By: Jamie Shaw
Releasing July 21, 2015
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.
Link to Follow Tour: http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/06/chaos-mayhem-3-by-jamie-shaw.html
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23149165-chaos?ac=1
Goodreads Series Link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/136893-mayhem
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.
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On our walk through a short hallway, the blonde apologizes for the rude welcome and tells me her name is Rowan, and then we turn into the cavernous space that is Mayhem. A massive bar lines one wall, a stage lines the other, and in the middle of the room sits a row of card tables and six foldout chairs—like some kind of makeshift setup for the judges of American Idol.
I cross the club to lean my guitar against the stage and, in an attempt to convince myself Shawn isn’t about to magically appear at any freaking moment, I say, “So it’s just going to be us?”
“No—” Dee starts, but she’s barely gotten the word out before a back door opens and bright afternoon sunlight spills onto the floor, paving the way for all four remaining members of The Last Ones to Know.
Joel Gibbon enters first, his blond hair giving him away. In high school, it was a gelled mess that stood up all over the place; now it’s a disciplined mohawk that cuts a line down the center of his head. He’s followed by Mike Madden, who looks the same and yet somehow more manly, like he grew into himself. Adam Everest walks in next, looking even hotter than he did six years ago. His hair is still long and untamed, his jeans still look like they got into a fight with a paper shredder and lost, and his wrists are still adorned with stacks of mismatched bracelets. The blonde girl walks to meet him, and I feel sorry for the way she’s going to feel when Adam decides to stop calling.
And then, I get my first glimpse of Shawn Scarlett just before the door closes behind him. My eyes fight to adjust back to the dim lighting, and when it does, he’s all I can see. He has that same dark hair, that same scruffy jaw, that same look about him that makes it hard for me to breathe.
“Guys, this is Kit,” Dee says while Shawn continues stealing the breath from my lungs. “She’s up next.”
They all look me over as they gather close, with only Adam and Joel managing to contain their ogling. When I see the way Shawn is raking his eyes over me, a satisfied smile sneaks onto my face. After six years of not being able to forget him, this single moment is making it all worthwhile. Whether he remembers me or not, he’s staring at me like I’m the hottest chick he’s ever seen.
These pants were so worth it.
“We thought you were a dude,” Joel says, wrapping his arm around Dee’s shoulder and giving me an excuse to play it cool.
“Yeah,” I say, withdrawing my gaze from Shawn even though I can feel his green eyes still tracing over the curves of my exposed skin. “I gathered that when your girlfriend tried to close the door in my face.”
“Have we met before?” Shawn asks, and a laugh almost bubbles out of me. Have we met? Yeah, I guess you could call it that.
He’s staring at me with a slight squint to his enchanted forest eyes, but I refuse to let them charm me. Instead, I meet them with a smirk and say, “We went to the same school.”
“What year were you?”
“Three under you.”
“Didn’t you used to come to our shows?” Mike asks, but I stare at Shawn for a moment longer, waiting to see if my smile, my eyes, or my voice jog his memory. The rejected teenage girl in me wants to claw his face off for forgetting me, but rationally, I know he’s given me the upper hand in a game I wasn’t aware I’d be playing. One I’m making up the rules for as I go along.
When Shawn stares and stares and still can’t place me, I turn to Mike and answer, “Sometimes.”