Crisis’ story is FINALLY here!
NOW AVAILABLE
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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 #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.
Excerpt #2
I walked down the hall, pulled the elastic band on my boxers
and glanced at my hard throbbing cock. “You’ll have to wait a little longer,
buddy.”
“Are you really talking to your cock?”
I let go of the elastic and it snapped hard on my abdomen.
Haven wasn’t making coffee; she was coming up the stairs with an armful of
clothes. Fuck, she looked hot, long blonde hair messy as if she’d tossed and
turned in her sleep, and she had sleepy eyes—adorable.
“Yeah. He’s angry this morning.” I stood right in the middle
of the top of the stairs so if she wanted to get by, she’d need to brush up
against me. It was childish, but fuck, I was a guy.
Her brows lifted. “Why is he angry?”
I smirked, loving that she was down for a little play.
“Placed an ‘out of order’ sign on him.” Her brows drew together and her eyes
flicked to my tented boxers.
“Doesn’t look out of order.”
I laughed and couldn’t help myself as I stroked the back of
my hand down her cheek. It took her by surprise and she swayed backwards. I
grabbed her arm before she toppled down the stairs and pulled her up onto the
landing next to me.
A white piece of clothing slipped from the pile she was
holding and fell at her feet. I smirked when I realized what it was, and took
great pleasure in helping her out since there was no way she could bend over
and get it without everything falling from her grasp.
I let her go and crouched, picking up the white lace
panties. I held them out and her nose twitched like a rabbit sensing danger. “I
like white. Prefer pink though, for future notice. And lace I love.”
She was trapped because if she snatched them from my hand,
she’d drop the clothes and if she didn’t then . . . I curled them up in my
palm.
“They aren’t mine,” she blurted.
God, she was cute. “Darlin’ I know they are and I love that
you’re denying it. Means you care.”
Now that raised a little heat in her cheeks and I liked it.
Shit, I liked it a lot because when I left a few months back, that would’ve
never happened and now that was twice. She was affected by me—good to know. “I
don’t care.”
I shrugged then turned to head back to my room to hide my
newly acquired treasure. I had no doubt she’d search for them the second I left
the house. I looked back over my shoulder and caught her eyes staring at my
butt; could’ve been my back, but unlikely. Really, it didn’t matter which. I
was just impressed she was eyeing me up.
“You can look, but don’t touch,” I said.
Her mouth dropped open then snapped shut. I disappeared
around the corner, then heard her stomping down the hall. Haven wasn’t a
stomper. She was graceful, elegant and controlled. Too controlled. And that
part of her was coming down.
Haven’t read this series yet?
Grab Books 0.5 - Two in the
Tear Asunder Box Set
Amazon US:
http://amzn.to/1GjFMt1
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iBooks: http://apple.co/1KLtuuh
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.
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