Romance Novel Giveaways - Freebies and Giveaways of All Things Romance Romance Novel Giveaways: Seer by Hettie Ivers 💕 Book Blitz & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Paranormal Romance)

Friday, April 12, 2019

Seer by Hettie Ivers 💕 Book Blitz & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Paranormal Romance)



Ten years ago, seers across the globe were wiped out, thrusting the supernatural world into figurative darkness.

When word spreads that the first new seer in a decade has been found, powerful forces will hunt her.

The dead will unite to defend her.

And a repressed sadist werelock will abandon his century-long vow of celibacy to claim her as his own.

Note: Seer is a full-length novel, but it is NOT A STANDALONE. While Seer may be enjoyed as a first read in the series, for maximum entertainment, it is recommended that you read the books that precede it.


KAI

A few months ago, I could’ve easily dismissed Lauren’s vision in the hallway as false retrocognition. Memories of my formative years in wolf form had always been hazy at best, consisting of nothing but a blur of endless incomprehensible pain, deep-seated shame, pervasive loneliness, and sorrow.

They were my wolf’s memories—not mine.

Since finding my human form at sixteen, I’d largely blocked out all years prior—for over four centuries. But ever since first encountering the little seer nine weeks ago, strange memories—each one more disturbing than the last—had begun to surface.

Yet nothing I’d remembered on my own in recent weeks had prepared me for the graphic vision of my past that I’d just unwittingly glimpsed through Lauren’s mind.

It couldn’t be real. I never would’ve survived.

Werewolves were born in human form, and most shifted into wolves for the first time upon reaching puberty. But I was the great anomaly of my species—even within my werelock subspecies. A freak among freaks. As far as I knew, I had been born in wolf form—not human form as all others of my species were.

I had no recollection of my parents. My earliest memories were of being alone in a frozen world, craving contact and connection—and of enduring agony far worse than the isolation and rejection I’d sought to vanquish each time I’d encountered other beings and attempted to connect with them.

I remembered being ostracized as a pup. I remembered being repeatedly mauled within an inch of my life by the very packs I’d sought acceptance from. But Lauren’s vision had presented a bird’s-eye view into one of those brutal attacks that was simply unfathomable. It couldn’t possibly have happened that way. Despite the shocking clarity of her vision, it must’ve been distorted somehow—exaggerated by her emotional response to what she was witnessing.

I’m in charge.

I’m in control.

With each step I took, I fought my inner wolf. With every step that took me deeper into the woods behind Lauren’s dormitory—closer to the scent of Mike Salvatella—it became harder to subvert my inner animal and maintain that control.

His scent was all over her, the arctic beast within me raged. He touched what’s ours!

I sensed my eyes shifting, my claws extending. I was losing control already. Lately, it had been happening too quickly, and far too frequently. With each passing day, my human self remained in the driver’s seat less and less. I could no longer deny the reality I was facing: I was devolving—regressing to my original, primal self. After four centuries of suppression, my true monster nature was reemerging, and he was swiftly regaining control.

It had started nine weeks ago—the moment I’d first scented Lauren. For the past one hundred and eight years since my mate Maribel’s passing, I’d been celibate. After one whiff of the human seer, my wolf had demanded we mount her on the spot. That we devour her utterly.

I’d denied him. Since then, my thoughts had been overrun by the beast’s need to taste the seer’s blood, to tear into her throat and unleash our venom into her bloodstream as our seed flooded her womb. Day and night, he howled for her blood and sex, clawing at me to claim her. It was as if I were sixteen again, fighting the seemingly insurmountable battle to subjugate my dominant wolf nature and accept my new and awkward human form.

Mike came into view. He was waiting for me in the clearing up ahead, leaning against a tree, a lazy grin on his face.

Kill him! Eliminate the threat.

I pushed my wolf down, forcing his claws to retract as I reminded him—and myself—that no one could claim a seer. She wasn’t ours. We couldn’t protect her by attempting to lay claim to her. Staying calm and acting smart about this was the only way to safeguard Lauren.

Mike greeted me with a smug raised brow. “That was quite an intense first kiss for a guy long renowned for the nickname ‘pack priest.’ ”

I snapped in an instant, my eyes shifting, my claws coming back out. “Stay out of her head.”

“Easy.” He held his palms up. “Wasn’t in it. If you don’t know by now that I can keep tabs on people without listening to their thoughts, then your boy Kaleb wasn’t doing his job very well.”

His dig at Kaleb, my Reinoso pack’s deceased head of security detail, did nothing to cool my beast’s ire. Mike served Kaleb’s role within his own pack—the Salvatella pack. While it was a critical role within any pack, it was a tedious task that should’ve been beneath Mike, given his birthright. Many of us had assumed for years that it was a role Mike’s former Alpha and late second cousin, Gabriel Salvatella, had forced upon him. Yet now, with Gabe gone, I wondered if it wasn’t more of a choice Mike had made for himself—in an attempt to retain behind-the-scenes control over everything involving his own pack as well as their rivals. Mike had always been far more powerful and cunning than he preferred to let on.

Still, he was also young and foolish—much like his new Alpha, Raul. Because his next jab went too far.

“Maybe it was a good thing Maribel took Kaleb out before she left the ether, huh?”

Mike’s bloody, cleanly severed left arm was in my grasp before either of us had processed what my wolf had done.
  


Hettie Ivers is an accidental romance author who likes to escape the stress of her workweek with a good dirty book—preferably one that’s also funny. Her current career does not allow much time for creative smut writing, but she loves to write after hours and on weekends and strives to publish one to two books per year, as life permits.

To learn more about Hettie and the books she has written, please feel free to visit her website at www.hettieivers.com, sign up for her Newsletter, friend her on Facebook, or join her Facebook Group to keep in touch.


   


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