Crisis’ story is FINALLY here!
NOW AVAILABLE
What started out as a deal
quickly became a friendship that conquered monsters.
I killed, but I escaped hell.
Emotionless. Disconnected. Cold. A mannequin. It’s what
I’d become in order to survive the years held in captivity. I was able to
endure the abuse and devastating loss as long as I remained detached.
But he wouldn't let me.
Crisis, the bass guitarist in my brother’s rock band, Tear
Asunder. He’s cocky, rude, a total man-whore. But the rock star has far more beneath
the surface of his inked skin, and he’s determined to make me laugh again.
He made me a "deal", but really, it was
blackmail.
His terms were simple. Until his playful honesty became
the building blocks to something unexpected. Something strong enough to pull me
from the eye of the storm.
Because even though I
escaped years of abuse, it didn’t mean I was free.
Excerpt #1
Haven
I woke up to my phone buzzing on the nightstand. I rolled
over and put the pillow over my head. My leg muscles ached from my run last
night, having pushed myself farther and longer than usual. The wind had been
strong, trying to unhinge me with each step. I refused to give in. I’d win this
fight. I’d kill the monsters. I’d watch them bleed until they no longer lived
inside me.
But they did. My last few episodes proved that.
Buzz.
I sighed and tossed the pillow aside.
“Pick up your phone,” Crisis called through the door.
Oh, my God. “What are you doing outside my door?”
“Pick up your phone and find out.” I heard a thump on my
door.
I reached over and snagged my phone.
Move it, Ice. We’re taking
out the big tractor.
I scrolled.
Don’t ignore me, baby.
Third text.
I made coffee.
Fourth.
Okay, maybe not yet, but I
will.
Fifth.
I’ll just sit outside your
door until you get your ass out here.
I glanced at the time on the screen. Nine. “It’s Sunday.
I’m going back to sleep,” I called, then tossed my phone aside and rolled over,
tucking the sheet under my chin.
The door burst open and quickly shut again. Crisis leaned
against it, his lips pushed together with that familiar crease between his
eyes. “Our brother is a fuckin’ Terminator. I swear he has radar in his head
that goes off every time I talk to you.”
My eyes narrowed in on him; he was so full of crap.
“Crisis. Get out.” My brother wasn’t—
A light knock sounded on the door. “Sis?”
Shit. I sat up, making certain to keep the sheets covering
me because I was wearing a pink silk negligee with skimpy spaghetti straps and
it barely covered my breasts. Kat had bought it for me when I first came to
live with them, along with a drawer full of panties and bras. She said, ‘every
girl deserved to have beautiful negligee next to her skin.’ At first, I balked,
internally of course, wanting nothing to do with anything sexy. But after a few
months feeling the soft silky material on my hands as I pushed them aside in my
drawer . . . I tried one of them on.
I’d never had anything but cheap clothes, and the negligee
felt nice against my skin. It made me feel . . . good about myself.
Crisis crossed his arms and I couldn’t stop from glancing
at his tatted biceps. Then my gaze trailed down his hard muscled body to strong
thighs clothed in worn jeans hanging low on his hips.
God, where was my head? It was too early in the morning
and I was wavering under the sweet clenching between my legs and the whirl in
my belly. He was a rock star, a hot rock star who was always on social media.
Triple hard limit.
“Haven? I just saw your door close.”
I cleared my throat and gestured to Crisis to get away
from the door before my brother barged in, saw him and jumped to conclusions.
He pushed away and came straight for me, his eyes sparking a mischievous glow.
My brother knocked again. “We’re going to brunch today at
Georgie and Deck’s. I’d really like you to come.”
Fine. Crisis wanted to play . . . he froze halfway toward
the bed when I raised my brows and smiled. He shook his head back and forth and
mouthed, “Don’t do it.”
“Yeah, come in,” I yelled.
Crisis dove for the bed, threw the duvet up in the air and
landed flat on his stomach, the cover settling over him just as Ream strode in.
I lay frozen beneath the covers, my heart racing, and a whoosh of blood
charging through my veins. My breath hitched as warm heated air brushed across
my bare thigh and goose bumps popped up along my skin.
Haven’t read this series
yet?
Grab Books 0.5 - Two in the
Tear Asunder Box Set
About the Author:
Nashoda Rose
Nashoda Rose is a New York Times and
USA Today bestselling author who lives in Toronto with her assortment of pets.
She writes contemporary romance with a splash of darkness, or maybe it’s a
tidal wave.
When she isn't writing, she can be
found sitting in a field reading with her dogs at her side while her horses
graze nearby. She loves interacting with her readers and chatting about her
addiction—books.
GIVEAWAY
Two
Signed Paperbacks of Shattered by You
No comments:
Post a Comment