Crisis’ story is FINALLY here!
NOW AVAILABLE:
Blurb
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:
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
