preoccupied… looking at me. His eyes clung to me like condensation on a glass, with an expression that seemed to hover between anger and fear – though deep down I knew it was neither. Still, I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious.
Why didn’t he say anything? Was he upset? Did he not like the dress? Was something wrong?
I took a breath to speak, but before I could find my voice he was coming straight toward me. He didn’t look around, didn’t check the hall, or so much as shift his eyes away from mine as he crossed the small alcove in three strides, took my face in his hands, and kissed me.
And dear God… what a kiss…
His mouth moved against mine with more passion than I’d ever felt from him before. His right hand slid up into my hair and gently but firmly held my mouth to his, while his left dropped to my waist and pulled me tightly against him. His fervour poured over me like boiling water over ice, melting me down to my core. I had no idea what had come over him, but whatever it was, it was hot, it was intense, and if he wasn’t careful, it was going to bring me to my knees.
But what hit me the hardest wasn’t his sudden hunger or intensity, but the hint of something deeper, driving like an undercurrent beneath his passion. It was something I’d never seen from him before, but unmistakable all the same.
Possession.
Alex had never been a dominant or outspoken person in general, but conscious or not, something in him was definitely sending a message: “She is mine.” It may have only been implied, but it was definitely there, and the very idea sent a tingling shiver across my skin as I gripped the lapels of his jacket with a throaty sigh. The message was raw, it was primal, and above all else, it was true: I was his. And he was mine. The fact that we had to hide it around these people didn’t make it any less valid. We belonged to one another.
Forever.
A few short seconds later he pulled back with a husky breath, resting his forehead against mine for a moment before releasing me and stepping back slowly, his eyes glowing. He hadn’t said a word – he hadn’t needed to. I smiled, hoping he saw the “I love you” in my eyes. His answering smile told me he did.
I paused only slightly and took a moment to listen carefully to the song wafting through the air, praying it was a meter I recognized and would be able to dance to. Silently I began to count. There were three beats per bar which meant three/four time. It was a waltz. A quick glance at the couples who were already dancing confirmed my assessment and the slight tension in my shoulders broke. I had this.
Jocelyn, however, was clearly not as confident in my dancing abilities as I was. “I’m sure Becca would be delighted,” he said suddenly, obviously feeling this situation demanded he step in, “but I’m not sure she realizes–”
“I would love to,” I interrupted, taking Bastian’s hand with a smile.
As he led me away from the group and onto the dance floor, I knew Jocelyn wasn’t happy with me, but I wasn’t worried. If he was afraid that I was about to embarrass myself by stumbling all over the dance floor, then he was going to be pleasantly surprised. If his fear was that I would probe Bastian about spying on me back in Pennsylvania, well… he was right. But just because I planned to dig, didn’t mean I couldn’t handle the situation tactfully.
Though, given my history, I couldn’t pretend that his fears were entirely unfounded…
Trying to ignore the fact that every single eye in the room was fixed on us as we crossed the it and took to the floor, I kept my head high, my smile easy, and my mind on the mission. I wasn’t going to let their whispers and pointed stares get to me this time, not now that I fully understood the sort of shady frauds I was dealing with. These people were as underhanded as they came and had been playing us for fools. And by the end of this dance I planned to be able to prove it.
When we reached an open space in the center of the dance floor, we stopped and turned to face one another. My heart began to kick my ribs a bit as we assumed the dance position and I saw all the other couples twirling around us like extras from a Rodgers and Hammerstein show. Reminding myself that it was just a waltz and that I was more than capable, I held my breath and waited for his lead, trying my best to look as calm and collected as he did. He glanced down at me to confirm I was ready, and a moment later we were gliding around the room like pros.
Or he was anyway.
I was doing my best to keep up, while also making sure not to let anyone realize I was having trouble. I had been prepared to waltz, and we were waltzing all right, but it wasn’t the traditional box step that I was used to. Apparently Bastian preferred open footwork, which involved larger steps and a lot more spinning, consequently making it much grander than its box cousin – and more difficult. Maybe this was how he always waltzed, or maybe he assumed that I wouldn’t be able to handle the more difficult style and would have to bow out, but either way I was determined to hold my own. The dance may have looked and felt different, but it was still a waltz, and that meant that the footwork was generally the same. My other saving grace was the fact that, while still a lying cad, Bastian was a very strong lead and wittingly or no he was making me look far better than I was. Uncle Joe would have been proud.
As we twirled around the perimeter of the dance floor I waited for him to say something. After all, he had to know that I’d recognized him, so it was only a matter of time before he came at me with something: an excuse, a test question, or maybe even a threat. But the longer I waited the more clear it became that he didn’t plan on saying anything… at all. It looked like he didn’t have anything to say. But that was fine… because I had plenty.
“Nothing to say this evening?” I asked, keeping my sarcasm – just barely – in check.
“Forgive me,” he replied after a moment, though there was a new aloof, almost bored air to his tone, “I am not myself tonight. You look lovely this evening, and are quite a… proficient dancer… for an American.”
“The dance?” I asked, gritting my teeth as I let his blatant insult go. “Is that really what you want to discuss?”
“We are dancing,” he said with a haughty inflection that made me want to stomp on his foot, “so it seemed an appropriate subject. Would you prefer the weather, or perhaps a commentary on the entertainment this evening?”
God, what an ass!
I hadn’t known him all that well in school, so I wasn’t sure if he was acting this way to try and repel me and my questions, or if “self-righteous dick” was just his natural state, but I was not about to be deterred. “I was thinking something more like Mr Sacklehide’s honors English class, or maybe Mrs Tatala’s Algebra 3,” I said innocently, listing a few of the classes we’d shared.
Certain I had him in a corner, I looked up at his face as I waited for him to respond, looking for the spark of panic in his eyes. Unfortunately, he must have been prepared for my veiled accusations, because all I got from his expression was confusion and a mild hint of annoyance. “Am I supposed to know what you are referring to?” he asked after he realized I was not going to expand.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you do.”
“Then it would appear you are mistaken,” he replied casually, actually having the gall to roll his eyes.
So this is how it was going to go? Denials and lies? Playing dumb? Treating me like a pest wasting his precious time? Not a chance. If this asshole actually thought he was going to get away with this, he had no idea who he was dealing with – but he was about to find out.
Game on.
****************************
I didn’t mean to gawk, or blush, or get a goofy grin on my face, but as he stood there just inside the archway of the alcove I’m pretty sure I did all three. Though in my defence, I couldn’t help it – he looked amazing. I’d never thought of Alex as “hot,” or “gorgeous,” or any of the other terms that a lot of girls my age used to describe a good looking guy. That isn’t to say that Alex wasn’t any of those things, or that I didn’t find him attractive, as I did. Very much so, in fact. His dark blonde hair was always styled, he dressed very well, and his eyes – which had always been my favourite feature – were the most amazingly clear shade of storm cloud blue you could imagine. The thing was that the specifics of his appearance weren’t usually what came to mind when I thought about him. He was Alex. It had never mattered what he looked like.
And while it still didn’t matter, I was not about to pretend like I didn’t notice. He was wearing a black tux like Jocelyn, but instead of the white shirt and black tie, Alex’s tie and shirt were black, and he also had a charcoal gray vest on under his jacket. His cuffs were French, his shoes shone as though they were new, and across his chest lay the same green sash Jocelyn was wearing.
Not going to lie, there was definitely a flush rising up my neck….
Though red as I was, oddly enough, Alex’s didn’t blush at all. I’d have thought with me ogling him the way I was, that his ears would be ablaze, but then again, he seemed far too preoccupied to notice the way I was looking at him. Preoccupied… looking at me. His eyes clung to me like condensation on a glass, with an expression that seemed to hover between anger and fear – though deep down I knew it was neither. Still, I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious.
Why didn’t he say anything? Was he upset? Did he not like the dress? Was something wrong?
I took a breath to speak, but before I could find my voice he was coming straight toward me. He didn’t look around, didn’t check the hall, or so much as shift his eyes away from mine as he crossed the small alcove in three strides, took my face in his hands, and kissed me.
And dear God… what a kiss…
His mouth moved against mine with more passion than I’d ever felt from him before. His right hand slid up into my hair and gently but firmly held my mouth to his, while his left dropped to my waist and pulled me tightly against him. His fervour poured over me like boiling water over ice, melting me down to my core. I had no idea what had come over him, but whatever it was, it was hot, it was intense, and if he wasn’t careful, it was going to bring me to my knees.
But what hit me the hardest wasn’t his sudden hunger or intensity, but the hint of something deeper, driving like an undercurrent beneath his passion. It was something I’d never seen from him before, but unmistakable all the same.
Possession.
Alex had never been a dominant or outspoken person in general, but conscious or not, something in him was definitely sending a message: “She is mine.” It may have only been implied, but it was definitely there, and the very idea sent a tingling shiver across my skin as I gripped the lapels of his jacket with a throaty sigh. The message was raw, it was primal, and above all else, it was true: I was his. And he was mine. The fact that we had to hide it around these people didn’t make it any less valid. We belonged to one another.
Forever.
A few short seconds later he pulled back with a husky breath, resting his forehead against mine for a moment before releasing me and stepping back slowly, his eyes glowing. He hadn’t said a word – he hadn’t needed to. I smiled, hoping he saw the “I love you” in my eyes. His answering smile told me he did.
Goodreads ** Amazon ** Barnes&Noble ** Chapters
About the author:
Julianna was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and spent the majority of her educational career convinced she would be a musician. However, after receiving her music degree from Edinboro University of Pennsylvania, she realized that she'd been born in the wrong era for her dreams of singing jazz to adoring fans clad in zoot-suits and flapper dresses to come true, and began to wonder if her true calling might be elsewhere.
While Julianna had always excelled in writing throughout school, she'd never considered it a career possibility until about three years ago, when she'd gotten her first story idea and decided to go for it. She grabbed her laptop, started typing away, and has never looked back.
Pre-Order Gift:
As a special gift to anyone who pre-orders The Seers, we are giving away a free e-book with several scenes from The Holders written from different character's points of view! All you have to do to get yours is pre-order The Seers, then email your receipt or other proof of purchase to Julianna Scott at juliannascottbooks@hotmail.com, and she will send you the e-novella in the format of your choosing. That's it! And if you have already pre-ordered The Seers, not to worry! Send your receipt along, and you'll get your copy too!
1 – Necklace (as pictured) plus ebook copies of The Holders and The Seers
a Rafflecopter giveaway
9 comments:
I'd like to read it! Sounds really interesting..
Love the excerpt especially the lat bit between Alex and Becca there was certainly chemistry there
Omg! I love the cover, the story, and...the perfect necklace. Omg, thank you for the giveaway :x
I have book #1 on the shelf, I want book #2 too ;p
Thanks for the book description. This sounds like a series that I would definitely read.
Sounds like a really enjoyable series. I would really like to read it :-D.
i love love love the necklace! fingers crossed. thanks for the giveaway. series sounds good. added to my tbr.
So excited to hear book 2 will be out soon! I've been coveting The Holders for what feels like forever, and I finally got it just before Christmas when the publisher was having a big ebook sale. Yay! I can't wait to read it. Now I just have to decide if I can hold off to read it when book 2 comes out so I can read them back-to-back.... ;) Thanks so much for being part of the tour and thanks to Julianna for giving away that *stunning* necklace (which is totally my stylr, by the way)!!!
You really could feel like you were there listening to the music too.Sounds great to read .
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