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.

Link to Follow Tour:  http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/06/chaos-mayhem-3-by-jamie-shaw.html

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Excerpt

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.”

I’m wondering where I’ve been, I cannot believe I’ve been missing out on Jamie Shaw and her Mayhem series.  I may be coming into the series late with the third book but I’m thrilled to have a new must read series.

I loved the timeline in Chaos, without reading the first two books in the series, I didn’t have a sense of missing anything.  I am a sucker for a second chance romance so I was turning the pages to see what would happen between Kit and Shawn.

I will be reading Mayhem and Riot as soon as I can get them.  I’m looking forward to catching up on this rocking series.  

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.

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After a photograph of Luc Moretti saving a tourist hits social media, he instantly becomes New York’s most famous and beloved cop. When a major network decides to run a special on the “American Hero,” Luc’s boss gives him no choice but to cooperate in the name of good exposure for the department. Luc doesn’t mind the celebrity status-what he does mind is the gorgeous brunette journalist who’s been assigned to follow his every move. Especially since she also happens to be the same knockout that rejected him rather publicly the week before.

Ava Sims is a woman who gets what she wants. And what she wants is to be CBC’s lead anchor-but to get there, she’ll need to nail the fluff piece on the playboy cop. Luc Moretti is everything Ava knows to stay away from: a stubborn charmer with a hero-complex. But the more Ava gets to know Luc and his oddball family, the more she realizes that beneath the swagger and the blue uniform is a complex man who makes her heart beat too fast. Soon, Ava’s doing the unthinkable, and falling for the best of New York’s finest …

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Lauren Layne is the USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance.

Prior to becoming an author, Lauren worked in e-commerce and web-marketing. In 2011, she and her husband moved from Seattle to New York City, where Lauren decided to pursue a full-time writing career. It took six months to get her first book deal (despite ardent assurances to her husband that it would only take three).  Since then, Lauren’s gone on to publish ten books, including the bestselling
Stiletto series, with several more on the way in 2015.

Lauren currently lives in Chicago with her husband and spoiled Pomeranian. When not writing, you’ll find her at happy hour, running at a doggedly slow pace, or trying to straighten her naturally curly hair.

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Never Loved
Dark Obsession # 1

By: Charlotte Stein

Releasing July 21st, 2015

Loveswept

Blurb

Perfect for fans of Abbi Glines, the first novel in the Dark Obsession series tells the story of a beautiful wallflower who falls for a chiseled street fighter—and learns just how dangerous love can be.

Beatrix Becker spent most of her life under the thumb of her controlling, abusive father. And now that she’s free and attending her dream college, she has no idea how to act like the normal crowd: partying, going on dates, even having a conversation. Then she meets Serge Sorensen. Big and surly with a whole host of riotous tattoos, Serge is supposed to scare the hell out of her. But beneath his harsh exterior, Beatrix discovers a kindred spirit who knows what it’s like to be a misfit. Most exhilarating—and terrifying—is what he does for a living: illegal street fighting.

There’s nothing like the rush Serge gets from the intense athleticism and brutal glory of combat—though his chemistry with Beatrix comes close. Slowly at first, he introduces her to his world, where he lives by instinct, passion, and desire. He even helps her out with her equally traumatized brother. But when Serge gets in too deep with the wrong people, he ends up paying in blood. And suddenly, just as Beatrix has been drawn into Serge’s perfectly sculpted arms, she’s thrown once and for all into the fight of his life.

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Excerpt

“What you doing here, girl?”

I don’t want to glance in the direction of the speaker. The question is scary enough, but with that voice, too? I can hardly stand to hear and know and see what is in front of me. The guy sounds as if he has gravel caught in his throat, and each word has to rumble up through the mess.

Plus, I already sort of suspect who’s asking. There aren’t many men who would suit a voice that deep and that rough.

But the big guy does. In truth, I could have described what he sounds like before he says a word. It’s just so obvious, the way it’s obvious that a girl in patched corduroy doesn’t belong among all of these sweaty, filthy, angry men. They know it, I know it, and now the big guy does, too, though I’d rather he’d stayed out of it.

I could have just talked to hammer tattoo. I can’t talk to someone like the big guy. He’s far too much, and not just in terms of his size. When I finally dare to glance in his direction—one hand shielding my eyes against the glare—I come pretty close to swallowing my own tongue.

He has a neck tattoo. And not just any neck tattoo, either. This one goes all the way around, as though he hadn’t been satisfied with something small. He hadn’t been satisfied with a few minutes of absolute agony. No, he needed a rope around his throat two inches thick, so rough and coarse I’m tempted to offer him lotion.

If I peel the image away, there will be welts underneath, I’m sure of it. And even if there aren’t, even if that’s insane, the fact still remains:

It looks as if he’s tried to hang himself.

I suspect, in fact, that this was the aim.

Though really, the tattoo is the smallest part of the problem. He’s also wearing this weird overall thing of the kind you usually see on men who work in sewers—though I don’t think the outfit has anything to do with his profession. I’m fairly sure you’re not allowed to tromp around underground with both sleeves hacked off your uniform and all the buttons undone right down to the waist, and if you are, someone should make it illegal right now.

It has to be some kind of health hazard. It’s certainly having a hazardous effect on me, despite the intense effort I’m putting into not staring. I focus on some point just to the left of his head, but that hint of enormous chest keeps calling and calling me back. How could it be otherwise when the better part of my life was spent in knee-high socks with a copy of Men’s Health under my mattress? I thought it was the filthiest thing in the world until I got to this school and saw cocks careening all over everybody’s computers.

It’s a miracle that I manage to control myself at all.

And no surprise when I don’t. I just about get the urge to ogle his chest under control, and then I accidentally glance a little to the right and oh, I shouldn’t have done that.

His general face area is even crazier than the rest of him. He has this strip of hair right down the middle of his shaved head, black and slick and flat, and just in case that’s not wild enough, there are these lines carved through the stubble, like racing stripes, just above his ears. He has actual racing stripes, so strange and bold it’s impossible to look at anything else.

Though God knows I try. I really do. He’s looking at me now in this steely, half-amused sort of way, as if he just knows I can’t resist. In a second he’ll probably crack a joke at my expense, so acting indifferent is very important. Answering him is very important.

And yet I can’t seem to say a word. If I do, I will say all the wrong ones. He will hear my dad in them, blaming him for all the world’s ills and accusing him of turning his daughter into a whore. Or maybe my accent will leak out due to nerves and get me the uncomfortable attention it always does.

Hey, Mary Poppins, he’ll tease, while I try not to die a thousand deaths.

I was intrigued after reading the book description, sheltered college girl and street fighter bad boy.  I thought Never Loved had a slow start with the pace picking up and keeping the pages turning.  I enjoyed the attraction between Beatrix and Serge.  Stein has a way with steamy hot scenes.

Author Info

Charlotte Stein has written over thirty short stories, novellas and novels, including entries in The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance and Best New Erotica 10. Her latest work, Run To You, was recently a DABWAHA finalist. When not writing deeply emotional and intensely sexy books, she can be found eating jelly turtles, watching terrible sitcoms and occasionally lusting after hunks. For more on Charlotte, visit: www.charlottestein.net

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Take the Fall
Take the Fall # 1

By: Marquita Valentine

Releasing July 21, 2015

Loveswept

Blurb

Fans of Abbi Glines and Katy Evans will adore Take the Fall, the first spinoff novel from Marquita Valentine’s New York Times bestselling Boys of the South series. In this emotional new romance, passions run hot as a rugged, brooding Marine rekindles an old flame.

As a teenager, Seth O’Connor went to jail for a crime he had nothing to do with. He took the fall to protect the girl he loved, but the cruel realities of prison hardened him. After doing his time, Seth shuts her out and enlists in the Marines—until his grandmother’s funeral forces him to come home and face Rowan Simmons once again. The woman she’s become puts all his high-school memories to shame, and Seth wants her more than ever. Can he be honest about why he denied her for so long?

After Seth pushed her away, Rowan swore that no man would ever hurt her again. But the boy who broke her heart has become a sexy Marine, capable of fulfilling her every desire—and now that he’s back in town, old feelings are simmering to a boil. Rowan wants to stay strong, even as her body surrenders to his expert touch. She only hopes that by taking him back, she can finally help heal the wounds that drove them apart

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Excerpt

“You want me to drive?” I ask, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. I don’t want to look like a complete tool in front of my girl’s older brother, but the last word cracks in my throat.

Shit.

Embarrassed as hell, I cough, like something got caught and was responsible for my soprano warbling, and run a hand through my hair before I start over. “I mean, I guess I can.” I shrug. “Whatever, bro.”

Jase Simmons, two years older at nineteen, slices his gaze to me. I’ve idolized him ever since I spied on him in his garage with his hand up Melissa Layton’s skirt. He’d been fourteen, a juvie regular, and a freshman in high school. Melissa had been eighteen, a homecoming queen, and a senior, but from the way she clutched his shoulders and moaned his name—their differences didn’t seem to matter very much. If at all.

Luckily, he didn’t think I was a perv when he caught me snooping. Instead, he took my scrawny ass under his wing, kept me from being beat up by the other kids in the neighborhood, and taught me how to trick out a car.

He tosses me the keys, and I catch them. “Cut the shit, O’Connor, and get in.”

Grinning, I slide into the tricked-out sports car. The driver’s seat is all black leather, soft and supple. I run my hands over the steering wheel, gripping it once before letting it go.

Despite this being my first time up, I know there’s no way I won’t win. Tony Johnson’s car has nothing on Jase’s Mustang, and Jase has been coaching me in my ’98 Nissan. Come tomorrow, I for damn sure will be driving Rowan to school in Tony’s Camaro.

“You done feeling her up?” Jase asks, listening to the police scanner a friend of his holds. Yeah, street racing isn’t exactly legal. Okay, forget exactly. It’s strictly illegal, and our asses could go to jail if we get caught.

But the thrill of it—the way my heart is pumping right now—there’s no way in hell I’m giving up my turn to race.

“Just getting to know her.”

“She doesn’t want you to know her. She wants to be driven.” He shuts the passenger side door. “So drive it like you borrowed it from a guy who will kick your ass from here to the Outer Banks if you wreck it.”

Blood drains from my face. “Don’t you mean stole it?”

“Hell, no.” Jase gives me a pointed look. “They’re waiting and betting on you to win.”

I glance out the window, watching as a group of people jostle for a front-row view as money exchanges hands. My stomach churns. I can’t let anyone down, especially not a crowd of people who don’t want to part with their money.

Sweat breaks out on my upper lip, and I swipe at it with my tongue.

A flash of sunshine catches my eye. My girlfriend, Rowan, stands directly in the middle. Her smile is so big that my heartbeat gets all crazy. I think I’ve loved Rowan for as long as I have known her. Considering that she punched me in the stomach in kindergarten for not letting her on the swing set first, that’s a long damn time.

“Staring at my sister won’t help,” Jase growls.

Oh, shit. He’s going to kill me. “I wasn’t staring.”

Jase laughs. “Rowan told me the two of you are officially dating.”

Instead of replying to that right away, I start up the engine. It roars to life before settling in to an idling purr. Best sound on earth. An image of a nude Rowan flashes in my head. She moans my name. Okay, so second-best.

Crap. I can’t think of Jase’s sister nude or moaning while I’m sitting right beside the dude. Sweat gathers at the small of my back and I take a deep, sustaining breath.

“Rowan really said that?” I ask all nonchalantly.

“Yeah.” He rolls down the window and lights a cigarette. The end of it glows bright orange. “She’s got bigger balls than you.”

Pretty sure those balls are mine. That girl owns me. All of me. “I was going to tell you.” Putting the car into gear, I inch it forward to line up with the Camaro beside us.

Jase grunts. “After the wedding?”

I haven’t asked Rowan to marry me, but I can see it happening. After she’s done with college, and I’ve worked long enough at my grandmother’s auto shop to become a manager.

“I love your sister, Jase. She’s not just a—”

“You can stop at I love your sister,” he says, cutting me off. “I don’t need to know any more than that. And since I haven’t heard you running your mouth about whatever extracurricular activities the two of you have been up to, I’m content to let you live.”

The phrase for now is implied. “I totally respect her.”

He slices his gaze to look at me, a smirk on his face. “Does that mean she’ll be a virgin on her wedding night?”

I almost choke. “Uh . . . ah . . .” Rowan and I have been having sex for five months now. I’m her first and she’s my second. Actually, she’s my last.

Jase punches me in the side. “I’m fucking with you, but if you get her pregnant—then it’s a shotgun wedding. If you hurt her, then a bullet to the balls. You got me?”

I got him. In fact, I’m completely terrified of him. Most people I know are terrified of him. Except my grandmother . . . she loves Jase. So much so that he’s the head mechanic at her shop. He is an amazing mechanic. I’m pretty sure he can take an engine apart and put it back together in his sleep.

Marquita Valentine’s Take the Fall will have you feeling a range of emotions.  Valentine immediately pulled me into Seth and Rowan’s story.  I couldn’t help but feel the heartbreak when Rowan is left behind and then the hope of second chance love when Seth returns.

I’m looking forward to the next book, can’t wait for the spotlight to shine on some great secondary characters.  Marquita Valentine has a new fan on the lookout to catch up on her backlist.

Author Info

Marquita Valentine is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Holland Springs and Boys of the South series, having sold more than a quarter of a million books around the world. She’s been called “one of the best new voices in romance” (Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews) and her books have been praised as “sexy, fun, and slightly addicting” (The Book Queen). When she’s not writing sexy heroes who adore their sassy heroines, she enjoys shopping, reading, and spending time with her family and friends. Married to her high-school sweetheart, Marquita Valentine lives in a seriously small town in the south with her husband, two kids, and a dog.
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CLAIMED by Stacey Kennedy

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YOUR TO KEEP by Serena Bell

SWEET THE SIN by Claire Kent

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One date with the sexier-than-sin Detective Drake Nash. Simple.

Until you take into account that my brother finally proposed to his girlfriend, so Nonna is on a warpath—and the crazy old bat has Cupid by the balls.

The upcoming mayoral elections has everyone running on full speed, and while I couldn’t give any less craps about the corrupt Holly Woods mayor’s office, a dead body in the middle of a campaign speech has me thrown right into the middle of it. The victim is close to the mayor, but all he cares about is minimizing the damage to his campaign, so he hires me to work alongside Drake to close the case as quickly as possible.

Bad news for our tentative relationship.

We disagree far more than we agree, but being at loggerheads won’t get this murder solved… Or deal with the arrival of someone from his past.

The mysteries behind the murder aren’t the only things unraveling, and despite being knee-deep in lies and corruption and bonds so tangled they’re almost indecipherable, I have to figure out if I’m willing to fight for Drake the way I do justice…

Or if he’ll be my one who gets away.

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EXCERPT

“Take a seat, Detective, and tell me all about your official business with your warrant.”

“I prefer to have my discussions standing.” He grasps my arm—not tightly, but strongly enough that I’d have to insert my Louboutin into his ballsac to get him to release me.

“From experience, you prefer most things upright.”

Slowly, his lips curve to one side, his smirk both sexy and infuriating. His eyes flash with the memory. “Especially where you’re concerned, Ms. Bond.”

I drop my eyes to his belt, allowing them to linger on the buckle before falling another inch or two to his crotch. “Don’t tell me you dropped in for a midday booty call.”

“Are you offerin’? Since you’re holdin’ out on me, I think you owe me.”

“Excuse me?” My eyes snap up to his, and the smugness reflecting in his gaze tells me that I fell for his trick.

Son of a bitch.

“Our date? It’s been two weeks since you agreed to go out with me, and call me obsessive, but I’m counting nine missed calls, ten missed texts, and five missed visits to your office.”

“You counted? Hell yeah, that’s obsessive.”

“Maybe I just really want to date you.”

“Or you want to return the favor of a bullet through the foot.”

His arm rests on the weapon at his hip. “That can be arranged right now, if you’d like to call it even.”

My fingers curl around the handle of the one at his other hip. “And I’ll up the score just as quickly.”

Drake laughs, his anger seemingly gone, and leans in. “Go ahead. It’ll give me the reason to get you in cuffs I’ve been waiting for.”

I’m ninety-nine percent sure my blood pressure has gone batshit crazy at his words. Hell, my pulse is much stronger than it was thirty seconds ago.

“Five minutes ago, you were yelling about a warrant,” I breathe, swallowing the burst of desire bolting through me. “Your official business seems far more personal, though, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Not at all,” he replies. He takes my hand from his weapon, but instead of releasing it, he keeps his grip. “I’m surprised you didn’t reach for your own gun.”

“And tell you where it is? I’m no amateur, Drake.”

“And still, I underestimate you.”

“Rightly so.” I remove my hand from his and reach up my skirt. Then I pull my favorite Tiffany-blue Glock from my thigh holster. The muzzle presses against his upper thigh, but to his credit, he doesn’t even flinch at the contact.

“I underestimate you,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing my waist. “But I don’t take you for stupid. You won’t pull that trigger. Not there. It’s too close to the part of me you like.”

“You assume far too much, Detective.” I drop the gun anyway and dart around him, strolling to my desk and setting it down softly on top of my latest case folder.

Drake comes up behind me, reaches around me, and rests his hands next to mine on the desk. I briefly close my eyes as his hard body melds against mine, because the man has one fine fucking body. I can feel it now—all muscle and tone and pure, hard strength. His biceps brush mine, except his are way more…bicep…than mine. Like, seriously, how does he fit those into that hot-as-hell white shirt?

This is what happens when he touches me. I go all giggly schoolgirl. Sweet Jesus though. It’s hard not to.

I know what that body looks like and feels like and acts like, and those memories can’t be erased. I can’t erase the memory of his body, slick with sweat, tensed with determined pleasure, moving against mine as I took everything he had to give me.

I take a deep breath, but despite my efforts to inhale slowly, it fills my lungs in a rush that jolts me. Drake feels it, because he drops his face to the curve of my neck exposed by my sleek topknot. Every part of me wishes I could unravel the hairbands and pins, but still, his lips against my collarbone… Oh, hell. They feel so good. So sweet and hot.

“This is highly unprofessional,” I manage, unwillingly tilting my head to the side and exposing my neck to him. “For your official business, I mean.”

He trails his lips up to my ear, where they brush the lobe, curving into a smile. “You are my official business, Ms. Bond.”

 

Tangled Bond is the second in Emma Hart’s series, Holly Woods Files.  Noelle and Drake have a chemistry that has the reader wanting to know what will happen next between them.  With Tangled Bond, their relationship becomes a focal point in the story more so than the mystery.  Hart provides enough twists to keep you guessing.  I’m looking forward to seeing what book three will bring.

Photograph cheating spouses. Hand over the evidence. Cash my check.

(Twisted Bond is book one of the Holly Woods Files series and while it does not end in a cliffhanger, it is not a standalone.)

By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies – usually wine – and writes books.

Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.

She likes to be busy – unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.