Heart Shaped Rock
by Laura Roppe
Release Date: May 2014
Summary from Goodreads
“If you liked the music collaboration of Maybe Someday, you’ve got to check out Heart Shaped Rock.” — New York Times best-selling author of Maybe Someday, Colleen Hoover
"Laura Roppé has written a moving and emotional novel of first love, accurately capturing the voice and mind of a dramatic and emotional sixteen year old girl caught in a maelstrom of grief and loss, love and heartbreak. And then there’s Dean…you'll just have to read the book, ‘cause I can't do him justice in a few short sentences.” –Jasinda Wilder, New York Times and USA Today best-selling author of Falling into You
Sometimes a shattered heart needs to sing to love again . . . Sixteen year old singer-songwriter Shaynee Sullivan hasn't so much as touched her guitar since her mom died six months ago. In fact, Shaynee hasn't felt like doing much of anything lately, except maybe playing Whack-a-Mole on her "emotionally intelligent" brother's head. But when she meets a gorgeous and surprising rocker named Dean, her shattered heart begins to mend . . . and then burst at the seams. Heart-wrenching, heart-warming, and sometimes even heart-racing, Heart Shaped Rock will leave you laughing through tears and rooting for love in all its forms.
Hear the original music performed in Heart Shaped Rock at www.LauraRoppe.com. All music available on iTunes.
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Excerpt from Heart Shaped Rock by Laura Roppé
Tiffany pulls the
car alongside a dude on a motorcycle. He’s wearing beat-up jeans, a black
leather jacket, combat boots, and a huge black helmet on his head. The helmet
features a tinted front visor that completely covers his entire face. The
helmet swivels, and the front visor fixates in my direction.
“Boom shakalaka,”
Tiff says.
I glance around.
It’s a party atmosphere out on the street—there are people practically dancing
up and down the sidewalk and boardwalk—and for some reason, I don’t feel the
least bit like myself right now. Why not give it a whirl?
Keeping the
motorcycle dude in my peripheral vision, I put the walkie-talkie up to my mouth
and try to look like I’m mumbling something important. I pretend to listen to
an important message on my walkie-talkie, and then I glance directly at him, as
if the message pertains to him.
His black-helmeted
head remains uncannily trained in my direction. It feels like the dude’s
staring right at me, but I can’t see under that dang visor to know for sure.
“Pull over,” I
mouth, pointing to the shoulder of the road.
Without a moment’s
hesitation, he immediately slows down and veers off to the right shoulder.
I guess that
answers that question—he most certainly was staring right at me.
Oh, crap. I’m losing my nerve.
Tiffany slows her
car and follows him to the shoulder. When his motorcycle comes to a complete
stop, he rests his feet on the asphalt for balance. His legs are strong under
those jeans. Tiffany parks right behind him.
“You go, Tiffany,”
I beg. I feel sick. Why did I agree to do this?
“Oh hell, no. It’s
your turn.”
I
don’t move.
“Go on,” Tiff
says. “Get your skinny little butt out there and impersonate an officer of the
law.”
The dude on the
motorcycle swings his head back to look at me and then raises his hands into
the air, as if to say, well?
Fine. In one deliberate and rather pissy
motion, I swing my car door open and stomp out of the car. Slamming my car door
shut, I march over to the guy, holding my walkie-talkie in my hand.
Right
on cue, Tiffany begins spewing dispatcher-sounding blah-blah-blah through my
walkie-talkie. “Car seven-oh-seven, do you copy?” Tiffany says. I turn back
around to the car, seeking permission to beg off, but she’s slumped down behind
the dash and not visible. Oh, that’s
smooth, Tiffany. Surely, this guy thinks our car drives itself like Herbie
the Lovebug.
I
reach him. I’m standing on his left, two inches from his thigh.
He swivels his
head at me. He’s Darth Vader in his big black helmet and tinted visor.
“Sir,”
I say, trying to sound official. I clear my throat. “Could you please flip the
visor up?”
Was
that a laugh from inside that helmet?
His
hand comes up to the visor, and he opens it to reveal startling, cobalt blue eyes—the
most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen, as a matter of fact. The kind of eyes that
could make a girl’s heart skip a beat, if that hypothetical girl happened to
have a beating heart in the first place.
His
eyes look at me expectantly. He shifts his weight.
I can’t figure out
what I want to say. I can’t do this. I should walk away.
He raises his
eyebrows. “What can I do for you?” His voice betrays the smirk hidden beneath
the lower half of his helmet. “Are you lost, little girl?”
I
stumble for words. “No, sir.”
He
bursts out laughing.
“What’s
so funny?” I put my hands on my hips. “What the hell are you laughing at?”
He
laughs even harder. “I’m laughing at you.”
About the Author
Her first book is the non-fiction memoir, Rocking the Pink. Her latest is a YA-teen romance novel entitled Heart Shaped Rock, featuring a soundtrack.
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