Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Chaos Mayhem #3 Release day and tour

**Release Day and Virtual Tour**
Chaos
Mayhem #3
By: Jamie Shaw
Releasing July 21, 2015
Avon Impulse
Blurb
From the moment she saw Shawn Scarlett perform at a school talent show, Kit Larson has loved two things: the guitar, and the gorgeous, green-eyed boy who inspired her to play. But one careless night in high school shatters her hope of ever being more than a notch on his bedpost.
Six years, two bands, and one mostly-mended heart later, Kit’s about to make her rock star dreams a reality as the new guitarist for Shawn’s band, The Last Ones to Know. He may not remember their reckless night together, but Kit has never forgotten… and she’s determined to make him eat his heart out.
The release of their new album means a month cooped up on a tour bus, sleeping inches away from the ridiculously sexy musician she’s never quite gotten over. And as Kit gets to know the real Shawn—not Shawn Scarlett, the rock god, the player—their attraction becomes too hot to resist. But the past is paved with secrets, and when they finally surface, Kit could lose everything: the band, the music, her dreams… and Shawn.
Buy Links: Amazon | B & N | iTunes | Kobo | Audible
Author Info
Born and raised in South Central Pennsylvania, Jamie Shaw earned her M.S. in Professional Writing before realizing that the creative side of writing was her calling. An incurable night-owl, she spends late hours crafting novels with relatable heroines and swoon-worthy leading men. She's a loyal drinker of white mochas, a fierce defender of emo music, and a passionate enthusiast of all things romance. She loves interacting with readers and always aims to add new names to their book boyfriend lists.
Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
Rafflecopter Giveaway (Digital Download Set of MAYHEM and RIOT)
Excerpt #3 (7/28 – 7/30)
It takes me an hour to drive to Mayfield. An hour of drumming my fingers against my Jeep’s steering wheel and blasting the music so loud that I can’t hear myself think. My GPS interrupts the eardrum massacre to give me directions to a club called Mayhem, and I park in the side parking lot of a massive square of a building.
With my Jeep in a spot and my ignition turned off, I drum on my steering wheel a few more times before smacking the heel of my palm against my glove compartment. It pops open, a hairbrush spills out, and I use it to tame my wind-tangled locks.
Earlier this week, the name of Shawn’s band—The Last Ones to Know—popped up on one of my favorite bands’ websites. I blinked once, twice, and then pushed my nose toward the screen to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.
They were looking for a new rhythm guitarist. After doing a little digging, I found out that their old one, Cody, got kicked out of the band. The website didn’t say why, and I didn’t care. There was an opening, and everything in me told me to send an email to the email address listed at the bottom of the online flyer.
I typed the email in a daze—as if my guitar-loving fingers wanted to be in the band even more than my spaced-out brain did. I wrote that I had been in a band in college but that we broke up to go our separate ways, I sent a YouTube link to one of our songs, I asked for an audition, and I signed my name.
Less than half an hour later, I received a reply overflowing with exclamation points and an audition time, and I wasn’t sure if I should smile or cry. It was a chance to make all my dreams come true. But in order to do that, I’d have to face the dream that had already been crushed.
These past six years, I’ve tried not to think about it. I’ve tried to erase his face from my mind. But that day, with that email in front of me, it all came back in a rush.
Green eyes. Messy black hair. An intoxicating scent that seemed to linger on my skin for days, weeks.
I give my head a little shake to clear Shawn from my mind. Then I finish brushing my hair and take one last glance in my rearview mirror. Satisfied I don’t look nearly as messy as I feel, I hop onto the asphalt and haul my guitar case from the backseat.
Now or never.
After a deep breath of city air, I begin making my way around the concrete fortress casting shadow over the parking lot. Unforgiving rays of afternoon sunshine wrap themselves around my neck and send beads of sweat trickling between my shoulder blades. My combat boots hit the sidewalk step by heavy step, and I force them to keep lifting and falling, lifting and falling. It isn’t until I’m at a massive set of double doors that I finally stop long enough to let myself think.
I raise my hand. I lower it. I raise it again. I flex my fingers.
I take a deep breath.
I knock.



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After her best friend and her husband are killed in a private airplane crash, Keri finds some of her friend’s personal effects, one of which is a diary. When Keri reads it, she discovers her friend had been secretly in love with another man, a soldier. Keri knew nothing about the relationship, even though she and her friend were as close as sisters.
Determined to find the secret lover, Keri sets off on a journey and discovers the key to her destiny.
Elyse Douglas is the pen name for the married writing team Elyse Parmentier and Douglas Pennington. Elyse grew up near the sea, roaming the beaches, reading and writing stories and poetry, receiving a Degree in English Literature. She has enjoyed careers as an English teacher, an actress and a speech-language pathologist.
She and her husband, Douglas Pennington, have completed seven novels: The Other Side of Summer, Christmas for Juliet, Wanting Rita, Christmas Ever After, The Christmas Town, The Summer Diary and The Christmas Diary.
Watch the Book Trailer here ➜ http://bit.ly/1RRQOuR
And Ryan. Who was he, and what had happened to him? Did he survive the last mission? Did he try to get in touch with Sophia after he returned to the United States? Her head dropped in despair as she realized again: she’d never known the real Sophia. Perhaps Ryan had. Perhaps Ryan had seen something tender beneath the bravura and the façade of self-confidence and control.
Keri reached down and splashed water on her forearms. Maybe her friends and family had been too close to Sophia to glimpse the nuanced, the vulnerable, the painful truth. Maybe Keri’s and Sophia’s friends had seen only a dazzling shadow of her, while Ryan had seen the true, enchanted image—the real Sophia.
Keri stared at a flock of seagulls gliding through the sunset sky. Sophia obviously had a talent for guarding and hiding her real self from the world. But if she’d been touched by love, maybe that love had opened her up to new vistas of feeling she’d never experienced before, vistas she hadn’t even known existed inside her. Real love can do that, can’t it? Keri had never personally experienced it, but she believed it could happen.
Maybe in that one, short summer, Ryan had gotten closer to Sophia than anyone else ever had. Maybe he could help Keri see the true Sophia. Maybe Ryan’s insight could help Keri slough off her disappointment and anger and hurt. Maybe he could tell Keri things about Sophia that would help her understand and forgive her friend.
Keri stopped, hovering on the edge of an absurd thought. Should she try to find Ryan? The thought gave her a sudden electric thrill. She stared down into the sand, seeing the eroded ruins of an old sandcastle that had been punished by the hostile tide.
“Ryan,” she said aloud, the sound instantly swallowed up by the beat of waves striking the beach.
Keri circled the space, gently kicking at the sand castle, mentally kicking at “what ifs.” What if he’d been killed? What if he’d moved away? What if he was married and didn’t want to remember Sophia? What if Sophia hadn’t revealed the whole truth about the relationship because there was some awful truth about him?
And how could she possibly ever locate Ryan without a last name? Sophia had never once mentioned it.
In an instant, Keri knew the decision had already been made: She had to find a way to track down and speak to this man. She whirled and marched back across the beach to where she’d left her chair and the diary. There had to be clues in the diary—had to be phrases that could help her find Ryan. At the very least, she could discover what had happened to him.

A half hour later, Keri slid behind the wheel of her blue Ford Focus and drove to the nearest Starbucks. She ordered a café latte and a scone and found a seat near the plate glass window that looked out onto Main Street. It was nearly 8:20 and, as daylight faded, the streetlight globes flickered on, spreading amber light onto the sidewalks. Keri opened her laptop, reached for her phone and called her friend Mitchell. He was smart. He’d know how to find Ryan.

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