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
#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
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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