Your Sound is book three from the Sherbrooke Station series.
I have enjoyed each of the previous books. A review of Your Sound will be posted later this week!
A $10 Amazon Gift Card.
Oh and Katia made a playlist too!
In the mean time, below is an excerpt. Enjoy!!
You know what they say: if you don’t have a weird roommate, you are the weird roommate.
I tip the contents of my laundry basket out on my bed and reach to turn up the volume on my speakers. My ‘Putting Clothes Away’ playlist—which features a lot of Adam Levine—is currently blasting out of the surround system. Along with my vintage record player, the speaker set is probably the only thing of value in my tiny, stuffy, and currently sweltering bedroom.
“Try to tell you no, ‘cause I’m busy folding up this dress. Try to tell you stop, ‘cause my laundry is all still a mess.”
The towel starts slipping off my head as I nod along to the beat of my improvised lyrics. I straighten it back in place and glance at the rest of my outfit—a ribbed green tank top, faded pink I’m-Down-To-My-Last-Pair-And-Desperate granny panties, and a Korean cloth face mask complete with nostril holes that makes me look like Voldemort had drunk sex with a mannequin.
Yeah, no way I’m the weird roommate.
Side note: This is my favorite line from the book!!
“Sorry,” she murmurs. “Sorry for being so awkward. It’s just, I, um, I really like your music.”
“Well, thank you,” I tell Molly. “Are you talking about Sherbrooke Station, or my solo side project as Quebec’s premium francophone rapper?”
Her eyes spark. I’m definitely getting some crazy fan vibes here.
“You have a side project?” she asks, like I’ve just given her some kind of top secret government information.
“Yeah, it’s dope,” I tell her. “I wear a raccoon hat and a bandana. My first hot single is dropping soon.”
I pose like a gangster with my arms crossed and shoulders hunched, raising one hand in a fake gang sign. I lift my chin at Molly.
“Word,” I say gravely, “to your mother.”
She stares at me for a moment and then her face splits into a smile for the first time.
Molly Myers is just your average groupie next door.
The rock star whose posters cover her bedroom wall is banging her roommate right on the other side of it. Even for Molly, reigning queen of embarrassing moments, the situation is epically awkward. Every thump of the headboard is just one more reminder that the lead singers of famous bands don’t date bumbling shy girls too anxious to leave their own rooms.
JP Bouchard-Guindon wasn’t looking for Molly’s room when he accidentally burst through the door, but the wild-haired girl lying there in her underwear was certainly worth the detour.
As the keyboardist for Montreal’s latest indie rock sensation, JP has met his fair share of fangirls. He’s always ready to throw up some finger guns for a photo. What he’s not ready for is the way skittish, wide-eyed Molly Myers gets stuck inside his head.
A practical joker and a social recluse are the last people anyone expects a connection between. She’s silence aching for a voice, and he’s sound with a craving for quiet. Their differences will either pull them together, or fracture their worlds when they push them apart.