Book Promo - Excerpt & Giveaway! Up in Smoke, Crossing the Line #2 by Tessa Bailey

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Never start a fire you can't control...

Connor Bannon is supposed to be dead. Dishonorably discharged from the Navy SEALs, he's spent the last two years working as a street enforcer in Brooklyn for his cousin's crime ring. Through a twist of fate, he's now in Chicago, working undercover to bust criminals. But when a cute little arsonist joins the team-all combat boots, tiny jean shorts, and hot-pink hair-Connor's notorious iron control slips.

Erin "she's getting away" O'Dea knows two things. She hates authority. And... Nope, that's it. When she's forced to operate on the "right" side of the law, her fear of being confined and controlled blazes to the surface. The last thing she expects is a control freak like Connor to soothe her when she needs it most. Worse, something behind the sexy ex-soldier's eyes ignites a dangerous inferno of desire. One that invites Erin to play with fire. And one that could get them both killed...

Connor broke away, allowing them both to suck in oxygen. “Stay. I’m sorry. Stay.” He bent his knees to bring them eye to eye. His spoke of torture, but he was trying to hide it. “Look at me. I can handle this. I want you here. Don’t leave.”

“I don’t know if I can handle it,” she whispered.

His heavy breaths ceased. “What do you mean?”

She drew out a lighter from her back pocket and ignited the flame. It cleared her head a little, allowing her to search for the right words. Words that wouldn’t sound crazy. “I like touching you. It makes me feel really…good. And there isn’t a whole lot that makes me feel good, you know?” Her throat closed up. “I wish you could touch me, too. I don’t think I can stay here knowing I’m hurting you by making myself feel good…and I don’t think I can stop touching you. It feels like a must.”

A flare of panic flashed across his face. “I shouldn’t have said what I did earlier. You just caught me off guard.” He massaged his forehead with four fingers. “Did I scare you? Is that why you’re really leaving?”

“No.” She shook her head. “No.”

“Okay. Jesus. Okay.” He was silent a moment, but gears were turning behind his eyes. “You need to touch me and I need you to stay. Let’s give each other what we need. All right?”

Why was this so damn confusing? She’d only met this man yesterday and they were already tangled up in her web of fucked-up issues. He should want to be clear of her, shouldn’t he? No one else had ever bothered with her this long before. “Why? Why do you need me to stay? I—”

“I won’t rest,” he growled. “I’ll think about you somewhere, scared like you were last night, and I’ll go fucking crazy.”

Her heart lurched, dislodging her pride. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. If the only reason you want me here is to play nursemaid to the crazy girl, that’s not going to work for me.”

“You know there’s more to it. You know.” He visibly centered himself with a deep breath, appearing to debate with himself. “I’ve got my own skeletons, Erin. They don’t rattle so much when you’re around. Your touching me…it makes me hot. But it soothes elsewhere.”

She knew her expression was pathetically hopeful, but couldn’t find a single shit to give. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he repeated. “I’m not going to lie, Erin. Yes, I want to sleep with you like hell. But only if it’s healthy. Would you trust me enough to go slow? A little at a time?”

Her pulse hammered out of control. “You touching me?”

Connor watched her closely. “When you’re ready. Not before. Never before.”

This is where she should climb down the fire escape and vamoose toward the street. A weight pressed down on her rib cage, making it difficult to draw a breath. It felt like the point of no return. But Connor’s eyes grounded her.

Safe. He’s safe.

“Okay, baby. Slow.”

His body drained of tension. “Thank you.” He leaned in and brushed their lips together, gently, reverently. “First, we talk.”

Thank you for your interest in my books! I'm Tessa and I live in the crazy, loud, overcrowded borough of Brooklyn, New York. I love it here. This city is a constant source of inspiration, which is why I've decided to set my most recent books in the Line of Duty Series here. 

I moved to New York when I was eighteen, the day after I graduated high school. Threw my suitcase in the back of a Chevrolet Cavalier and drove across the country to find my adventure. I'm still finding it, little by little.​Thank you for being a part of it.

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Book Promo - Excerpt & Giveaway! Stumbling In, The Shore #3 by M.R. Joseph

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Everyone in Sandy Cove knows that Willow Taylor and Max Vincent are like oil and

water. They live to torment one another and if they survive being in the same room together, it’s nothing short of a miracle. Sure, Willow is rich, blonde and beautiful and Max is an achingly hot and talented up and coming rock star—but that just makes it easier for them to hate one another!

Until one night. One drunken night. It was just supposed to be a night of celebration after each of their best friends’, Harlow and Cruz, were reunited. But a few hours of civility leads to one night of unbridled, earth-shattering, cataclysmic sex. It doesn’t help that the details are sketchy in their minds because the off-the-charts after effects still linger. One thing is clear…that night changed everything. 

From that moment on, sabotaging each other’s hook-ups was their primary goal until a truce is made. A pact. No strings attached, no feelings, just more of what their bodies crave whenever they see one another. They both get what they want and no one gets hurt. 

Until someone does. Until love and tragedy gets in the way. The heat between Willow and Max is undeniable but will that spark of desire be enough to sustain them through the pain and heartache that threatens them?

I go to her and place my hand on her shoulder, and she turns around and I’m faced with the most unexpected thing that I think has ever happened. Willow turns around and grabs handfuls of my shirt and pulls me to her soft, wanting lips. She kisses me, and it’s just not a kiss that breathes lust but it breathes the fire of passion, of meaning. It makes my hair stand on end and leaves the skin beneath electrified. The soft motion of her mouth with mine, the scent of her hair and the taste of her tongue dancing inside my mouth, spins me into oblivion. There’s more to this kiss. I feel it in my bones. I feel it in my soul. She kisses me like we are music. We are the rhythm joining together with the notes and the melody. I grasp the back of her head and thread my fingers in her hair softly. I deepen the kiss and I reach the point where I swim in this moment so deep that I don’t want to come to the surface… and that’s when she pulls away and I know I’m fucked. 

I’m so fucking fucked.

She holds her lips with her long, slender fingers. Her eyes find mine and I’m still lost in whatever that was. I can’t even ask her because I can’t even speak. It wasn’t the normal wanton kiss that happens between us when we just use each other. No, oh no, this was something else. 

“Willow…” She holds up her hand to stop me.

“Let’s just leave it at that, Max.”

I walk past her slowly as I hear the relentlessness of the bus’s horn and slide open the door to her room. I turn around and she’s already back to leaning on the rail. Her body turned to the calm waters. The sun shines down on her bare, bronzed shoulders and the wind picks up and blows her hair around again. It’s the last time I’ll see her in person for a while and after that kiss, my head and something else right at this very moment doesn’t want it to be the last time. It’s not the right time to analyze what that kiss was. Maybe it was a goodbye kiss. A proper send off. The end of whatever we were to each other. Was it a blessing for me to go and see where it goes with Cora? What was that? I’ll tell you what it was. The unexpected.

“I’ll miss you, Willow.” Not being so sure she can hear me, I say it as I walk out the door. I leave her with my brain consisting of mush and my lips already feeling some sort of loss. 

Most of all… a lot to think about.

I'm a book nerd turned writer who loves the 'Happily Ever After' mixed with a bit of suspense, drama, and the occasional cliffhanger! My love of books started me on my writing journey. I began writing my first book in July 2012 and since that time I have created 2 series. The first series 'The Reunion Series' debuted in November 2012 and two books followed. My new series 'The Shore Series" debuted in March 2014 and claimed Best Selling status shortly after the release of the first book. There will be 6 Shore Series books in all. I’m also the author of the Romantic Comedy, 39 & Holding. I live in Philadelphia with my adoringly handsome husband, and pretty cute kids if I may say so myself. You can always find me with the Kindle glued to my hands or in my car with the music turned up while embarrassing my children with my mad car dancing skills.

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Book Blast & Giveaway!! Brick by Brick by Cate Ashwood and L.J. LaBarthe

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They say that time heals all wounds, but losing Parley, his one true love, left Zach with a hole in his heart that no one else can fill. After forty-eight blissful hours alone together as teens in an abandoned house, Parley disappeared. Parley is what he is, and the pray-away-the-gay camp his parents ship him to won’t change that. However, finding the balance between accepting his true nature and not losing his family means tough sacrifices.

Sixteen years later, Zach is thunderstruck when Parley stands on the front doorstep of his house—the house that had been their refuge, which Zach restored. But Parley isn’t alone, and Zach wonders if he’s found Parley only to lose him a second time. If they can overcome the terrors of the past and the situation of the present, maybe they can build a new relationship just as Zach rebuilt the house—brick by brick.

ZACH FELT as if he was floating. He’d been planning this escape for weeks, but now that it was actually happening, it didn’t seem real. He chanced a quick look at Parley as they merged onto the highway. What could possibly be better than running away with his best friend?

He’d had his doubts that Parley would actually come with him. After being turned down the first time, Zach had prepared himself for disappointment, but now they were leaving together and Zach couldn’t have been happier. 

“Where should we go?” Zach asked. He had some vague ideas in mind, but he wanted his friend’s input more than anything. 

“I don’t know. Somewhere we can’t be found?” Zach was right on board with that. 

“That’s a good idea. We’ll go for a bit on this highway, then we’ll exit and take some back roads, maybe head toward the interior.” 

Parley dropped his head back against the seat. “Perfect.” After a time, he said, “I still can’t believe we’re doing this.” 

“I still can’t believe you came with me,” Zach countered. 

“I can’t either. I must be insane.” 

“Or brilliant. It’s usually a fine line,” Zach teased. 

“My parents are going to have an absolute meltdown once they’ve found out what I’ve done. They’re going to be so upset.” 

Parley’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. Zach had seen him like this once before when he’d thought he’d lost his weird CTR ring with the spinner chain in the band. 

“It’ll all be okay.” Zach tried to soothe him, to bring him back to the present, and rested a gentle hand on Parley’s knee. “Everyone flies from the nest sooner or later. We just did it in an unconventional way. I really do think this is what’s best, though, for both of us.” 

Zach’s reassurance seemed to work. Parley blinked slowly a few times and then a somewhat disheartened smile crept onto his face. “I know, but my family is just… different.”

Cate Ashwood wrote her very first story in a hot-pink binder when she was in the second grade and found her passion for writing. Her first successful foray into romance writing came five years later when she wrote her best friend, who was experiencing a case of unrequited love, her own happily ever after.

Cate’s life has taken a number of different and adventurous roads. She now lives a stone’s throw from the ocean, just outside of Vancouver, British Columbia with her husband, her little boy, and their two cats. Her life is filled with family and friends, travel, and, of course, books.

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Fearless, Fearless #1 by Annie Jocoby

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BOOK ONE OF A PLANNED TRILOGY 

BOOK TWO, SECRETS AND LIES, IS AVAILABLE NOW! 

*Warning* Strong language and sexual situations. Ends in MAJOR cliffhanger. Not for the faint of heart. 

Beautiful heiress Dalilah Gallagher, a former child art prodigy, has lost her way. Harsh criticism in her formative years has left her floundering and without the artistic voice that once centered her life. Now, at the age of 20, she has spent the last nine years trying to reclaim what she lost. 

Her struggles lead her to the nude-modeling world in New York City, where she hopes she will find her passion for art again. What she finds is surprising: Her artistic voice isn’t gone, merely misplaced. 

Luke Roberts has a different problem. Raised by a solid, working-class fisherman in Maine, Luke is a gifted artist struggling to get a foothold in the busy New York City art scene. His gifts attract the attention of a wealthy benefactor, Blake Nottingham, who finds himself fascinated with Dalilah. Nottingham commissions Luke to provide him with a piece of art: A painting of Dalilah. 

As the two young artists fall in love, Dalilah finds her artistic voice once more, so she’ll do anything to help Luke find the prominence he deserves. This leads to a dangerous game of deceit that puts Dalilah in Nottingham’s clutches when she tries to manipulate him into helping Luke. 

Nottingham isn’t easily manipulated, though, and things go seriously awry for Dalilah. What happens when the manipulated becomes the manipulator? 

This is a New Adult Contemporary Romance. Age groups are 18+. It has some sexually explicit scenes. 

I felt excited as I realized that Dalilah was definitely feeling something for me. It was in her words and in her body language. She wanted me as much as I wanted her. That much was perfectly clear. 

But it just wasn’t as simple as all of that. I wished that it would be. But it wasn’t. I couldn’t give her what she needed. At that moment, I just wasn’t able to give any woman what she would need. I wasn’t established. Dalilah deserved somebody who could monetarily afford to treat her like the platinum that she was. Yeah, Nottingham was allegedly going to be giving me $5000, but the contract stipulated that it was to be paid after the project was over. I had just noticed that the other day when I was reading the fine print. So, in the meantime, I was broke. 

And Dalilah was like a bottle of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti Grand Cru, Cote de Nuits, which was recognized as the finest wine in the world. She was unique, rare and well out of my league. That I was increasingly feeling that I was falling for her, and I was feeling that more and more, every time I saw her, was a non-factor. I simply couldn’t have someone like her, and that was that. As frustrating as that was. 

I doodled on the napkin in front of me, and then, just like that, song lyrics started pouring out of my head. That wasn’t something that usually happened for me, because inspiration for my lyrics constantly eluded me. But being up there with Dalilah - feeling her warmth, seeing her extraordinary beauty, and sensing her even-more-extraordinary intelligence – somehow did inspire me as nothing else ever had. 

So, for the next hour, the lyrics poured out of me. What came out was a sappy love song like the kind that I used to make fun of when I heard it on the radio. With the exception of The Beatles Something of course – there was no arguing with that classic. But, usually, when I heard a love song, I rolled my eyes. Because there wasn’t such a thing as the kind of pure love that these songs conveyed.

Or so I thought. But I was increasingly seeing a glimpse, but just a glimpse, of what these songs were talking about when I looked into Dalilah’s eyes. 

I finally decided to walk to the subway station, which was a few blocks away from her apartment, around 3 AM. I did have a double-shift at the bar the next day, which was going to kill me, I knew. I was going to be dead-tired. And Dalilah would be coming to my studio at 8 AM, too. For that, I knew that I would be wide awake. 

I tried very hard to tamp down the feeling of absolute excitement that was bubbling up as I anticipated seeing her again in just a few more hours. For she was still untouchable to me in so many ways. I was amazed that I had the nerve to kiss her, but, then again, that was how I was feeling about her. I couldn’t not kiss her. I couldn’t not fantasize about making love to her. I had such an absolute passion for her that touching her and kissing her almost seemed like it was second nature to me. 

But my brain said that what had happened up there with her – the kisses – was going to be as far as it ever could go. She was my muse, of that I was sure. She inspired me to write a rather kick-ass love song, if I do say so myself, and she also inspired my art. I was finding myself increasingly incorporating her, in some way, in everything that I was composing, even if it was as an abstraction of some sort. Like I would be painting a picture of people in a café, and there she was, popping up at one of the tables. Or I was doodling a sketch of a busy city street, and Dalilah was there in the crowd. 

And, of course, there was the portrait of Dalilah that I was creating for that wealthy bastard, a portrait that I was suddenly feeling proprietary over. Which was a dangerous way for me to feel, because I didn’t own this portrait. Nottingham did. I was just the instrumentality for getting the portrait done. Just the same, the entire project was turning into one that was a passion project for me, moreso than anything else had ever been. How I wished that I could keep it for myself after it was finished!

Yes, she was my muse. And she might always be, even in the near future when I would inevitably be forced to jettison my art and make it just a hobby, while I found a “real” job that would pay the bills. She was my muse, but she could never be my lover. I hated to think that I just wasn’t worthy of her, but that was what went through my head. 

I might have been falling in love with her, but I still couldn’t imagine being with her. 

Nonetheless, I looked forward to seeing her again with breathless anticipation. 

Annie Jocoby is the author of 8 contemporary romance novels and 3 New Adult contemporary romance novels. Her motivation to begin writing these novels is that she was interested in writing about rich men who actually love and respect their women. Her heroes are alpha and damaged, yet also genuinely good guys.

Ryan, Nick, Luke and Asher are all complicated characters who have experienced plenty of darkness, yet always seek the light. They would all go to the ends of the earth to protect the women they love. And they’re all sexy, enigmatic, magnetic and great in bed. 

All of Annie’s books have things in common: they all combine a touch of mystery and intrigue with drama, love, and lots of hot sex. Some of the books have action and even some criminal elements in them. Her current book, in fact, is her first book that would be classified as straight romantic suspense, although it also combines definite elements of the thriller genre! If you’re in the market for a book that is fast-paced, where the heroes are beautiful and wealthy, and the heroines are strong, vulnerable and flawed, then try these books out!

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Ruins by T.H. Hernandez

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Heartbroken, grief-stricken, and wracked with guilt, seventeen-year-old Evan Taylor returned to the Union, leaving behind the boy she loved.

Now, she and her friends must find a way to do the impossible – warn the citizens of the Union about an impending rebel attack without alerting the government and risking retaliation against her friends in the Ruins.

When every move Evan makes is thwarted, it soon becomes clear she's being watched. Faced with a daily fight to stay one step ahead of her pursuers, she returns to the Ruins. But life in the Ruins has its own dangers, and soon she’s fighting a different battle – to stay alive long enough to discover the truth.

THE RUINS is the second book in THE UNION series, a young adult romantic adventure set in the near future.

Bryce paces the room like a caged wildcat, mumbling to himself, while I sit on my bed, pulling at the threads of the blanket, watching him. He finally stops his manic laps around the tiny room and faces me, both of his hands flying to the top of his head.

“I’m worried about your uncle.”

“I thought you weren’t.”

“Benton’s up to something, I know it.”

I’ve never seen him like this and he’s sort of freaking me out. “Okay…” I push off the bed and walk over to him. “What besides him talking to kitchen staff makes you think that?”

“Earlier this year, when I was investigating him, he was into all kinds of shit.” He takes in a deep breath, his hands falling to his sides. “Small stuff that wasn’t as important as the weapons smuggling. But what your uncle said, about people being reassigned…What if your uncle’s a target? What if Benton’s planting people inside his administration?”

“Yeah, that thought occurred to me, too. But at least now my uncle has a heads-up.”

He shakes his head. “I need to follow up on this, Evan. I’ve got to find out what Benton’s up to.”

“Okay.” I grab my jacket off the back of the chair.

“No,” he says, putting his hands on my shoulders. “Too many people in this Borough know you.”

“I’m not letting you go alone, Bryce.”

“This is what I do, I’m a detective.” He shrugs into his coat and makes his way to the door. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Okay. But be careful.” He gives me a look like I’d told him not to eat food he found on the sidewalk. “I get you know what you’re doing, but people are trying to kill us.”

He walks back to me and pulls me into his arms. “I will.” He gives me a quick kiss and heads out the door.

After locking the door behind him, I flop on the bed and turn on the display wall. I flip through programs absently, my mind too wrapped up in what Bryce is doing and concern for my uncle to focus on anything else. Before long, this tiny excuse for a room, with its dank air and lack of sunlight, becomes even more cave-like until I feel as if the walls are collapsing around me.

I write Bryce a quick note, grab my jacket, and head outside to fresh air and open space. Dark gray clouds push in from the coast, threatening rain, and I tug my zipper up to my chin to ward off the wind gusting down the alley. A hot drink sounds perfect right about now. I make my way to the nearest cafe, pushing through the door, triggering a chime.

A middle-aged barista with dark hair and a nose ring glances up and smiles. “What can I get you?” she asks.

“Caramel latte, please.”

I take off my jacket, draping it across the back of a chair, and turn when the door chimes again. A couple enters, their cheeks and noses pink from the cold. The barista delivers my drink before going to take the couple’s order. I pull out my tablet and get engrossed in a thriller, losing track of time and place.

“Is someone sitting here?”

I glance up and see a boy about my age, indicating the chair across from me. “Oh, no. You can take it.”

Although based on the overwhelming lack of people here, I’m not sure why he doesn’t take a chair from an unoccupied table. Until he drops into the chair flashing a charming smile. He’s cute and he knows it.

“Hi, I’m Simon.” He thrusts his hand at me, his blue eyes alive with humor.

“Uh…hi.” I take his hand, it’s rough, calloused. “Delilah.”

“Do people call you Lila or Dee for short?”

“Nope, just Delilah.”

“Okay, De-li-lah.” He drags out my name, making it sound like musical notes. “What’re you reading?”

“Oh, umm…a book.” I turn off my tablet and study him. Something about him seems almost familiar, although I’m sure I’ve never met him. “Where are you from, Simon?”

“Here and there. A little bit of everywhere, I guess.”

I glance at his fingernails and they’re ragged and dirty. He pulls his hands back, shoving them under the table. Chewing on my bottom lip, I try to put the pieces into place. He hides it well, but I detected a slight slow drawl when he spoke. Simon is rugged and evasive. He’s from the Ruins.

When not visiting the imaginary worlds inside my head, I live in San Diego, California, with one husband, three children, two cats, and one dog. In addition to my day job as a technical writer and editor, I write young adult fiction. I love the intensity of teen emotions and the way they're still figuring out life. 

When I'm not writing, you can find me with my nose in a book, hanging out with family and friends, hiking, or knitting. I'm obsessed with Facebook, young adult novels, bad lip reading videos, pumpkin spice lattes, microbrewed beers, and the San Diego Chargers.

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In The Spotlight! A New Dream by Alex C Clarke

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Cover by Jay Aheer

After his wife Suzanne passed away in a car accident, David slowly retreated into depression. Three years later, he decides to leave France for Boston for a complete life makeover. He hangs up his lawyer three-piece suit to become a bar manager. On the plane, he meets James, co-owner of the bar.

James is a former Marine, a very gay one – tattooed, muscled, and yummy. The problem is, David would like to explore the feelings he has for his boss, but… James doesn’t do feelings. At all. Like, never.

Well, never say never…

David was now standing bare-naked before the bed, his manhood rising slowly as he observed the man lying down. He reached out for the long and delicate, white ostrich feather as he sat down on the bed in the crook between James’ arm and his chest. He lifted the feather and passed it over James’ upper body, from his shoulder to his navel and back to his nipples, painting him with invisible decorations. James’ respiration became erratic and he arched his back, as David traced arabesques with the diaphanous item. He skimmed James’ square face, strong but elegant and…unguarded. He trailed it along a cheekbone, his jaw, down his neck and continued to a collarbone…David traced the contours of James’ body. He was trying to learn his geography, the slightest mount, the faintest vale, each canal and canyon. He wanted his fingers to remember the gorgeous body of his lover, so he could recall it in his sleep.

The Feather helped him to achieve his goal. She was giving him the ability to embed the moment in his mind. He moved down to his torso, then his stomach…Oh mon Dieu, those muscles… He was never one to notice hunks or overly muscled women on the beach or on the street. James wasn’t exceedingly muscular, but more in extreme good shape.

The Feather hesitated and finally followed the treasure trail of thin reddish-blond hair on James’ firm stomach. David could see James’ jaw twitching rhythmically, as his fists clenched and unclenched on the now crumpled sheets. The Feather had taken the power from David. From now on, she would decide by herself which path to take. She lifted the bedclothes to uncover his cut manliness. It was standing to attention proudly, in a bush of frizzy dark red-blond hair, slicked with precum and begging to be touched, to be relieved. In a graceful movement, David cast the bed linen aside and revealed the entire nudity of his lover, the cold air provoking goose bumps on James’ hot body. David got out of breath at the mere sight and he took the time to observe in silent awe.

The Feather resumed her path, testing James’ patience. She brushed the length of his cock, increasing its throbbing ever more as it tried to catch the attention of the Temptress. She went down his full balls, as tense as the rest of his body. For a moment she thought about increasing her sensual torture and carry down his legs but she decided to let the boys play. Landing elegantly next to James’ body, she watched them for a moment. She observed how David leaned over to catch James’ impatient lips. She saw how James managed, with great self-control, to keep his arms stretched out. She gazed on as David caught James’ fist in his right hand, slowly forcing him to open it, finger by finger. She noticed how his soft lips covered James’ congested face. It was hard for him, the Feather could see, to restrain himself, to give his man all this power over himself. He looked like he was about to drown in desire. When would David finally decide to cover his lover’s greedy body? As he eventually did, the Feather turned her attention to the blanket and fell gracefully off the bed. Doing so, she was granting them all the privacy they needed. The last peek she took was as David lied down on top of James and decided to use his hands and mouth to discover his lover’s body. The feral look on David’s face made the Feather shudder. She closed her consciousness to the events that followed, returning forever to her previous state of inanimate object.

I’m a translator and writer of M/M romance. I’m 32 and have a quirky sense of humor that shows in my writing. I love cats, nature, my kids (and my hubs ;) ), my fabulous friends, in RL and on Facebook, love stories, happy endings and so much more. I support LGBT rights as much as I can. My stories are made for entertainment but also to say that gay love stories are not only made of wild hot sex (well, that too but…) but also of love, tenderness, acceptance, struggles and fights. They’re not any less love stories than M/F ones.

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In the Spotlight- Excerpt & Giveaway! Shattered by You, Tear Asunder #3 by Nashoda Rose

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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.

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.

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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